Posted: September 20, 2013 in Poetry

by Ceejon Ezinwoke

A thousand torn treatise of trust and truce
A wavering white flag worn-out and washed
A prank, a proof of so pure a perfidious prone
Like talking to Turks through crusader texts

Sleepless spirits
Hunched, Hands akimbo
At that same valley;
where the eyes met desires
where the heart met her needs
where the grey met time the healer

A calabash-full of grief
In where affection was deeped
Crushed, cursed and caused to dissolve
To dissolve with plenty ease

A fracture-pain tale
Stored in melancholy mien
Of far-gone-deeds
In the youthfulness of time
Of romeo-julietic devotion
Void yet,
Of evenness on scale’s pans

A death they say heralds another birth
A learning, a cue to wake the sleepy mind
A dozen column of soldiers ready to defend
Its time I held my heart in my own hands.

Lyriversity — Liberty of Creativity


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