A Word is Born

The quil blots its ink and a word is born

Hot Ether

whose gorgeous aura burns lambent like ether set on fire

Girl in Mini-Skirt

because a nubile girl in mini-skirt just walked by;

Spirit Soaring

and the Spirit soars in seminal poetics;

Poet's Muse

as the Poet's mighty muse parts the skies;

Universe Rattled

then the Universe is rattled avant-garde;

Whispering Hands

as two anonymous hands whispered to a heart;

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MY POETRY HOME — trespassers welcome

poet's prayer The Poet's Prayer Written For ASSA Editorial Board, Kwara Poly, Ilorin.
(Thursday, December 7th, 2000)
I guess the most wasted of all days
is that on which the clergyman
makes me sick telling me about
my duties to God, making me
lay about in the dark to weep for
my sins at night.

But I hate to waste my days
and the monotony of liturgical prayers
make me wish for a nap instead.

But then, just one simple look at her,
and a simple grateful thought raised to heaven,
is the most effective prayer
I ever offer every good moment of my life:

I give thanks to the Lord
each time I meditate on what
a safe companion and easy friend she is:
quite mild of temper, gentle of manners.
In simplicity, almost a saint –
so courteous, so womanly, good goodness,
no madness, no affectations, no exhibitions.

She's neither black nor white,
but she's Afric and she's fine.
Her brown eyes speak a language at once
limpid and clear, and her sweet smile
is a darling sight to behold indeed –
it is the type that quells the
entropic chaos of a troubled mind.

My prayers are prayers of adoration,
thus whenever I adore Bukky,
I adore gracious beauty.
And having adored both Bukky and Beauty,
I raise a simple grateful thought to heaven;
and I have thereby said
the most perfect prayer also:


© 2000, M-Auwal Gene III. All Rights Reserved
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"A rose smells better than cabbage for sure, but it never makes better soup."