Author: poetryfest

The complex was like a cell
Barred window and patio
The halls dim and endless
Like a haunted hotel
Death lingers here
Against the walls and doors
Each unit has a story
Her mother had grown ill here
Hours before her death
The complex held each soul captive
Until it called them home
Each one by one

She came in from the west
left seeds upon my breasts,
little seeds that sprouted
with the salty rain that came next.
They thrived off the sour streams
that flowed like a waterfall down my throat.
They grew around me,
feeling like an old moth-eaten coat,
receding with the seasons.
The sprouts like ivy and vines
wrapped around my heart,
providing shelter from the incoming
pounding rain.
They created a shield
keeping me from hearing when
the cliffs would call my name.
The vines and ivy soon sprouted flowers;
bright red poppies,
roses that slowly turned white.
All around my shoulders,
the little blossoms sprung
favoring the left,
where the soil was raked the most.
I take care of my flowers
my life depends on them;
they are the last string tying me to reality
and grief.
I love my flowers
I cherish them every day.
I brandish them to the sun
for no reason other than to shame the moon.
For the moon is the mother of wind
and the sun is the father to rain.

My mama told me that my father used to hold her with fervor/ they would slow dance to Luther and Gerald/ memorize their words like old church sermons/ pecking each other’s lips like the day was meant for just that/ no time for anything else/ just gold caps on rotting teeth/ delta blues being echoed through the street’s/ the levee filled with gambler’s ready to sign their dollars away/ mama chastised but still he went/ telling her, heart in hand, wrapped in tamale husk, saying, “Sweet baby, I know when to hold ’em. Damn sho know when to fold ’em.”/ coming home with his shotgun close and a few hundred in his pocket/ whispering them seductive hymns as he slid between her legs/ asking for another kid to add to the litter/ asking for forgiveness when anger brought them low/ falling on their knees to pray for their Lord to bring their love back/ on high ground

I had forgotten
The sound of rain on hope,
And the feel of your body
As we laid in the darkness.

But now,
It seems I can’t forget,
Can’t sustain a single breath
Where my hands do not miss
The light and rhythm of our city.

After we said goodbye, I shook.
Not from pleasure or pain,
But simply from an excess of everything,
From the gasp of reality.
That simple fact of life,
The neon shock of existence,
Kissing us forward,
Enveloping us in silent, gray cloaked hope

They are my words to say.
I am the one who gets to say them.
You don’t say them; you hear them.
At least, You’re supposed only to hear them.
They aren’t your words to say.
You’re Not the one who gets to say them.
I’m not supposed to hear them; I say them.
At least, I’m supposed to say them.
They were my words to say.
I was the one supposed to say them.
I wasn’t the one who said or heard them.
At least the words were said, right?
But they were my words to say.
Not your’s.

I smoke to take the pain away
Hoping for better days
That I don’t have to stress
And just be blessed
What God blew my way

I run to take the pain away
Running just clears my brain away
Away of any negative thoughts
That I may have running through my mind at the time

Time is something we can’t get back
So why do I waste my time
Letting these negative thoughts run my mind

I write to take the pain away
Who cares what I write anyway
See, there you go
Negative thoughts running through my mind all the time

All the time like a sick rhyme
That you can’t get out of your head
These negative thoughts
They will keep you in bed

So, I smoke to take the pain away
Hoping for better days
That I can be blessed and live my days with no stress
See, I know that I am blessed
Because God has given me the best

I think it’s just time to put these negative thoughts to rest
I smoke to keep the pain away
Write to keep the pain away
Run to keep the pain away
I’ll stop hoping and I’ll start praying for better days
Stop smoking to keep the pain away
Just keep the things that cause you pain
Away
You won’t even need to pray for better days

The genre of this poem is painful romance, being unable to know whether they are in love or not.

