Poem by Sochukwu Ivye
Driven snow, when sad clouds close over me and dark skies drop to colour my earth black, you lure my journey home: you heed my plea. As the key that opens doors bears the knack, I concede that your charm lulls my fell breast. So, like a sandboy, my doubts are addressed. Sparks in your eyes fill my heart with wishes. The light of dawn, are those the fallen stars? For deep night songs lull my rest with kisses. O virgin who spins, were deathlessness ours! Famed grace, charm with a moony character, won't this spell keep my soul here and after? Bright smile of the morn, island of the moon. Lamp borne high to lead to the sacred truth, lighten my piqued sky with the torch of noon and guide my youthful heart across its route. O strength wooed, winning gentler victories, such that put spirits through their mysteries. Dearie loved, I mean not to drive both ways but cook up words digested with the strings on a sheet of flat worth, singing your praise. Sealed with a kind kiss, for the love it brings, approve my words with more or less delight, O princess born with the morning first light. Spring flower, image worth a million words: the stroke of His quill, not can time wilt you, nor omens from the observed flight of birds; nor practice smudge your otherworldly hue. Suffused with warmth, consecrated with oil, swing with joy, sought-after fruit of our soil. Oh birth that brought a three-piece kola nut, the waist that nursed you, I'd hero-worship. Except my lips, my eyelids aren't sewn shut, nor while it might seem I heed less or sleep. Touch my brow, and the cross I'll only bear. Kiss my shoulder; the mark, I'll always wear.
Sochukwu Ivye, an adherent to metrical poetry, is particularly interested in Language (as opposed to Literature) topics. He hails from Isseke in Eastern Nigeria.