OF MULES AND MEN

Is there pride left

In a mule,

Who the burdens of men

Has mutely borne?

Though he may kick and balk

When wrongly stroked,

Or falter in the wake

Of a gurgling stream-

When called upon…

Or coaxed onto, by duty’s beck

Our wares he bears with saintly grace-

Like one whose calling, alas is found.

Leroy was a working man

He worked real hard……

But his time was short;

He had his bills and mouths to feed

He worked himself to death!

Is there another hell for Leroy

When the one swallowed him alive

Was gifted him at birth?

For his soul’s relief, God please forbid

For a man is not a mule.

By

Hope Kalé Ewusi ©

CUPFUL OF LONGING

I’ve seen the walls of cathedrals...

Marveled at their towering spires.

I’ve stood before ornate alters

My ears thrilled with homilies

And utterances of impassioned clerics:

I’ve sung hymns and canticles

That glorify the heavenly chieftains-

Pressed flesh onto flesh on padded pews.

I’ve seen faces, faces and more faces

In the holiest of holy place; yet

Absent most conspicuously was that of God

   FALL
Dry leaves

Blown about;

Naked trees

Prostrate before

Cool autumn breeze….

Fleeting November-

Catchy jingles

Dancing shadows

Summon the ghosts

Of Christmas ’ past

By

Hope Kalé Ewusi ©

EMBRACE THE DAWN

The night was fading with the clock

Culling lighter shades of peat;

And I, witness to this unfolding…

My wishful dreams of yester night

Smothered by the load of care

Caused to defer my morning brew

So the pulse of dawn I chose to ride

Dusting flakes from yawning eyes.