My search continues…

Staid skies,

Wilting wind

Fallow land,

Elusive rain,

Tree canopy,

Shrubs to shield,

If not hide,

Roving urban eyes,

Brown, short tufts,

Struggling in heat,

Earth meets hoary  blue,

Sweating electric tall

dwarfs blanked thoughts

The stillness of nothingness

Long way,

Short stay,

The search for you

Will continue.

 

 

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Africa

In this long hall of continental silence,
Lighted by shafts of aureolic darkness,
Socratic, and so despairingly intense,
My land graffiti of a fifty one scars,
Swiped by ruthless extricators,
Left me, landless, impoverished,
Dug long interred stones and bones,
Set me to insensate, blunt sword,
Stole many splendoured nugget,
Diamond in fashion shows trotted,
Bedecked Saxonian breasts
Dowried Teutonic crests,
In arrogance, they seek,
Me and my kings so meek,
Hurried ,humble yet humiliated,
They said we had lost,
History they wrote,
Me, vanquished,
plundered, tired,
Wait for your aid,
which is but your invest.
In my wretched state,
I am patient yet.

Accra

Accra
Me and quietude, beside to share,
This west end of a long corridor,
Now a mute crest at some rest,
Eyes straining the night, to reset,
Experiencing a calm emptiness,
Reflective stimulus, this darkness,
Power cuts soothe my grilled nerves,
Thoughts are shorn of frills or swerves,
Short left my false, winding lanes,
Now traverse penurious strains,
Riotous colours of yesterday,
Uncivil, unsure, rigorous today,
Thunderstorms nudge my door,
Past them tall gates of fear,
Mud, brown, exuberant, so, ajar,
Raindrops tug, whistle, tear,
Trickle past the colonial wire
Rolled, barbed, now to retire,
Meditate, open my third eye,
Smear myself in ashes dry
To see , to feel,
Touch natural,
Your innocence,
Your timelessness.

My friend’s home

Suvarna in darkness

Me deserted by my friend.
His house once a home, now locked.
Shadows though not even a street light,
The walls may have some memories,
Of who hesitated to enter , now barricaded,
The dust on the grills have rusts, of who dared enter,
Searched responseless for a friend, and withdrew,
Told, he a migrant now.
Toiling hard, fortune seeker,
Even in the searing heat of noon,
Must be feeling cold in sweat,
Seeking out to live a life of grandeur,
But here is where we laughed rich and loud,
We now just live our lives so quiet.