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MY POETRY HOME — trespassers welcome
(Friday, November 17, 2001) I was entering a scandal prone
terrain of castrating women;
I was not ready to be
embarrassed on getting there;
I therefore lowered my ample profile
(to be on the safe side);
I even took refuge in childhood
fantasies along the way;
and I cursed myself for living
in these interesting times;
then finally I got to West-End at last!
She cheerfully hailed my
funny-sounding name from afar;
I sighted her peculiar pleasant
mien out of the milling throng;
I courteously beseeched her help
which I so awfully needed;
she obligingly smiled and
was ready to help;
so she walked into Room E-4
and came out with a great report.
"Ah, how do I say thank you?",
quoth I as I took my leave afterwards.
She again smiled.
And it was a smile so ordinary
that it surely couldn't cure cancer;
but so alluring enough it made me
thirst superlatively for a
drought of drink –
a draught of her breath,
the breath of her charm.
Sweet honey sweet, fair enchantment,
Her two luminous eyes were as
two alive dreams promising abundant relief
(like the sweet mercies of God);
and her face at once became full of
lullabies of visions that presented
a heroine's mystique.
I could have died and resurrected
ninety-nine times before I realized
I had fallen into a ditch by the road;
and even several months now after that
I still walk around in a daze,
wondering what had hit me;
while a portrait of hers that now
hangs in my room animates the
abstract vistas of my midnight dreams.
© 2001, M-Auwal Gene III. All Rights Reserved
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