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Jonathan Nartey Poem
How did death find me?
I thought I was just dreaming.
O like seriously
I slapped death.
I know you can't!
But I just did.
Look!
This is how I reprobated his blue.
I fetched the sky for him to sip
Since his throat was dusty
Like the harmattan.
Yet still smile did not dance on his face.
Again!
The waft of the volcano slapped him up
So he was dripping here like a crying bottle
Filled with unflustered water.
Poor you!
O poor you!
Look!
I pleaded with the heavens
For the seed of air
Since Mr. Death was dripping here
Like nobody's business.
Hm, hm, hm.
I can't believe this.
Mr. Death is indeed a Judas.
Upon all the things I did for you, Mr. Death,
You made me devour the knife.
O Mr. Death,
So can you crunch the moon?
O Mr. Death,
O Mr. Death,
Did you know deep within that
I'm more than a Victor?
No, you don't!
Yes! I know very well you don't!
Copyright © Jonathan Nartey | Year Posted 2015
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Details |
Jonathan Nartey Poem
The shimmering sun is throwing
Fire-golf on our derma,
Like it doesn't have head.
But forasmuch the cheek of the cloud
Is telling us that,
It is not unwilling to soak
The sun in his fists,
We can tell by the lips of braveness that,
Tomorrow will smile again.
Why is the invisible face of the wind
Wearing the whiff of the volcano?
Does it mean we're locked up in nether world?
If Mr. Wind is not unhappy to feel this way,
Then we better ought to find
Some bucket to put on.
Since there's no place to salt away.
But we believe with the lips of braveness,
Tomorrow will smile again.
Copyright © Jonathan Nartey | Year Posted 2015
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