Writings / Poetry: Yemi Soneye

Pages: 1 2 3

Who Then Ever Will Bring Morning?

At 6 am God used the belfry.
The sweep, sonorous of angels,
skinned off the blanket
and opened my eyes for view
the window drew near.

I found the street in vernal
trees, not one sunken
as on mornings from the curfew
and the tinder mist that breaks
on souls rushing to work cubicles.

Across, behind blindless windows,
stolid hearts spumed the
coursing heavens.
Yet, only a woman, hoary,
stepped with rosary
towards the cathedral
till she stopped in the infernal fear
that remained every door latched.

If they morph her hands,
the shreds and devotion of lads
scrap yards wouldn’t have
and the car, drive
to God the fallowing bombs,
who then ever will bring morning?

 

Gain

The self, all left, with closed eyes, at a piano.
Someone, dark, like the dead,
in white satin, dancing to the sonata.
These were the rocks in the river.
Top of the bridge rail, a still small voice
joined the breeze living
at the top of the rail
in its home
and they grew
the metal bars to a height
that tied his dive.
Some answers make you stay
even as each day will close
unanswered, worse, as a question,
for the dance has no one, and you
are walking the burden,
palming what has gone,
listening to all your voice has said,
lighting burnt candles to see
why you hover where you’ve left forever.
They say all find it, he will confess
when he does, he will kiss
the woman pieced by memory
and watch, if he looks, ahead,
how the cleavage of the sky
heave, flow with innocence
away from the mirror.

Pages: 1 2 3

5 Responses to “Writings / Poetry: Yemi Soneye”

Read below or add a comment...

  1. Eniola says:

    Nice works! Kudos!

  2. dominic says:

    Nice write up… Deep & profound.

  3. Betty Acquah says:

    I’m gradually, but steadily falling in love with poetry, and often I wonder how you are able to paint so well with words!

  4. Karen Shenfeld says:

    Beautiful and mysterious.

  5. Karen Shenfeld says:

    Lyrical and mysterious.

Leave A Comment...

*