I
A peasant sat and prayed
to the God of his ancestors.
The cool evening crept slowly
and the dust devil rose hastily,
Spraying mist of powdery brown
dust into his sunken eyes.
The cloud, as if It discerned
his dismal and dejected mood,
instantly formed a variation
Of comforting images
He was in a period of grief,
Visibly beset with gloom.
He ignored all of these
impromptu shows nature
improvised to curb his pains.
The tears came and came,
he shivered and sobbed until
he felt his loss had subsided.
II
With legs crossed and chin
In hands, he felt sorrow
and anger overwhelming him.
Perplexed by grief and
the thought of her.
"If only I knew how to fly.",
he thought, almost in tears.
His moistened eyes were motionless
Transfixed on the windowpane
Unaware of the gusts of wind
softly rattling the palm thatch roof
Of the disheveled gbafah he
he goes to whenever he needed
To be introverted.
He padded the soft silt with his
barefoot unaware of the colony of
fire ants as they mounted his limbs.
He was instantly jolted to reality
by the excruciating pains caused
By the fire ant's morsels deeply
embedded in his skinny patched
legs beneath his frail body frame
III
He missed the one and only love
He knew, his fondness for her could only be characterized as a malady of affection.
Ever since she left, every evening came and went without him taking his eyes off the main road leading down the overgrown trails beneath the canopy of trees. The day went by, but he failed to notice that dusk had engulfed the village and all around him were the burning flames of many diminutive fireflies.
He cared less about the pains still burning his now swollen feet. The eerie sounds of the night crickets echoed but he had one thought; to see his true love.
He couldn't get her off his mind and
It repulsed him to think of the possibility
Of her not coming back.
IV
"Where are you my queen, what has happened to your promise you made to me about coming back to me?"
Come let's roam in the undergrowth once again. The hills call your name and the birds chuckle.
I am losing my mind, I'm forfeiting my staying power. come lets play, come.
"come, my love, come walk barefooted in these ponds, come let's dance and play in the rain. come and undulate your gorgeous
hips and spin like a flamingo in flight."
In tears, I remember how you made me smile, how you turn my life around and blessed me with your heart and beautiful smile. Come to me, come to me, my love.
.
#IvanBrookspoetry ©
8-28-2019
#Bassapoet
twitter@ivanclappers
Aug 28, 2019
Aug 28, 2019 at 11:21 PM UTC
I
A peasant sat and prayed
to the God of his ancestors.
The cool evening crept slowly
and the dust devil rose hastily,
Spraying mist of powdery brown
dust into his sunken eyes.
The cloud, as if It discerned
his dismal and dejected mood,
instantly formed a variation
Of comforting images
He was in a period of grief,
Visibly beset with gloom.
He ignored all of these
impromptu shows nature
improvised to curb his pains.
The tears came and came,
he shivered and sobbed until
he felt his loss had subsided.
II
With legs crossed and chin
In hands, he felt sorrow
and anger overwhelming him.
Perplexed by grief and
the thought of her.
"If only I knew how to fly.",
he thought, almost in tears.
His moistened eyes were motionless
Transfixed on the windowpane
Unaware of the gusts of wind
softly rattling the palm thatch roof
Of the disheveled gbafah he
he goes to whenever he needed
To be introverted.
He padded the soft silt with his
barefoot unaware of the colony of
fire ants as they mounted his limbs.
He was instantly jolted to reality
by the excruciating pains caused
By the fire ant's morsels deeply
embedded in his skinny patched
legs beneath his frail body frame
III
He missed the one and only love
He knew, his fondness for her could only be characterized as a malady of affection.
Ever since she left, every evening came and went without him taking his eyes off the main road leading down the overgrown trails beneath the canopy of trees. The day went by, but he failed to notice that dusk had engulfed the village and all around him were the burning flames of many diminutive fireflies.
He cared less about the pains still burning his now swollen feet. The eerie sounds of the night crickets echoed but he had one thought; to see his true love.
He couldn't get her off his mind and
It repulsed him to think of the possibility
Of her not coming back.
IV
"Where are you my queen, what has happened to your promise you made to me about coming back to me?"
Come let's roam in the undergrowth once again. The hills call your name and the birds chuckle.
I am losing my mind, I'm forfeiting my staying power. come lets play, come.
"come, my love, come walk barefooted in these ponds, come let's dance and play in the rain. come and undulate your gorgeous
hips and spin like a flamingo in flight."
In tears, I remember how you made me smile, how you turn my life around and blessed me with your heart and beautiful smile. Come to me, come to me, my love.
.
#IvanBrookspoetry ©
8-28-2019
#Bassapoet
twitter@ivanclappers
Request permission to use this poem