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Haggai Imbiaka Poem
Before I leave
Capture this moment
Like the winds on the beach
Let it waft with chilling breeze
On the shores of your conscious
Stirring a foam of nostalgia
Ebbing back on the sea of this moment
Before I leave
Wrap me in your arms
As a slime trail
May the touch be imprinted on your skin
Light of this moment, glitter with silvery touch
Ages even after we part ways
Before I leave
Let me stay a little longer
As a ripe fruit
The love shared at the moment
Gather scintillating colors
Arousing fragrance
Even after it fall on the ground of loneliness
The birds may soar around it with admiration
Copyright © Haggai Imbiaka | Year Posted 2014
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Haggai Imbiaka Poem
The cold biting my skin,
Like nails been hammered in,
Numbing all my nerves,
The dark sinister night,
Installing fear in my heart,
With faceless face,
The night outside,
Reminding me,
Of your magnificent face,
Wish you were here,
See how I yearn for you,
The problem is,
I don’t know you.
But I will wait for you,
As the moon waits for the night.
Copyright © Haggai Imbiaka | Year Posted 2014
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Haggai Imbiaka Poem
What happens when there are no words to write?
When the fragility of inspiration eludes you,
And seem to shutter into pieces,
Against the floor of nothingness,
When tears accompanies no emotion,
When pain watermarks scares to almost oblivion,
Times that wind blows unnoticed,
When words escape memories,
A time when lines lie in dormancy,
The pain of a poet arise
Copyright © Haggai Imbiaka | Year Posted 2014
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Haggai Imbiaka Poem
Tea pot, tea hot,
Hissing sound, sizzling song,
Misty morning, missing someone,
Licking heavens, wrecking rain,
Ticking clock, clicking sound,
Fading memories, caressing moments,
Hypnotizing lights, kryptonite life,
Humming birds, hymning earth,
Graying beards, gaining wisdom,
Poignant stare, crowning scare,
My children in the city, my prayers for the city,
Face wrinkled, love winkle,
Old man’s life, chasing the grave.
Copyright © Haggai Imbiaka | Year Posted 2015
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Haggai Imbiaka Poem
Ask Van Gogh why he painted;
A lunatic left at his own devices
His grey mind sucking colors from the world into a canvas.
Each brush leading to liberation from the known world
The thick paste transforming a canvas;
Into a tapestry vibrating with colors and life.
With precision and trembling hands,
Drawing emotions into shapes.
Stitching tears into beautiful mosaic.
Squeezing love from each strand of the brush bristles.
Sighing with a smile with completion of each piece,
But for an artist, completion never comes.
Lastly succumbing to a death of his own creation,
A silver bullet aimed at his heart
I write because like Van Gogh;
I cannot stop
I write because I want to live
I write because when I stop I will be dead
I write because I am a lunatic
I write because it decrypts the sounds in my head
I write because God created me to do so.
I write for lovers, as they cuddle under the orange sun
I write for enemies, as they search for each other’s soul
I write for the morning sun, a gift from the creator
I write for the night, a blackboard for dreamers
I write for the young, the seeds of future them posses
I write for the old, the fruits of the future they behold,
I will write even if all I get is Facebook likes,
I will write even after my words have been recorded into books,
I will write even if I am the only one reading them
I will write even if the pen pierce my heart; the blood as my last piece of art.
I write because not even death can stop me.
Copyright © Haggai Imbiaka | Year Posted 2014
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