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Two Poems
by Hussein Waliu Olalekan
Every Winter Has a Way of Reminding Me of My Lost Flower
In my recent knowledge of eloquence, a lover can be equated to many stunning things without an apparatus of comparison. I can say my lover is the meniscus your eyes cannot taste before reincarnation into a full moon. I can say my lover is the deluge dousing a soft soul painted with fire. I can say my lover is the blissful flower blooming in God's garden because everything beautiful is for the father who unveiled you out of your mother's shell like a plan for a new housing complex. & the other is for the man who watches as you embrace your ruins like a pet in summer time. as I leaf through the pages of my past, I am reminded of the wonderful nights I had with my lover—a chrysanthemum I plucked to convey into the garden of my heart, but I couldn't nuzzle because sometimes, death will not allow us enjoy what we love most; my lover, a chrysanthemum I didn't know would wither like a plant let alone being smothered like a premature fart. the first time I envisaged my body flair out itself from gloom, it was my lover that shawled it with a maternal embrace. there, I learned in order to taste healing, one always has to live animatedly 'cause living is the origin of love & it's the mouths that live that always tell the stories of what remained of a burnt city. it's another winter & again, I miss my delighted flower the way a mother fish misses her children when a fisherman wars the water. inside, I'm burning like a rosebush. my life is on fire, but I pray I survive this winter like an albatross survives from electrocution.
Music
The euphony of a music throws up from the mouth of my grandfather's radio & my cerebrum saunters into the memory of a flower I met last summer on the road of a university campus. I mean the demoiselle I yearn to filch into the garden of my heart. like a tulip, place me beside the body of a fire till fireflies come at nighttime. you'll see me grow into a big butterfly, because I do not know how to burn like an enchiridion nor wither like a deciduous tree. last summer, I prayed to be beautiful like a nightingale so I could build songs in my larynx & see my plumages be suffused with light & light. & that is how I garnered the love of everything that shepherds me from darkness. at soirée, pass me a glass of pina colada. don't forget to bury me in the sepulchre of a blissful music. I don't know how to shake my legs to blue songs. bless this soul a grave one till it refashions into a bright & beautiful butterfly. when I was six, I learned from the feet of my father's father that our sweet songs chase our sadness to heaven & this is one of the ways I learned how to uncork myself from the shell of pangs.
Waliullah Hussein Olalekan, NGP VI is an emerging poet who writes from Lagos, Nigeria, where he studies in an Arabic/Islamic institution, Darul Falah, & also a protege learning Arts & Graphic Designs in Festac Town, Lagos. He finds joy in Literature as he sees it as a surgery to calm himself. A Best Of The Net Nominee with works published & forthcoming in: The Shallow Tales Review, Brittle Paper, Eremite Poetry, STRIPES, Lunaris Review, Eboquills, Better Than Starbucks, amongst others.
Twitter @Waliullah_06
This is fire.
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