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POETRY OF OLUTAYO K. OSUNSANPOETRY OF OLUTAYO K. OSUNSAN

Aids Orphans Promise I Have
Rebellion of the Teaspoon Poet Autumn Comes Seduced
The Heart Like a Dream The Day You Were Born
Light It Up Promise The Letter
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Aids Orphans

Pack up the house, empty the accounts and auction all the children.
Tell them their father is no more, tell them he is dead.
Their heritage is the memories they cling to and the stories he told.
Let life be drained of everything, but sorrow. Deep heavy sorrow.

Their mother walks blindly into the future, hallow and fading,
Her days are numbered like certain famine after a poor harvest.
Soon her cries will be no more and all that will be left is silence.

Silence. Pure silence.

Silence like an eternity on a charcoal stove. Burning.

First the smell of human flesh, then the squealing of her spirit.

To the children, it’s a nasty cut that can never heal. A cut that can kill.







Promise

Promise me you will meet me there, on the lonely road that leads to the tree by the river where we first met.

Promise me you will wear the green lace that reminds me of the meadow under the lilac sky in which we first danced.

Promise me you will wave when you reach the top of the hill, the way you always do on Friday evenings at my return.

Promise me you will smile when I hold your hand one more time as though we are walking down the isle.

Promise me that you will promise never to forget how much I love you.

Promise me you will wait, even though you don’t really have to.

Promise you will always remember us dancing.

Promise you will never forget me.

Please promise me.

 





 

I Have

I have seen His face and touched His hands
And I know my Redeemer lives.

I have heard His voice and walked in His steps
And now I know that Salvation is here.

I have His Spirit and I am heading for the Kingdom
And I now know I am an heir with Christ.

I have the Kingdom in my heart,
Glory on my head and eternity in my soul.

   





 

Rebellion of the Teaspoon Poet

Coffee, very black, not filtered is his choice.

Coffee strained pockets of dreams
And a teaspoon full of talent.

Up late till 2:30 am. Nothing, not even a drop.
Waiting for the muse. She never showed.

Searching the streets at awkward hours for her.
Maybe she offers night flowers. He’ll pay for them.

At first his family thought he was joking. Poetry?
The rebellious son of a poor man was final. A Poet!

Repent of your ways and get a real talent. A real one

   





 

Autumn Comes

3 She always cries
2 When autumn comes to a close
1 He leaves her alone

   





 

Seduced

3 Autumn sets her gaze
2 To undress the distant trees
1 Seduced by her voice
   





 

The Heart

3 The heart is a house
2 Filled with restless hours
1 A house wife cleaning

   





 

Like a Dream

Wrote a love letter
With the sad light of the moon
It was like a dream







The Day You Were Born
(to Bethel)

The day you were born, I saw you.
Crimson like a wild flower yet to bloom,
Your white cry scrapped the silence like a mute TV.

Naked and plump, you stretched your translucent hands
Filled with blue veins to capture invisible cords.

Your eyes shut in the light and still you blossomed
Like the radiance of the early sun, making every face beam.

My voice absorbed your bleached cry as you clinged to my thumb,
With gentle pulses you shined on my silhouette like daylight.

I stared at your mother’s eyes, because I thought you had stolen them,
The same way you stole my gaze and affection from the moment I saw you.







 

Light It Up

Light it up;

Set it on fire
Let it take you higher
Till you are up on the wire
Hanging by your chimney neck
With your cool life a massive wreck
And an expensive habit too late to check

Remember to smile like a star
Always share what you got at the bar
And never ever talk about its miserable scar.

 





 

Promise

Promise me you will meet me there.
On the lonely road that leads to the tree by the river where we first met.
Promise me you will wear the green lace that reminds me of the meadow under the lilac sky in which we first danced.
Promise me you will wave when you reach the top of the hill. The way you always do on Friday evenings at my return.
Promise me you will smile when I hold your hand one more time as though we are walking down the isle.
Promise me that you will promise never to forget how much I love you.
Promise me you will wait, even though you don’t really have to.
Promise you will always remember us dancing.
Promise you will never forget me.
Please promise me.
Just promise.

 





 

The Letter

My love,

Your words are wonders; they speak kindly like the embrace of the sun on a chilled winter morning. They find me every second of my day like fresh ink on paper.
They remind me that I belong in your kind arms, calm like the rocking of the waves wishing the shores well.
Everyday I linger from your presence; I reaffirm my resolve that you are the only one for me.
I will always be lost if we are not together like the interlocking halves of a cola nut.
I hear your voice at dusk and see your face in every thought, but like mist or a dream at dawn, it evaporates before I can reach it.
I am sick with love, blue with sadness and grey with depression; I wish time would pause that I can steal a sigh from this despair.
I wish my memory would dry up like a riverbed at the peak of a heartless drought so that I can forget you and for once smile at the sky with a complete life.
But I really wish you would read these frail words plucked from the gardens of my despair, in the autumn of my life and polished with the finest of hopes that you might once again reconsider the love you once felt for me.

 



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