Tree Of A House Poem by Felix Bongjoh

(i)

Tree of a house,
gold oranges

tumbling
from
beaming bulbs
spinning life

around me
with fruits re-sowing
their seeds
into ridges
on a farm of me,

budgerigars
and yellow warblers
dancing
round a gold finch,

all beamed
from spinning
bulbs
and flying rays.

When more
yellow passerines
spurt out,
parrot the king

talks to the queen
of my inner
bowl, its eyes
and ears loads

of wing-flapping
memories
under the tree
of life.

(ii)

O yellow parrots
rolling on wheels
of flamy
prattles on sidewalks

of this lamp-lit
streets of my room
wielding
no traffic,

but a heavy dose
of my -
trunk with too

many withered
branches
to climb out
of my nailing pain.

(iii)

When
thorn-crowned
Christ flows
out the light

paving my way
out a volcano's night
deep down

the belly of a bubbling
volcano's
heat

drilling, grilling
and roasting me
straight
over flowery fires

never switched off
even as red
coals of cardinals

fly off from
my tree of bulb-lit
branches

swinging over me
from orange-lit
candelabra
feeding me with juice
from their fruits.