Poetry by Deji
Adesoye
Monday, January 1, 2018
Your Face
Your
face looks like the washing of plain white
In
detergent and stream
The
foam sparkles with
Sharp
thin bubbles that blow
Aroma
unto the noontime color of a vast sky
Dew
descend in the evening,
On
the fine blades of temper when
You
let loose the feline muscles around your lips
And
when you smile, water runs from street to street
Atmosphere
opens her wide arms
The
body of tension finds Jordan
On
the skin of heaven’s air that baptizes
Soul
for the remission of life’s throes
And
I love to see your chin drop in a staccato grace
In
a moment of laughter
The
velvet coating of the round vase
The
luminal glazing of mist settled on a black cone
Yet
my love, in the fluorescence of evening
You
waft into my soul like the multi-ethnic
Aroma
inside city malls
And
the next morning gleams in your skin
Like
a fresh mint of coin.
Come to Me Now
I
saw you in my sleep
in
a blue hat.
You
ran along a rail track.
In
my sleep I saw you in a blue hat
and
blue-white laced sleeves
I
beckoned to you.
But
your face also, was blue…when
you
turned a look at my side…
You
have not stopped running away
***
Come
to me now that the sun is coming
And
let us watch the tide climb gently
Dance
to the warm rhythm of dawn
Let
me hold your hand
The
young sun rises from under our eyes
Love
was born in dawn and warm
The
twilight triumph of new palm fronds
Then
let us age with the sun
Rising
and setting
Rising
and setting
Sitting
at this balcony witnessing the birth
Of
morning, day after day
Till
eyes get weary to behold the dazzling light,
Passing
along as we pass the time of life, in
The
snug embrace of Mother Nature
Who
divided a soul in two
Lodged
the pieces in two bodies
Come
to me now, when it is dawning
The
evening shall come when we cannot play in grass
The
evening of life when the grass is tawny.
Lullaby
Sing
the lullaby, gently
And
let me drift away on your soft lap
I
have sucked your breasts after all, and
Bit
your nipples; your nipples that
Shine
with waiting milk and stand up
Sing
this lullaby, my mother; the child
Flops
that calls her mother baby too: this naughty
Head
of mine taking breeze in the verandah of
Your
wristbands, fingers that walk down my chest
With
the step of water.
[Listen
jesters, I have overeaten vegetable.]
And
allow me to combine my eyelids, sip sweet nap in
Your
youthful hands. And I will love
To
drift away in this courtyard hedged by your
Laps’
laces, when soil makes haste to harvest me—
And
my ears on your soft skirts
Gathering
your last voice
[upon
broken beads of presence]
Shrinking
in the lullaby of departure.
Deji Adesoye is
a Nigerian philosopher, writer and poet. His works have appeared on
Thenewblackmagazine.com, Bravearts Africa, Kalahari Review, BrittlePaper.com,
Ijagun Poetry Journal, the Ann Arbor Review etc. He is the author of Anony Mous, a poetry e-book. Many of his
works are also featured on his blog www.dejidesoyemi.wordpress.com