Short Cowries Poems

In the midst of the not-yet
I felt some heavenly cold
my head became a burden to my physique
saw her pass me by
not in her world
she must had gone with the cowries
counted my legs after her
perhaps a revelation awaits me
but I saw her no more....

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Secrets hidden in the sands
known only to the tiny crab
or starfish wandering idly by
as waves collect the ancient treasures
send past truths drawing ever, nigh.

Sand Dollars glisten in amber glow,
as murex and cowries roll amid waves;
of the all the things the beach collects,
amid all shells, the conchs resonate
their waving echoes, seas story treasures.
...

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I met a collage
hair, a messed-up colored sisal 
lips, pasted with red droppings
eyes, grafted lemurs’ spectacles
neck, ring-fenced with cowries
fingers, sharp porcupine quills
legs, wrapped with bull’s colon
feet, balancing on goat hooves
ears, crying “have mercy, you wheels”
clothes,  mosaic of bush flowers
confused I was when met her
but I was told the collage I met
was not art piece of an artist
but a  modern African girl...

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Not begging, 
for a native dream; 
hiding an ocean in the eyes.

The hills were trembling. 
I am going to cross the river, 
of flames.

I am sitting on the dirt floor, 
counting the cowries.

This was my home, 
that was my book.

Playing the game of death.

What had you written, O god 
with your quivering hand. 
I am still following a riderless horse.

Not the least. Any want ...
Give back my blank page.



Satish Verma...

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summer dawn –
the path of cowries
beyond the sea 


summer dream
counting the butterflies
in neighbor’s garden


piercing the 			
breeze, my chute lifts –
summer beach	


summer twilight . . .
the bee eater stirring
tall grass

summer sunset – 
changing colour of
rising waves


summer's end . . .
the waterfall thunders into
my laughter


last day of summer
bouncing, the pool ball
of her eyes


summer ends
the wallah takes down
the raincoat array...

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The corn has ripened.
With it is the wizened laughter of a
Mirthless age, showing ashy teeth
Of dappled cowries.
A flavescence so bantered by the courage
Of wilting bloom!

Sadly, sea waves truss the feet of
Burning skies, loosening the tongues of beaches,
Which, with ague, recline on cold, cringing currents.

Old cats mourn the fall of strafed pillars
Burrowing through silt-buried kennels re-grassed for the
Salutation of new vistas....

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It was atlantic beach I went
In search of pearls and cowries
Sad, to voidness I return:
I do not see him, Dave my Lyric Man.
My darling Dave, 
Wherever you may be today
Roam not the street when it snows
Lest you soak your feet in it
Snow - yawning hungry morgue-
And coil not like millipede
Nor condense like wintery butter
But remember your warm cafe cup 
And that fair lady you used to write about
Drink and bounce and bounce .

20/11/15...

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Sir – dearest Vicar,
Tho’ you failed to tell
Those that faces in that dark night,
The gods had called the birds 
Fresh from the forced excursions!

Sir – dearest V.C.,
Now, this is another false re-approach: 
Demanding cowries from the birds
For the corns they ate not!
Why are the initial clouds being moved again?

Sir – dearest Vicar,
Free all the caged representors
– We need peace in the communal nest! –
Thanks: yours freed representor....

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This is Ogori-Magongo,
a land of many hills
towering high
above houses and 
farmlands
scattered about
like cowries cast
on a diviner's tray.

Ogori-Magongo,the land
where gunshots herald
 moments of merriment
with well-wishers
dinning till tummies
threaten to burst, 
and wining
till senses go to sleep.

Ogori-Magongo,
a stream from where 
emerge
many intellectual hippos
whose steps quake the 
earth. 



N.B. Ogori-Magongo is a 
community in Kogi state of 
Nigeria....

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