Written Tales

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Harmattan Blows

Harmattan is here
Harmattan is here
What a fiendish friend you are
Almost at the nick of time
You rushed in like the waves of space

Harmattan! carrier of my shame
Stealing into my horns and sundry lines
You raved!
You dared!
With brackish colors and awful stripes
Of lines
Of dry scales
Peeling slowly
The tabular sketching on my skinny legs
And my mouth’s corner …..
Ahhhhhh….. dripping blood

My dear harmattan
My real hammer blows
Winding in the winds like a spirit you are
And I spit the tasteless dry spittle
To wet the corners of my scarred lips

Hips, hips!
The leftovers of a dry sunny octave
On a dagger point
I cannot hold
And contortions of my aching body
And thirsty dry leaves
And cigarettes.


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Manngoime is a poet, a writer of some sort, a veteran journalist and a social commentator. He holds a BA Degree in English and Literature. He is outspoken on the ills of economic deprivation and political ignominy of the "well endowed" who murder and use " the left behind" in the society. He loves God.