Storms - Poem by Alex Adeoye
Here stand him,
A grain that fell off
The basket of a cat walking woman
Halfway to vital field.
The basket vomited it halfway
While the field awaited its bride in vain.
The shaking and dressing of the exhausted loner
Could have caused it, dropping on the road’s shoulder
‘Olodumare’ alone knows how it escaped threshing
As the rude sun bite it like thorns
In the mercy of kicks and drags of pedestrian’s boots.
Rats could have swallowed it up,
The roaming rodents who was quick to lay hands on it
Escaped death by whisker,
It could have been ended up
In the belly of hungry rooster
Who was galloping towards it,
Per chance, also, was hastily chased away
By a mating-thirsty Cock.
The rodent lives, the grain survives,
The cock caught up with roster
And the rain was threaten with notice
The wind finally sends it to the gutter for erosion's pilgrimage,
As the birds run for cover.
Day, night, morning and evening,
Summer, winter, Rains, sun and dark
The grain had remained unplanted
While its mates had grown up in the fields of ‘lagbaja’,
Carrying to themselves one or two fruits in the farm of ‘lakasegbe’.
‘This day is the day of fate,
It came like the rustling brook
It busted into intolerable weeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
Corrugated sheets began to make noise
And the neighborhood began to dance for the august visitor
The grain in its cocoon of tattered cloak cried loud
O' fate! Why me, why me, why me? I have no rest?
Why have you made me a snake?
That has no leg but with a bruise-destined-head
Whence cometh my time?
Suddenly cold wind lingers through the windows of the earth
Causing chill across like Jos wind
There came this east wind that travels to the west selfishly
We are apt to find out on the faces of the sky
The reason for the incursion of the cloud
Intermittent incursion of thunder rustling
Bleaches the lips of the sky like serious business
Wild wind picked up unsolicited sweep across the lines
Down from the hills, sweeping up dust in the surface
No one could wait to catch a glimpse of the marathon
Rain beats harder after the cry of thunder
Who announce abrupt visit of its master, the rain.
Finally the seed find a rest with dunghill
The vatile site of town spoil of everyday ‘war ‘
And sighed, here, there is a hope.
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