(I)
A year to chase fame
Like an elusive little lamb
Until it succumbs at dusk.
(II)
A year to read burnt memories,
And to write memories
Slipping from time’s glass.
(III)
A year to wake up with
Heavy knots of perspiration,
Dreaming of things yet to come.
(IV)
A year to grow tender chrysanthemums
Beside the river path and to say to its helix
A farewell to those who have crossed.
(V)
A year to throw serrated hats
Tossed upwards by gravity and beaming smiles
In front of flashing Nikons.
(VI)
A year to walk the pallid streets with a worn shoe;
A worn coat – or rain coat;
A worn certificate – under the sun’s glaring passage at noon.
(VII)
A year to barge in tall buildings enveloped in tranquil greenness;
Little offices sitting in large spaces – with an old typewriter clicking –
With resumé, swearing with heaven’s wrath you can work.
(VIII)
A year to leave for a tranquil greenness;
Of lush leaves; of the forest swaying gently to the foreign breeze –
In the warm temperament of the European sun.
(IX)
A year to dance down the humming street of Princeton –
Or the sun-burn streets at home –
Hoping Monday comes, to begin an earning job.
(X)
Seven years: for the rough beast to slouch towards Bethlehem
From the reel shadows of indignant desert birds:
To bring to naught all our sweat and gain and tilling of the vain earth.
About The Author
ADEPOJU Isaiah Gbenga is a teen poet, dramatist, reviewer, and fiction writer. He works at Tribesmen House and Writers’ Global Movement as Editor. A coordinator at Praxis Hangouts. A coordinator at HillTop Creative Arts Foundation, Minna. In 2020, he was shortlisted for the Africa Writers’ Award. He’s been published internationally.
Eboquills
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