“Droop Song” and “Andoni” | Tares Banigoe Oburumu

"Droop Song" and "Andoni" | Tares Banigoe Oburumu

Droop Song

 

shaped like a light bulb in a distant home,

like the earth on the eye of a telescope lit

by sunbeams greenshadows

and moonlights, the egg a cone of dreams

 

drops from gray linings

through scented sunrays on a hole or

nest in my heart,

and romping bubbly on the roof of love

dipped in red rose blood fragility hits

awakening,

 

broken, a robin is born; a mold of

music serenading those who die of

love for a corrupt beetle eating deep

into red marrow of the reeds that

measure the marsh with the idiom

of tides,

 

and the roots should hurry the streams

flowing south with the language of

sea gulls worked on the fibres of my

colours, bristling black

 

and let the mangrove trees by the lakes

stretch their long arms

to the island of my birth as I face walls

of eternal waves roaring, rolling mightily

towards a graphless pit of six shades

 

there, death fingers a butterfly revving

the machinery in its thorax for flight,

a troubadour comes on a poorly tuned

wing,

some fishermen too should hear the sad

stories a loner tells as he pines from

pond floors

 

seated on boulders of argument drunk

with the waves’ wine splashing on the

logic of logdrums inverted for the spirit

that do not know why I live on the foot

of a bird

why my voice seeks to merge with the sound

from the other fields green with microphones…

 

 

 

Andoni

 

my life, when it faces volumes

of variations

which broaden the streams

at a border,

as loved,

takes many forms,

 

forms of the chameleon under lampshades,

 

a lament, serenely digging

the yellowstone bedrock

for the song in paraffin flames,

for putsch and lambs

sacrificed for the growth of lilacs

that perfume nostalgia,

 

a lame duck at mudbank a coquette

tracing rivulets with its feet the path trod

by bluejays

 

piquant yet a portent of

shadows floating on

crosswinds

sated with the telex of

sinuous tsunami,

 

how do I ford these forked gulches?

a sister here, a brother there,

both knowing wavestorms

by name had said this while I

was dating a piranha filled

with sun energy ” undress,

feel adam’s pulse at noon,

 

and leave paradise for the God

who was

an unforgiving gardener,

how do I harken to voices

scattered on wind

colliding as they sweep destinies

across landscapes

tattooed with separate cities,

 

the nectarines hanging outwards

from pines

like udders invited by a disinclination; a fledgling

and

conductress rejecting the fare that must be paid,

 

the fare

that is a passport carried in a satchel

to study the purity of disbelief of roots when

emptying one’s soul into exile,

and home, standing strong on the other side

of long valley, weeps for you, Andoni…

 

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Tares Banigoe Oburumu Agbowo Art Tares Banigoe Oburumu is a graduate of philosophy and religion from the University of Benin. He is a lover of God. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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