It started with Ox House donkey
In the housebarn of the manor
The room was full of family

It was warm, with mum
and the aunts who know all
about childbirth, the men also

stayed up and drank to the new
king, his little bed with lambskin
in a manger was next to me

After Passover in the capital
we had to leave, the news
of our son was buzzing around

people came to warn:
Ox House Camel, the alphabet, Door
to open and to close

Hand that reaps the fruits, Eye that sees
and Mouth that speaks the truth
My heart that knows the concealed

breath of the breathing, spirit
over the waters, the words
it once started with

Forget about speaking and understanding.

If someone writes in a different language
To your own,
You wouldn't even be able to read it.

At least at first glance.
I'm sure if you stare at it
Hard and long enough,

You'd be able to make out something.

Their relationship
A poetic diction
Giving room for freedom
Taking down all languages
Like revolutionaries of old

Not a sound sense
Making language her foot stool
Creating vague words
Bringing back medieval times
Telling ancient African tales

Shooting language in the face
Beautifying colloquialism
Expressing one’s self
Giving recognition to informality
Doing away with language distinction
Forming a path of it’s own

Written by Tosan Oluwakemi Thompson

Thou hast my love and I desire thine.
Dost thou know or knowing, care?
I keep the nymph's lonely station.

But my impatience grows savage.

If thou carest not, my love
the stars will keep their motion
flowers will still need water
I will learn stillness
the feeling will rust

Watch from night the eternal sight of words and language loved,
Wonder not the bitter struggle rather parade the success hindered
Bring us to the last day of laughter's end
Belittle all but they will never bend

A score out of 10
My norm would be 1 on the language of love
Devoid of expression
Extremely misunderstood
Unable to utter love

Love is an art to many
A science to some
But an alien to me

In attempting to communicate love
Gifts and parties were thrown
How would that be matter now, because I lost you nonetheless

The musicality of the moment,
Brought by the way my tongue
Flicks against my palate with
A satisfying smack like bubblegum tricks
Is a greater bliss than the pauses
Between a Mozart piece
Where the essence of the music lies.
The peace, the stillness, the absorption
Of higher vibrational photons and forests
Of enchantment, reading manuscripts,
Prescription bottles, poetry, philosophy,
Thirsty to fill a void grey and dull,
Coloring my world with the sound of language.
Finding new ways to contort and contemplate
Writing and meaning and verse.
Channeling insights from the universe.