LUNAR BLOSSOM

The moon is ripe, lodged in my hands;

Gone now are the days of barren soles.

That which was forgotten now reads the sand

Where at the gilded altar now I stand

I watch the dawn embrace my varnished soul.

The moon is ripe, cupped in my hands..

A thousand bolts can't thwart the wand

And set me adrift, still lost in the shoal.

That which was forgotten, now reads the sand-

But how will they know or understand

That my broken shards now form a whole?

Still the moon is ripe, clasped in my hands:

Let minstrels prance and strike up the band-

For my errant darts have struck their goal.

That which was forgotten, now reads the sand

And the street is raving about my new brand...

My song on every lip - my name on every scroll

For the moon is ripe, lodged in my hands

And that which was forgotten, now reads the sand.

By

Hope Kalé Ewusi

                 PAIN
   
 

That which at a moment's pulse

Would thwart the will, and bid it

Wish or seek the tyrant's hand

While tinsels and plums rot in vain.

Who feels it knows - when smiles turn to brine...

And  scowls  the anguished port would drape

Where from the sun in haste had set  adrift .

Of different shades and tones confirmed:

The sudden stitch - the jab - the stab.....

The lazy rodent gnawing the trunk!

Oh how the maiden she buckles so

While the fruit of life she bears,

And the crowns of men anointed thus

With the load of daily cares!
Though some the bewitching hand may rile-

For life's entangled web of woes,

The bane of such to one resorts,

Who at the creeper's behest, to sin conspired

And the evil eye forth no shame would know;

Her unyielding aspect, our constant foe

Rattling cages, bruising souls down to the bone.......

Our charms and potions she  rendered naught-

The vilest of which no peace accords!

Yet to the faithful succor prevails and hope abides

To all who the promised rapture await

When all that was written will come to pass.

By

Hope Kalé Ewusi ©

COMING OUT OF THE DARK　

I’ve plowed red earth
With the might of a dozen oxen….
Scattered my grains on glistening dew;
The reaper inquires in my stead-
How does one count to twelve….
When one is missing on the grid?
　
Dark nights and checkered dawns
Have I of lately known……
Danced on the razor’s edge,
Barely holding on-
What kept me from tipping?
　
The masquerade has come and gone...
And I too must move on;
Broken clay pots seldom mend….
So I’m picking up the drift woods
Of by gone tides;

　

I’ll make myself a happy bonfire
And feast on its crimson embers-
Its ashes on new trails I’d spread.
This token oblation …….
My slumbering cocoon quickens thus;
Brand new butterfly – watch me soar.　
　
By   Hope Kalé Ewusi ©
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                   PATIENCE

Great sentient muse, thy virtues we beseech

May we with temperance course through life

Not like the cold tempestuous sea-

That breaks and foam and curse in strife;

But through prayer and chastity be like Job

Who in temptation eschewed blasphemy.

What beauteous art thy hands have wrought….

Earth wind and fire at your behest

Did in time conceive such vaunted works

Of which with reverent due, our mouths attest.

Oh patience! Thou who from faith ensued;

Wring us all of impulsive strains -

That with forbearance, may we endure

With stalwart hope, the quest for eternal bliss.

 

                   By

         Hope Kalé Ewusi©

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LOVE’S PICKETS

Oh for such titillation

And sensual bliss-

Love’s elixir enlivening

Hearts of amorous beings

With arms entwined and curves

Aligned in serpentine pose…

Magic unfolds with rhythmic flair.

‘Tis of such that the poets rave

That where love’s pickets

Bind two hearts and flames alight

As from a homely hearth-

Songs of the lyre thrills the air.

But when love is spent….

Rancid and stale, it burns

With the sting of aged brine;

So take heed you feuding birds

And bid not one another gloom.

By

Hope Kalé Ewusi ©
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REFLECTIONS

                REFLECTIONS

“In The Shade Of A Pecan Tree”

Curious souls in trivial quest oft’ seek to know

By what design the rushing wind blows,

But in the throes of deeper contemplation

Oft’ ponder the meaning and nature of things.

Thus from reflection to illumination - triumph ensues

For to know is to seek and decode the sage’s brow.

Yet triumph, though sweet a serpentine bliss

Onto fallenness  and shades of blue must bow.

For loss, change-decay to life is bound,

Like an importunate foe courting our door.

Still not to the wise alone  such keenness is due.

If onto fatal instincts the laggard concedes,

Doomed are his sails when life’s gale tidings blow

Yet in life, hope abides to all who would accede.

By

Hope Kalė Ewusi ©
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LEASE OF LORE

Onto the seekers, he gave his word

As to knowledge – its accoutrements

That understanding begets responsibility-

the lease of lore.....

From which ensues opportunity

For the foolish mane so to shed.

Now hail you scions of Socrates

To whom his don is bequeathed;

Bid not your laurels beguile your wit

Nor dim your hunkering souls.

Yet if need of comic mirth

And your fancies so concur,

Crash the knit-wit blooper fair

And watch dupes misspell their names

Or auction off their heirlooms

For a spin of the Ferris wheel.

And you birthed not of haughty stock

The foregoing you should abhor-

For knowledge bears not

Fruits of condescension;

Let noblesse your foundling crowns adorn.

                                                  

By

Hope Kalé Ewusi ©

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