The lines of these two poems, “Hallucinations” and “The Passion” will snake through your mind slowly but with such a marveling intensity. Daniel Tabowei carefully chooses metaphors and imageries with the finesse of a fine-fingered sculptor who chisels a crooked log into a magnificent sculpture. Clearly, Daniel took time to brew these poems and we love(d) every line.
– Editorial Team
Hallucinations
You can
dismember your laughter and
lend pieces of it
to the wind
and you can slot a smile
into empty lips. But in this
poem, you are made
of parts that are
not yours,
splinters
of broken porcelain promises
your mother left you. So
when you finally close your
eyes, you leave
no corpse, no trace,
nothing to show you
were once here.
That is why you
subtract
yourself from this story
and its summation still remains
the same, why you
embalm your body before
you die,
why you are
a
guest at your own
requiem.
You can
also baptize yourself into
your loverβs body and feel
born again while a choir of wingless angels
sings a wordless hymn
in your head. But in this poem,
your devils suddenly decide
to wear white haloes and defy a
swaying,
seething censer.
The Passion
i
The colour of love
is blood.
ii
God bled
the day He tore His temple –
a graffiti of guiltless weals.
iii
God is an
artist that paints miracles on
blank hearts with blood from
palettes of His own veins.
About The Author
Daniel Tabowei is a Nigerian writer who believes in the immortality of love and memories. His works have appeared in Poetry Parlour and Rewind, a poetry collection. He writes from Lagos where he studies Law at the Lagos State University.
