early mourners i
Before the morning crow is set
and the grey dew drops in thin shreds,
i recall my mournful longings
and the melody of sadness;
that which came with my pleased longings..
'N' on those pure greens, with sacredness
of natural breathing. i thought
out; that these drops washes 'sterday
in the pelting of melting snow —
so do i, in my longing wish.
and when i rise while i rest there,
my soul had left me in myself.
and my thought longs in nearness, that,
ev'n a dew will fill my basket...
may God console morning mourners!
early mourners ii
Voices made me cry;
and when i was tears.
when i was those drops
of knitting needles,
when i, nobody.
yet still. i still live.
and when i hear their
voices like the pant
of a crying dove,
and when i flash-back
t' when my soul left me.
why will i not cry
as if they ne'er were?
when my façade fades
like a rinse of muds.
so why will i n't wish;
that which i once felt
my foe should ne'er feel.
and pain still exist
yet joy does too, and
when the sun 's sleeping
it wakes a walk'ng moon.
you are the yellow
wake the tired blue.
early mourners iii
What do i seek in a night when
my sorrow leaves me not? if i
know, would i not 've cozily slept?
What do i seek in the morning
when know i not where to go? if
the mirror stares, would i not look?
I am a bird, that sings to th' world
but they do not hear, 'cause my soul
is not there. i am like the dead
Not willing to live. yet i want
to live like the fish of th' water
but my time, my time, grieves my soul.
"words from the innocent mind"
Akinwale Peace Akindayo