Celestine Ikwuamaesi Poet Free verse

The Old Cockerel

The trumpet fails to blast
not for lack of wind;
      but a wear.

An old cockerel crows at dawn,
not to herald the day
but to hint the world:
      I'm alive,

awake; to stir the snorer
      from waste.

It's pretty
sleeping early. Dreaming
before a slumber; a shadow
      while the sun blazes through.

Flowers wilt,
wither before their span
because the sap drains
      on the cusp of prime.

The wattled old cockerel
sparkles from peep to dusk;
his crow rattles,
      stirs the day.


© 2017 Celestine S. Ikwuamaesi

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Funom Makama March 5, 2017 at 9:21 AM You have pointed out the message so clear, poetic, original and with a fantastic imagery expression. Thank you for this lovely share friend. This is definitely a star content.