Because we do not preserve memories from decay
By immersing them in vessels filled with formalin,
I tried to remember you today- your smell, your kiss
The beats and lyrics of the songs you said your heart
Sang for me, but I can’t remember any.
Is there a word for the way poets feel when
They realize that their fondest memories are husks-
A pile of grain chaffs- which the winds can blow away
After poems have been winnowed from them?
Can anyone tell us why some love stories are so short
That the reader has barely chewed the first mouthful
Before he looks down and finds an empty plate
With a glass of tears beside it, to wash it down
On nights like these, when insomnia burgle my thoughts
And questions crawl under my duvet to gangbang me,
I whisper your name into the hollow you left in my heart,
And only an echo of silence bounces back- no pain, no hurt
Our #MCM for the week is Saddiq Dzukogi @SaddiqDzukogi. His collection of poems, “Your Crib, My Qibla”, has earned rave reviews since its recent publication.
Award-winning poet, Ilya Kaminsky, describes it as a “stunning, memorable book”!
You had your voice,
yet silence was your outburst ..."
In this #poem, Ojo Emmanuel writes about loss, grief, and the long painful journey to healing. It is a sad, sensational poem & worth the #read.
#poetrycommunity #poets #WritingCommunity
Creativity and simplicity cohabiting in one literary piece, quite a rarity these days!
We loved this story, @ewoe_nam
We still do 👏🏾👏🏾
I am happy to announce that my story has found a home with @eboquills🥳 https://eboquills.com/2021/02/23/brach-and-ara-a-short-story-by-ghanaian-writer-ewoenam-kukah/
Kindly read, comment and share☺️😘.