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Pita Okute Poem
The yolk simmers
a large golden spread
far as eye can take
The heat piercing through
dots the lavish paint
with tiny red wounds
The ragged yellow-brown
greasy lace curtain
hugs the ashen wall
A child is waiting
the outsides interlope-in
sounds,smells,sweet'n sour
In haze within
fleeting shades swirl
on a weary-go-round
Eternity ticks on...
he's a willing puppy
after one fatty bone!
The canvas lifts
and in the russet dungeon
a sudden growing glow
A glimmering amber force
striding down stone steps
and then...he's free!
To a universe pink and green
silken air, velvety earth
riding on a rising cloud
The light appearing
in swaddling white
urges him on...
Jubilant, wondering
he takes a doubting step
but he falters, then falls...
Copyright © Pita Okute | Year Posted 2005
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Pita Okute Poem
The saints are wailing again
Rhapsodies too for sinful man
Since every heart is drunken with guilt
These holy fears washing the land
Swamp the drains, flood the pond
Pastor shamed indoors since yesterlight
Makes several tries at love everlasting
Which sweet friction the springs protest
In loud parody discordant
The eaves,the tiles have ears for such
Gossip sticky wet,dripping with harm
Gladly passed on down the block
To warm the hours of restive loss
But breeze and drizzle in raucous refrain,
Mock in harmony the lust by most
For yuppy drives and chancy grabs
When the spectral arc appearing soon
Should fill their days with gentle hope
Copyright © Pita Okute | Year Posted 2005
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Pita Okute Poem
Now,shall we sing your song
In oases round the earth
Where,glowing orbs in shady halls
Rolling hips, painted lips
Announce with distanced faith
"We are the world..."
No,it won't be your crown,rugged priest
Though princes snicker at your snickers
And hallowed monks on hand,
Swear at your loosened cuffs
Your nimbus 'round shaggy locks
The misty tears that would not drop
To wet the rough droughty plain
Drinking pain in place of rain
Sweet choir at our festive Mass
Droning birds swirling dust
Bringing only,so much grain
But plenty more in hope and love
To a world of cheerless seasons
From saviours with kindly reasons
Leading them a Boom town saint
In jeans, with guitar and song
God bless you, Bob Geldof!
Copyright © Pita Okute | Year Posted 2005
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Pita Okute Poem
Smell of onion rouses I room
I brain sizzles on
blood soiled fat of I pimples
In this matchbox
a lone rattling stick
decries the clinging dark
Out these windows faint lights call
Within I box,the shadows grow
I hand trembles at the knot
I dream dangles in the void
Silent,the walls stare now
their ears are full
with frizzling omelet sounds
Hear them sniffing so
I must go before they speak
...to meet the sunrise while it sets
...to meet the sunrise while it sets
Copyright © Pita Okute | Year Posted 2005
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Pita Okute Poem
She would not yield
I could not bend
Though I died from the bout.
Go tell it on the radio
We are thoughts and actions
The talk between rarely counts
Ws are extremes all
This world has an edge
There, all things come to end
No one finds it till they fall
Off the sharp slithering bay
I was hoarse with weeping
Fate had broken my spine
She stood astride my chest
She would spit in my face
Saw me look up her gaping skirt
Caught the mockery in my dimming eyes
And bolted away in shame
My last-breath=cackle chasing
True,I had a scrap with ugly Fate
But won the duel clean and fair
When I died fighting
Copyright © Pita Okute | Year Posted 2005
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