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Ralph Akintan Mar 13
Now that the feast has ended
And the beats of biripo has stopped
But dance of joy ceased not
Leaping us to a greater strata of blissfulness.
Neighbours peeped through the gate of fellowship
To cheer in our success.

Basked in the euphoria of success
We counted the baggage of jubilation.
Our celebration detonating the explosive dynamite of joy like harmattan wildfire consuming the field of sorrows.

Now that the feast has ended
Let the bembe of celebration resonates.
Ralph Akintan Mar 13
Now that the war has ended
Vanquishers counted the vestige
Of casualties, eulogising the forgotten souls at the unmarked graveyard.
But we waved the olive branch to stop the callous carnage.
Victims' dirge polluted the air of regret.
Table of settlement shedding tears of rustiness.

Now that the war has ended
Widows endlessly waited for entombed spouses to fail failure of loneliness.
Glory of souls stored in the belly of graveyard, protesting early exit.
Darkness of sorrow eclipsed rays of joy.
Tears from the cheeks of the cenotaph promulgating decree of condemnation
Cemetery gathered glory, treasure, and destiny in its banks.

But now that the war has ended, let the kakaki of peace sounds.
Ralph Akintan Mar 13
Now that the daze of drought has cleared,
And the torrent has stopped,
The cloud of harvest gathered
In the **** of the sky.
Cord of famine has broken,
Trembling under the transformational winds of coolness, making our farmland to yield bumper harvest, banishing the vessels of poverty.
        

Forest adorned the toga of greenness and the beasts in their loneliness, hiding under the cooler shade of trees.
Farmers regally rejoiced in the natural endowment.

Now that the rain has stopped
Let the shekere of harvest announces its arrival.
Ralph Akintan Mar 11
We sang a dirge
But no tears to bid farewell.
We dug a grave
But no place to place a casket.
We erected a cenotaph
But no place to lay a wreath.

Sorrow clapped with one hand.
Rays of tragedy raced with one leg

To unlock the gate of tomb.
Town Crier's gong rendered
      sounds of sadness
To inform the confounded cenacle.

Will your pen still pen a farewell?
Will your ink speaks for itself?
Will the diarists still hear your voice?

You slumber till eternity.
But you will not die again.
Ralph Akintan Feb 28
Strands of eyebrow cruising
Neatly to the honeycomb's
Bridge of her nose.
Fever of restraint stampeded
Affection creating opening for
Atom of emotion and
Unrestrained flap of love.

When l saw you last,
Succulently tender *******
Arrested my eyes,
Unresistingly pointing
With magnetic elements,
Turning storms, waves and
Nerves over the base of my
      brainbox .

And when l see you now,
A glowing radiant stars
Matching towards my
Attractive zone, emerging
From the fringe of cautiously
Pointed ******* and sending
Chilled cold, awakened
Slumbering goose pimples
All over my entity.

When l see you now,
A fluid of love crippling
From axis of eyes beaming
With flashes of thunderous
Lighting heralding ******
      of emotion.

When l see you now,
My thought kidnapped
Your beauty distracting
My attention inside the
Grotto of the brethren,
Drawing body, soul and
Spirit apart and far away
From the prayers' cell
And detaining my
Emotion in the custody of
      your heart.

As l see you now,
Your beauty caged my
Attention, entombed my
Concentration deceptively,
In the sepulchre of your
      beauty.

Closing the doors of my eyes
To exhume the planted seeds
Of concentration, your
Apparition appeared again
And again from the theatre
Of beauty distracting my
Innocent attention, yet.

Akika! Your shining
Peacock-like skin ran
Tears of **** from my
Eyes, provoking my
Spirit to ignite waves
Of passion and
Seducing me with
Soporific mixtures,
Hypnotizing my being,
Away from the
Sanctuary of prayers.

When l see you now,
I heard a lullaby of
Emotion from your
Eyes,
I tasted omelette of
Love made of honey
From your pink lips.

Haba! Are you made from
      heavens?
Are you created on earth
      for the earth?

Dissecting your buttock
From the romantic attire,
I see acme of love emitting
Vapour of attraction from
A nicely curved hips,
Majestically sitting below the
Avenue of your waist,
Spitting sensation of
Lustful feelings with flashes
Of emotion, encamped my love
In the basement of your heart.

Holy Spirit! Take me away from
      the temptation of this
         daughter of Eve.
Ralph Akintan Feb 22
Whirlpool of whirling quaint
Inequality brewing in the
Winepress of smithereens
Fragile polity.
Voices of weariness cried
Out from the wasteyard of
Waste for succour,
Pointing fingers of
Recrimination towards
The abyss of drouth ,
Entangled in conflicts
Of interest.

Winds of improvised emblem
Bearing hunchback of
Woes,
Raising hands from the
Drowning deep sea
For rescue like
A dejected beautiful
Vigaro in a
Turbulent ocean of quarrel
With her spouse.

Whereas reddish fluids of life
Runs across the same veins
And arteries of haves
And haves-not but
Cottage of interests
Hoisting avalanche of
Rainbow-coloured flags
Standing aloof on the
Pole of misrule,
Demarcating their interests.

No accommodation for wants
In the corridor of affluence.
Wants on a trade mission
With wealthy but caged in
The confinement of wealth.

Winds of inequality blew
Whirler of wants into
The marrow of the
Haves-not.
Rains of inequality passing
Through a lockage of lack
Into the improvised,
Doling-out poverty to
Gain the control of
Wealth.

Alas! Blindness sees inner
Vision of darkness from
The households of political
      lamia.
Alas! Deafness hears
Discordant vague voices
Of failure from the forest
      of frustration.
Alas! Dumbness speaks
Language of gnomes out
Of the vale of forgotten
      treasures.
Alas! A four year tenancy
      turning into decades
      of challenges.

But we shall revive our hope
      and raise our voices
            tomorrow.
Ralph Akintan Feb 21
I dialled your number.
I sent some messages.
Response held-up in
Vehicular traffic of
      silence.
Transmitting voidness in the
Midst of a dead silence from
A dead telephone line.

A loud silence responded,
Diverting answers into
The vortex of emptiness.
Clock of silence lightly enstopped
Beacons of response.

When l dialled your line,
When l sent some
      messages,
Voiceless echoes permeated
Membrane of hindrance,
Waging wars of friction.

But l dialled your number.
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