[Poet’s Note : this is a wry autobiographical memory written in traditional pirouette verse viz. 2 quintains, line 5 & 6 repeat, which is the toe turnaround. I wanted to write a narrative of a weird syncopated vignette, when I was knitting a pink mohair jersey at the time of my imprisonment. I reduced the narrative to a pirouette. When in prison, one of my interrogators was knitting the EXACT jersey in the exact colour & exact wool ! ie. in the final analysis, (in retrospect) everything in human life can be reduced to a pirouette, a turn-around dance ! ]
knitting a pink jersey
mohair with cables fine
to process flying thoughts
political activist
south africa turmoiled
south africa turmoiled
security police
came with casspirs and cuffs
interrogation chamber
police knit jersey pink
~~~~~~~~~
I’m not happy nor healthy in my mind right now
It’s clouded and bleak
Not knowing which direction
Not knowing what l seek
Can’t sleep , forever tired
No interest “to ever do”
No motivation nor energy
Turmoiled mind and soul ,feeling blue
The flame that burns within me
No longer burns bright
Desperately struggling
Just to stay alight
I cannot see that light at the end of the tunnel
Nor a lighthouse to guide my way
I just want to close my eyes right now
Until clarity, rationale and time rids my minds disarray
Eclipse begs beasts bays: Chaos and Havoc
as the scheming plots a clock, e'er so close.
Ill sprites hover and bobble ... spasmatic
entities let loose their suffering throes.
Screams and wails are a precursor outbreak
of the cavernous peel that the master--
is nigh--and that the hellish host bewake,
yond slithered pets whip, for the taskmaster.
Becalm, bestilled, beware forevermore,
whilst the knell toils its toll and the uncoiled
hast sprung a boy no more behind the door,
third strike's out a poise shadows earth, turmoiled.
Minute passage as minutes flash a fear,
fourth nil toil nexus whence hell domineer.
I dreamt I saw you
And you talked to me
Even though I was hurt
And my eyes were full of tears in that dream
And I was leaving you because I was not ok
It felt like my turmoiled emotions were lightly caressed and embraced
Waking up I felt strangely satisfied
Something I haven't felt since I lost you
And that's just too many years ago
I knew we had a toxic association
But half of me can't figure out if you were toxic too
Even though I was broken in my little ways too
Making myself prey to those who were preditors
And I can't for the life of me figure out if you were just preying on me
If me and you meant nothing to you
When we meant the world to me
And maybe I know and I am a little too afraid to accept the truth
And maybe I am just totally incapable of accepting it
Because in this lifetime nobody does but you
And I can't be with anyone else
And that's a scary thought
And I want to break from this misery
Because nobody deserves to hurt me like that
And gets to live without losing me
Call me a coward
But even though the story of my life reads like a disjointed paragraph
I believe it was necessary to lose you
She walks with dreams, deep passions woo,
Into euphoric ambience of a moonlit night
Carrying sweet secret, so intimate and true,
Sprouting in her womb blossoms of delight.
Though they are together, he feels all alone,
Trapped in turbulence of memories unkind,
Nothing she can say would emotions atone
Grief of matrimony he chose to leave behind.
Agitating unspoken, dissonant pulse of strife
His turmoiled heartbeats now brutally amplify
Frightened by weary past to embrace a new-life
When spiteful bonds of yore earnestly decry.
She tries, yet decides, now is not the time
Waiting till moon and stars are so inclined
To witness with Venus, dear-moment sublime
And unveil the script that destiny designed.
Clenched clandestine vibes utter a soft sigh
As happily her stomach churns butterflies;
And, until next-time, she bids him goodbye,
When they’ll guess the color of baby’s eyes.
Vulnerable she feels now, how will he react:
Will he welcome baby, yet harp in the past?
Will he face with courage or opt to retract?
Convulsed, she shudders~ will this love last?
May 5, 2023
Placed 1st: Pick-A-Title, Vol 36 – Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
I sit by the sea on my chair,
A fold away I’ve had for years
Now faded from my summers’ use
Each year the temperature got warm
As it is today, watching waves
Come crashing upon golden sands.
Sea gulls screech and scream, flying high
Up in a dark but deep blue sky
Where fluffy white clouds scoot on by
And I say “hi” to passersby
Who in turn greet me with their “hi”
And sitting here I ask me “why”?
It is so peaceful on this beach
Yet the whole world is so turmoiled
Engaged in wars, genocides and
All things that man just should not do
To all his fellowman each day…
A gull just swooped down low.
W.C.Hull © 2020-10-7-WCH-2-18
W.C.Hull © 2020-10-7-H1475-2585
-I52-K52-53-L59-25
The ocean waves
foaming at the mouth, frothing and churning
in turmoiled tempests unyielding
with time marching on, the seconds ebbing in then out;
saltwater sprays
burns the skin chills the body
and the moon pulls and tugs
at the sands on the shore.
The weather changes quickly
summer turns to fall, autumn spinning toward winter
spring nothing but a memory
as the earth revolves around the sun;
there slip the years with its memories,
the age of youth lost to hurried revelations,
too late to go back again, to dream of future yet to be
and the footprints in the sand of you and me.
“A meager life!”
the world hurls out.
Brooding rage stirs -
grave music in mind:
an orchestra of feelings,
unsatisfied turmoiled thoughts,
perceived by paining wounds -
heartbeat
with frightening velocity.
An enfant terrible -
Alone,
singing to himself
a parable:
paradoxal
to martyred music,
divining
death
while the blithe world laughs
with an uplifted voice.
