Showing posts from March, 2013

The Past

So, I let my past flow down That path where yester-things Restively stay; waiting, perhaps, In glories, or rues - Like moon and flame differ by Feel. So, I treasure nothing like this moment That I Know; its potent and flaw, I know I must own. Joy is a gift, pain a gift. And the drab in-between - That, too a gift. Until a moment goes by And gone, we never can tell What it could have been. Until a moment isall but gone We sometimes don't know We could have made it be. So, I walk my conscience down The river, and let my soul renew It's craving and never letting the past come diving. © Jude Ifeme

The Quarry Behind

Some things are eating up the  rock In my backyard – Boom! Boom! Boom! One smashes it into a thousand  boulders, Another chews them up in a  metallic furry; Churns them out in a billion tiny  fragments – The rock slouches like a giant  caterpillar, Perhaps agonizing, perhaps  oblivious… Amid ashy haze in the gaze of  sunshine, metal CATs and Monstrous open-backs pick a  thing From where it belongs and  down to where it doesn’t While nature’s beauty  is ceaselessly marred. ©Jude Ifeme     Subscribe to POETICALLY SPOKEN by Email