Mosi Mustapha Gomina
The Old Rover - Poem by Mosi Mustapha Gomina
He came with the mild-murmuring breeze in play.
Ambling down the sordid silence of May,
His hand swaddled a scarlet-speckled flute
That stemmed mid-day's searing gay attitude.
When his lips parted to caress the wind
That cuddled aloft his grey-bearded chin,
It quivered the flowers; calm and mellow
And echoed the whistlings of the meadow.
Our souls succumbed to the gale of his whirr.
Faint-footed and wonder-wreathed we were.
He ploughed thoughts upon which words cannot ride
And sailed atop our sore-soothed bleak tides.
Ample flock-tending shepherds rambled by;
As did brazen nightingales in the sky.
Maulding-maiming melodies that chimed forth
Remained captive to stones of frugal worth.
In symphonic notes, he told sombre tales
Of lethal despair and surreal bewails;
Of sullen kingdoms and placid-plagued kings;
And of Summer, Winter, Autumn and Spring.
E'en the wild-wandering clouds shed tender tears
When he left in benign but senile fears.
Forever and more shall we await him
To musically bring to life, our swoon dreams.
Comments about The Old Rover by Mosi Mustapha Gomina
Mary Elizabeth Frye
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