Reality
Jesus I need an answer
God, please speak to me
Please
I’m begging you

I’m terrified
I don’t know how I feel
I don’t know what I feel
What is love
What is hate
When no one tells me
What it’s like
I’m truly afraid
To say I don’t love
That I can’t
But do I
Is it attention
Or more
Is it popularity
Or more

So for now
I say I hate you
I say I always did
I say I never cared
If you cared about me
I say that I don’t want
To keep looking at you
I say that my love
Belongs to someone else
I say that I only want
To be friends

If half of what I say
Is true
And the other
Unknown
Then am I in love?
And will I ever
Have an answer
Because from what I see
It doesn’t feel like it
I’m desperate

Setting forth from a place obscure,
Bearing tidings from the world of the ethereal to the natural,
His presence commanding the attention of the ever teeming crowd,
Creating an enthralling, yet ominous aura.

The Harbinger,
Herald of frank realities,
Sentient of the burdening questions of the people.
To some, he is a demigod,
To others, a messenger of doom.

In spite of this ambivalence of the arena,
In spite of the convoluted ambiance,
In spite of this mental contraption instigated by his countenance,
This multitude eagerly awaits his message,
Like the hungry puppy longs for its mother’s milk.

Having gained the people’s unwavering gaze, he begins his clarion call:
“ Hark, people!”, he calls.
“Brace up! For the worst is yet to come;
Likewise the best”, proclaims the Harbinger.

“For I, during my nomadic wanderings,
Have seen the people; children of Mother Universe,
Each embattled with his woe.
The poor striving to usurp his penury,
And the rich burdened with his insatiable desire for more.
And I, upon this epiphany,
Am marveled at how belligerent Mother Universe
Could be towards her own children”, Confesses the Harbinger.

“Hence, I bid thee;
If you shall set sail into the deep of the waters of the world,
You must hoist your mast and launch your jib,
That it may resist the violent waves of the ocean’s wind.
You must get hold of your helm,
Propelling the rudder to lose not its course.
Else, you shall be capsized by the tumultuous torrents of the sea”, he concludes.

With his words resonating deeply in the hearts of this crowd,
And his errand accomplished,
The Harbinger departs,
To return a day unknown.

About:

Hi, I’m Durodola-Oloto Olaore, a 2nd year student of the department of English and Literary studies, University of Lagos. I’m a poet with a published piece on Brittle Paper and other forthcoming publications elsewhere. I’m a reader, a writer, an independent thinker and most importantly, I’m The Colossus Himself!

You can say hi to me on Twitter @olaore_philip, Instagram @iam.colossus

When I wake up I hear the morning doves
They sing me a song called “Love” it’s bittersweet
It lifts me off my feet and I can’t get enough
So I step outside to praise the sun for lighting my life
This feels so right as I smell the morning dew
It’s so hard to chew, this candy called happiness
Do you know its truth?

Mothers in the eyes of the world were perfect. They could do nothing, not a single thing to harm the child and in every case, her mother was no different. She was beaten day after day for the most mundane things. She was framed, blamed and defamed by the so-called sweet words of her mother. She began to change, her sweet ways now wicked. The world which once had colour was now black and white in her eyes. She closed up, moving as far away as she could from anyone and anything.
She
seeked comfort from herself or anyone willing to give all because of her mother. She masked her imperfections because no one would want to see it said her mother. She buried all her problems because no one would want to hear it including her mother. She changed. To the eyes of the people she was a beast. A beast created by her mother. She cried for help but couldn’t be heard over the deceptive smile of her mother. She stopped trying because all her efforts seemed to go in vain. She finally changed. She became the people’s image of her because suddenly she couldn’t care less. She became what her mother taught her to be but obviously, this wont satisfy her mother. She became a beast to her own mother. She became a menace all because of the teachings of her mother. Her
mask
slipped on occasion and with hope, she called out for help again but who would hear it over the sweet words of her mother. Her masked slipped all the time now but only out of anger. She acted out of fear, hatred and revenge. She eventually became confused. Why would she be a beast? Weren’t this the teachings of her mother? She would never know because her mother was gone now and all that’s left
is a shadow of her mother.