The Prodigals
Down the drain dregs domicile dew drenched
Slivers of sorrow slit silence-sealed souls
And so it came to pass
That the pool of their hope went dry
And from the recess of the city, they are plucked
Like grains, like chaff blown to the slums
There, other walking cadavers mingled each
With his mangled history
Down the drain dregs domicile dew drenched
Slivers of sorrow slit silence-sealed souls
Houses hoisted haphazardly
Cocoon of contagious skins caged in open undercroft
Faces sepulchral, mummies from ancient crypt
Dolorous wind blew malodorous
Air from open lavatories into fleeting nostrils
Down the drain dregs domicile dew drenched
Slivers of sorrow slit silence-sealed souls
Night crawled upon wobbling, wrinkled women
Tottering homeward night sheathed
Deflated balloons flapping, pates burdened by baskets
Of unsold wares
Throes of tending tender tendrils in sun’s beak…
Down the core, drilled the taproots for morsels of hope
To be snatched by fists and callous tongues
Of bottle battered brains
Then in the heart of the capital, lodged the myth-makers
In barbed-wire domiciles
In the munitions of rocky digs, eagles on the apogee
Of the iroko, curtained by vulturous dogs and eyes
Down the drain dregs domicile dew drenched
Slivers of sorrow slit silence-sealed souls
Groping, in gaping graves, grimed faced
Fellows, fallen fabled faeries from the firmament
Frosting in fiery flames
But here again the prodigals with calabashes begging
For the nodding of our thumbs!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem