OPWONYA JOEL ONEN Poems

'How much do you love me? '
'Have you seen the milky ways, ' I asked
'How much do you love me! ', she asked angrily
'Having seen them, that's how much
...

If loving you is a flight, we would be
Butterflies

For I can't kiss air without a heart
...

As my brain washes the blossoms
My night kindled the portion
Negating the demise of dawn
On a night walk to the towns
...

She sits on the couch and read the solfa
She strikes the keys in melody that
Blazes sparkle in unity
As though she teaches her mother
...

As usual to my muscles, a break burn deep in my love router. in the morning sipping coffee and bitting slices of bread. I reach out for a reward of love shown on your face. the wavy hair your head grows ripe my weary jungle. as they seem a real love, I nod for more in the morning. peeping to the reflection in our eyes, mingling our fingers, toasting cups, freezing in the mist, enjoying crisp of the rain rippling on the coarse glass window. We make love like kites and air, like rain and thunder, like tooth paste and brush, like coffee and love. like morning and dawn, birds and song, king and crown, day and night, peace and unity.... Sweetheart, in Acoli we say 'Ocok man ki bye ne' meaning 'Each wild pepper with his own anthill (problem) as a sign of romantic partnership glued
...

Back in those days, in the dust of creation
When larks sings, owls give instrumentals and parrots raps
Man live naked and didn't sinned rather live
Back in the days of no schools, phones or money
...

Pants are just like a watch man on night shift patrol
When crystal of dews spewed over a cold heart,
Because mornings comes with hot winds flying through the neighborhoods
You always dread bad luck to my dreams and visions
...

I overslept on emotional theory
That dated me into nationalistic gravamen
When thoughts on self was a ditch of evil phenomena
'A bird in the hand is worth battle for the one in the jungle, ' Christine my mother told me one evening
...

Today, my morning is shining. my hours
walking. my work output of yesterday is buried. and it is reminding me something. something you don't know, something about today.
That I should go on rolling the sun to reach dusk. That my today should bear journals archived in souls of hard work. So I welcome my today in another style like a coming rain and blessing. on the Earth of mine; to live in with peace, love, respect and unity on ecology
...

Dusk drained my tears to rest lonely
As I waited for my soul to mitigate pain
July seems a month of frustration
That my feeling is vastly plain
...