My Poetry Diary

Twenty widows at the confessional pleads, ‘O thou send a soothers as thy spirit leads, Twenty more long years will make thy servants numb, A momentary storm that will make thy ladies come’ Amidst the metal grill, the priest subtly grinned, With a crucifix he bade the hallowed wind, ‘Howbeit thou seekth no pertinence to thine needs, O twenty widows accept thy Godspeed'. (c) gafar

I heard the trumpet, the crier has come; Alas some tiding, hear his call; Amidst the clouds and batá drum, Be not weary (he says), the rain will fall; With her fresh airs, that give a sensual hum, Gather around, your little ones, old and all, She will wash away the dustiness, covid and glum, Hasten your steps, deliberately it will pour. (c) gafar - Rain will Fall

As I traverse countless stars, In a sleep far and beyond mars, O’ Lord keep me safe from all graves, Make me sail gallantly above all waves, But if I should die at those hours, Let it be a concord that’s only ours; Be my light all through the way I pray, Acquit me O’Lord on judgement day I say. Gafar Odubote, "As I traverse the countless stars", copyright 2020

Another tree was dropped - what a loss!, From the axes and plastics that suffocated her bud, She was the giant one, I heard the powerful thud; Lamenting and supplicating while she sobbed. I listened closely and made the notes. Last night she heaved and saw not the light, She peered through, but the reflections were none of the stars - she cried! Erstwhile its beauty beckons even at night; Planet earth is dying even to mars - she sighed! The cheerful bees were long gone and said their byes, The squirrels sore-throated and sneezes with hollowed skins; The butterflies punctured wings with emissions flaked eyes; The little ones chopped, those were her kins. She sent her roots to the sea but met a dead deep; The thrash has taken over; The sea was forced to sleep; The deities were angry at the sea-rover; She heard the ancestors exclaimed “ O' abomination” The goddess abode long gone and desecrated: With plastics, and chemical defecation;

The path of circle, leads from here to here, Behold the karma, is unfair and near; Lo, the scepter of mercy wielded by the garment of aristocracy, O! wearied constitution and of the patched injury by hypocrisy:  The mediocre’s singspiel crowed aloft and quaver not, With profligacy, the elite yielded in piety and rot; What connections have rectitude and piety? The clergies with honed pipe of dubiety. what relevance is sanctity in hell? The path of circle, leads from here to here, In ardor of promises; the ordained futilely yelled; O, far gone utopia and paradise smeared; Sorry I have not; thou ordained the rot and the scepter; The nobles and clansmen aswarm with nepotic nectar; O friend! be purified and soberly fight; The sobriety of faith and decency is in flight. Gafar Odubote, “Karma”, copyright 2020

A Lagos workers’ life; The buzzing starts at five! The eyes sleeps and walk, Everyone meet and talk, They wake before a rooster crow, And get home to startle the Owl. Their necks dangling in ties, Commuters soaked in miles; The honks and horns breaks the tide, The hawkers and peddlers fervently glide; A rush up the lift or stairs in swift; To avoid bossy morning rift, Lips burnt with gallons of coffee, Surrounded by ladies that tastes like toffee; The AC bites off the tropical sun, At every 5 minutes, they uncontrollably yawn. At every 4 minutes the table phone scowl, Followed by husky voice with intermittent dusky growl, Files in hand and some undated scrolls, They come up with excuses for a deniable no! Hurriedly instinct summoned every tales of data, A shield and armor, before a worker gets a sack letter; So little they do and little undo; Depending on the take-home bundle; Again at an outbound round of five, So start again a Lago