A broken vessel
trapped in
shuddering darkness
and contrasting quietness
secret stirrings,
saturated senses -
quick ticks the clock…
A twilight lit room:
shining whiteness spreads,
as stars burn bright
and rain sluices down
over sun burnt grass
and folded flowers,
the silver moment
bleached with rain
dies in darkness,
while a woeful crimson
glissades across eyes
acknowledging sorrow:
maybe a disguise
for vengeance.
A voiceless void:
phantoms of thoughts
from which even
shadows flee.
A lovely child -
alone;
smothered,
by bloodshot clouds…
and nerve strained eyes...
It's wonderful to have three wishes granted
The first one l'd take is for my failing health
My age-worn blocked heart wears two stents
I wish they don't fail until l take my last breath.
Life is treading turmoiled pathway so unsure
Mind is searching a destination, a calm niche
Where it'll find the shade of peace pristine pure
To reach the tranquil abode is my second wish.
Many warm hands held mine on my journey
From your blooming hearts fragrance came
I wish till the end of my time you'll love me
And remember me when I'm gone as I am.
October 27, 2018
I sat at the exit of life,
My ears perceiving diverse trends.
Tis about the misfortune of the fortunate,
And the rebuke of the appraised:
Turmoiled state and heightened corruption;
Na Buhari.
Removal of subsidy sustaining scarcity;
Na Buhari.
Petroleum stretched her wing and soar to
145 naira;
Na Buhari.
Increase in price of goods;
Na Buhari.
Troop of sermonizers stealing away hearts;
Na Buhari.
A Boyfriend smashed the heart of his girl;
Na Buhari.
A mother kept seven meats in the pot but
finds just one:
Na Buhari.
Landlord increases the house rent:
Na Buhari.
Pastor lays curses on Members:
Na Buhari.
Caught in hunger's spell, a man willingly
visited death:
Na Buhari.
Different heads making noise in an hall;
Na Buhari
A man who woke up late for work;
Na Buhari.
A tailor who missed the proposed design;
Na Buhari.
Your Techno WX3 contract virus;
Na Buhari.
Even of what he knows nothing about;
Na Buhari.
Mr?
Ensure you do an affidavit.
Let them keep calling it,
You'll know that's not your name.
Oh Buhari.
18: 01: 20: 04: 55
Oh! oarsman
Take me home
Yonder lies
My cuddled dreams
My sweatheart and everything
I have been away
Too long
Eons and scores sway
Too small to hum their song....
Cant bear the ripples
And the whirls ...
The known waters
Seem so strange now
Calmness above water
But turmoiled under
Just like
My yearning heart
Oh! oarsman
Row me faster to the weeping shore
I dont ever want to do this anymore
Oh! oarsman
Take me home..
Outside the city where the pomegranates grow,
Where that ocean that gently sweeps my brow,
Collides with the rurality of the cows giving milk,
In a fusion spring loaded with happiness and silk.
My true love comes to me,
My sweet blossom of agony,
Offering affection and love,
Rendering light from above.
Leaves that brush up against my dark complexion,
Swirl with buzz for life’s energising bright reflection,
So active in their encouragement to ponder anew,
On distances and hesitations that become only a few.
My true love comes to me,
My sweet blossom of agony,
Offering affection and love,
Rendering light from above.
Rows and rows suggest the answer to all frowns,
Is to inquire with nature and ecology’s ready gowns,
Wear them with pride because dignity will at last fall,
When reason and truth wade the dark, turmoiled hall.
My true love comes to me,
My sweet blossom of agony,
Offering affection and love,
Rendering light from above.
If there is a god and how is it possible, there is not,
then he would be right here
sitting next to me on this bench.
He would already know and see
the peace and tranquility
lying in the midst of the yard’s activity
as it is set aside from the world around.
These wooden fences
high and stiff
close in this safe escape
from the turmoiled anxiety beyond the gate.
He would rest momentarily
recalling to me the story of the first garden
with all its possibilities,
now lost.
The trees would bow in the wind
sweeping a grand display of thank yous
in gratitude to the wonders
of his magnificent design.
The waters would flow clear and untainted
singing praise to its Creator
who gave life to all around
the birds, the fish, creatures and humankind.
Then, when he was satisfied and refreshed
with the beauty, hope and love that thrives
He’d move on
to other tasks.
As corporate execs rub their hands together
In greedy glee on seats of plush leather
The man on the street smells the breath of the city
Whilst the man in the tower thinks himself quite witty
As the look down upon the masses below
Eking a living, walking hungry and slow
On the sidewalk that feels like the skin of the city
But as the markets fall and crash
The wealthy man becomes poor in a flash
And in anxiety and desperation
His turmoiled mind finds a last inspiration
To walk to the balcony with a sobbing cry
And to spread his wings with hope he can fly
And the city below opens its mouth
As the suddenly poor plummets down south
And the stench of the breath of the eternal city
Is the fetid decay of the man that was witty
Yet the steady masses still stumble along
To the beat of the street and the city’s live song
My soul is dark
Blackened by my misery-self pity
I feel depressed
What does that mean?
At 30 years of age, I have learnt so much
Yet,accomplished nothing
My life is stationery, maybe regressing
But no forward movement
Progress?
Achievement?
Goals?
Words I so carelessly abuse
But never apply
I, my own worst instrument of destruction
I am fearful of what I can become
Turmoiled by what I know but so often lack
I, so ambitious, contribute so little
To my life, my dreams, my existence
I, who give so much and expect even more
From those who give even less
I am surrounded by negative souls
Bodies that hold me back from reality
Boredom rules and empty promises govern
I am What? Who?
Where am I going?
What is my plan?
I am alone, so alone
Lost....
Again, I feel depressed.
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