Writings / Poetry: Yemi Soneye

His Warning Before We Spoke

Before I am put out,
before my shoulders take
their hands and truth is,
they say, their work is done,
I would ask, but with no lamp,
how can I follow my heart?

Into a recline pose
they break back.
Tell me lad, on each
of its sound step.

To this, I open an ear,
I fall few of nuts
of words they’d stuffed.
I show I am deaf.
Then I tell a story of shadows
and my enfolder into the silence.

Exchange

I turned deep into the street,
which was sleep,
that morning the world fell
and silhouettes
and thoughts
which leave and come
like the former cycle of day
began to walk like men.

Where the blades of maize
swayed I stood still.
It seemed to them I said
pierce me girls
have a taste before
the season takes you.

They swallowed the wind
and stilled to my neck
till a flea flew into the tangle
and twitched them to ask,
are you too happy?

I gave no answer I had
which was none.
When the wind welled
out of their body,
I asked, with the patience
of a sickle, what dances you?

Prayer

Into a bouquet of bougainvillea
I will now turn.
Westering kites, leave, a moment,
the ruddy highway through
which who has took the sun.
Come towards, yourselves as a vase.
Lift me into your carnival
and let me fly, fly with you
back into my heart.

Pages: 1 2 3