a poem by Oredola Olamilekan Ibrahim, Nigeria

On that cool-dried everestic mount the Cantor cries
Of the passing hour, days, weeks and month of a year that dies
Cries of the mysterious yolk of time a new year born
Wrapped in a loin, an abstract loin from the dying year forlorn
Now the memories of yesteryear slowly dripping off
Like drops of water, into the dreams of thinking trough
The year makes her lasting ride on her winged chariot's ride
Of the Phoebus' cart,the golden horse, the counters bide.
Aloud the Cantor cries of the abstract transition in monstrance
Sending this year into memories of the chazzan's trance
Ushering the childish eagerness of the coming year
Mounds constituting Yolks in the destitute of a drying tear
The shadow of the dying creeping calmly into thoughts
From the young Aries taut to the Ember months
Filled with events of counting pros and cons
That's never been expressed by any emoticons
Like an evening's tale the year's coming to an end
Like the evening fire indeed coming to a quench.

Immeasurable gulps down the throat of mother earth
Her children junk's souls drowned in six feet girth
Of many that goes by crash, wreck, road assault...
And people who just bid the world by merely somersault
Millions of mouths opens to the empty miserable air
Greater number with bones and nerves their fearful scare
A lifetime fortune in ruins cause of an atomic-minute folly
Rooted in a character you would called a "carefree"
And the nature's ruthless war against the living beings
Earth quakes, Tornadoes, the very nasty things
Cyclones, Avalanches, Blizzards, Famines, flood
Tsunamis, Volcanoes is really a headache God!
War,contention,conflict and hostility the year really rounds
Militancy and terrorism have really know no bound!
Corruption,gerrymandering,decadence, malfeasance-
Had heard enough of these troops nuisance.
Like an evening's tale the year's coming to an end
Like the evening fire indeed coming to a quench.

Amidst the odds still abounds great merging joy
Of many barrens indeed bearing girls and boy
Fortunes raised really in a million's fold
In big mansions many that have been in cold
Many necks adorned with the scholar robes
Nudes now having a graceful wardrobes
Many blacks and whites at the alter bow
Solemnized into a shinning hearty glow
The Ironic trend keeps striding high
As the fields corn keeps straightening by
Nations in the mood of joyous thrill
Celebrations of independence will
Lovers cling hand in hand at rendezvous
Whispering in each others ear...cooling words
Still Joyous moments we have in you
You the dying one and next year's clue
Like an evening's tale the year's coming to an end
Like the evening fire indeed coming to a quench.

Now together we all stand by your grave
Bidding you eternal farewell indeed in a rave
Dancing and joy abound in every room
Cause you are going to the catacomb of Rome
Verily now the streets are full with people in perks
As we shoot your last cannon of the fireworks
It's some hour to your final time demise
As we can hear your silent Nunc Dimittis
Adieu, adieu, adieu Mr. Year twenty ten
Goodbye in your last track of a new year turn
Now we bury you into the eternal extinction
As our minds are busy with resolutions
The great timely Cantor's crying the last
As an old year going in a graving blast
Glory to the ageless divine word in high
For making our souls at last to really sigh
Like an evening's tale the year's coming to an end
Like the evening fire indeed coming to a quench

*KADDISH - mourners' song

*everestic - high

*phoebus cart (sun)- denoting time

*chazzan - cantor

*Nunc Dimittis - A Christian canticle or hymn using the words of Simeon in Luke 2:29-32, beginning "Nunc dimittis servum tuum" ("Now lettest thou thy servant depart").

Top Viewed Not Categorized Poems & Top Viewed Poems

Other poems from Oredola Olamilekan Ibrahim, Nigeria

If you like this poem, post a message below to the poet!


Viewed 1032 times

VoicesNet Likes