The gourd has gone back to crumbles
Yeepa-ripa! Afingba is no more
But successive dusk tell another lore
Of how Olukoso surged up in rumbles
Hanging lifelessly on the muralist painting,
Melancholic beats spiced with lyrical dirges-
Amidst echoes,portraiture seems like mirage
A withered grass,coming to life faintly-fainting
The earth seems to cease its orbit
Within the thin confluence of life and yonder,
War fleets still rise,leaving sage in wonder
Is this moments of deja-vu,haunted by hobbit ?
Or perchance,an exemplum of caricature ?
No ! It was her,again
It was her,who died last winter writhing in pains
But now, a seamstress this summer - fracture ?
It was her... She was Idaya
Whom with a prickling face,sojourned her tomb
But with a sizzling face,rose like a bomb
It was her.. She was Akudaaya !
Akudaaya,the travelogue of the sojourners
Akudaaya,the monologue of a poet...
*©Gemini.*