There Was A Time I Wish It Be A Time… - Poem by GIDEON BORE
There was a time when at even-sunset
I strode the sandy beach stepping mesmerized
At the silhouetted corals glittering,
And the sea breeze oozed out nowhere, rhythmically
With whirling tide lapping the gauged raged walls.
Far in the west down went dazzling rays
Like red hot dome submerging into the deep-blues.
Songs of the shores ravens mingled the lapping tunes
That bathed protruding coral boulders.
Alas, I saw paired doves merrily dash
Past barren fields to the far west,
And flapping towards their nightly warmth in tow
Too, cooing….their love dirge in repose.
I sought a quite hill above stretch lush
So I could see far west remorseful,
Longing for the hey-days when a song was love.
O, I only wish I could weep a moment, albeit intrinsically,
For men conceal their sundry tears;
But tears of love, deep from the sodden heart?
I only wish I could weep just a moment,
For last night I heard your voice;
The words you soothingly, calmly spoke to me
When I called upon you amid suspicious eyes watching
And flirting colleagues watch with glee,
As quite I gaze at you; subdued by your presence,
Without a word I had dared to utter.
Tell me, O daughter of the lake,
By the lake side are buried dirges sweet;
When Nyar Okombo, aha, Alego was a little girl
Lulled her a sleep and the lake roared about
The winds gushed from the empty lands.
Shall I go to loiter by the marshy shores
To learn the ancient ghostly rhythms,
left by your Ancestors?
Or learn the strange rhythms emanating grieved whirls?
Or to search the tunes, I think gods of Ramogi,
In the deep, appeased the roving winds to calm?
Yes, angry winds from distant Migingo flew,
For there was a song: a dirge of peace,
Oh, sweet were the dirges for waking dreams
I could sing to you when time and life,
Moves lazily along; and,
O Daughter, give me a smile;
For like the winds a dirge you need,
A dirge lost in my dreams.
In a day time dreams, there is remorse in it,
Oh, you ‘ill love to have a nap beside groans
Or grumbling volcanoes on the nostalgic soul;
You ill long for home to sit beside warm cinders
With tender thoughts and feelings strong
Writhing in the vapid untickling hours away;
And slowly beneath shadows in the light-flecked space
You ghostly walk, o daughter of the lake
Darting like a pretty bird from place to place.
But now, no word nor a song nor a soothing tonic
So to call out your passions sunken.
I’d fetch out magic words, graceful calls
Perhaps like strumming skin strings of Nyatiti,
Your grad-pa played in his Simba to appease
With solemn piety wrapped in Tholuo folklores-
gods of Ramogi,
And you know what? A riddle was revealed:
The secret springs where Ngege and Mbuta abounds.
Nevertheless, never shall I wonder
In the desert savour without,
Passionate thrills leading to nuptials.
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