I wished one day to see or maybe know, Out of an affluence in my hands, What mirage that lay in me, As a native son of the people of the farmlands; Whose faces shone in marks of gombo; Often cladded in abeti aja soaked in aro.
Birthed was a journey that spanned o'er the west, To a gallery whose canvases I had heard held the finest rest For him whose wishes made his nest, Ran by a lad whose ways taught the best.
Now and again, Though I declined, asked I was By the attendant with no thoughts to be the main Whose art wasn't any worse If he could relieve my pain.
The lad charged me a cow hide, Sewn as a bag, And filled with gold picked by the tides, If my desire would have his tag.
Abashed with impetus and zeal, My head nodded to make a deal. So henceforth the lad and his brushes set to drill, Though his eyes held a look that doubted my will.
In conflicting thoughts, I sat creating plots. But he didn't seem to notice, For already was my face on his canvas when he had to cease.
The eerie cold knocked and stayed for the night, And my senses numbed along with my might, Even if my will fought the urge in my right. The nature I felt had a compelling light.
Laid it was by my head, The canvas in which my mirage was held. The first feature I came to behold, Was the fright I had if my sleep had let him cart away my fortunes.
This one that stared back at me, I thought must be for someone with no eyes, For hinges of darkness and cracks of thorns it bore to see, In my mouth and my eyes.
Shocked by the steel, My rage almost went free, But an explosion couldn't be As he was quick to woo my sea.

The darkness in my mouth, he stated, Portrayed the native son of my folks and the evil they led; And the betrayal they did but claimed to detest;
The pits we push our kinships into, Telling cock stories of a mat for the elephant, So a reap would happen from where we didn't sow;
The thorns, he shovelled, Screamed the scorns I put in my bed, When I asked my brethren and 'ores' to be on red - An alert my hunger must have breathed.
In a slump I had my mouth agape, I felt a tap on my nape, So he could tell that the fright I had noticed, Was the one I always strove to keep pleased. And it was the feature that made the darkness and thorny cracks appear.
I however knew every human was involved.
- Via (BOOKS OF AFLLIATION) The Ways We Live
©Oladokun Olubukola, 2017

Quite surreal bro, you render it with perfect nativity

Epluribusunom:
Quite surreal bro, you render it with perfect nativity

Thanks, dear. I stopped sharing my poems here 'cos no one was encouraging. Thank you.

[quote author=OluwabuqqyYOLO post=59847420]
Thanks, dear. I stopped sharing my poems here 'cos no one was encouraging. Thank you.[/quote

I guess that's the case of poetry here on NL