A poet’s quest

If humans were formed from dust, & poetry is human’s meager attempt to reveal the beautiful or sublime; the beauty of this dust from which we originated from is unsurpassed – jmf
—————–
Once a man in his quest to be poetic,
Twisted and mingled words to find
Subtle beauty in meager arrangements.

At birth of day;
When the day was ripe;
At death of day;
Even when the night’s eye
Was sleeping, he searched

His dreams. Reaped them apart;
Turned them upside down and
Scribbled their charms on memory.

Only to find hosts of
Re-arranged cliches.
Exhausted, out loud he cried.

‘Give me a drink of thesaurus, and
Cigars rolled in pages of a dictionary.
I’d be drunk with beautiful metaphors,
And be high with unusual rhymes that

Sing and dance. I’d sing along and
Sprightly dance that our voices may
Reach over vales and hills
Till my mind’s ink is drawn.

Yes! O yes, an echo on shelf
Lonely and dusty continues to sing.
On platforms or from behind silent corners,
I’d care not because, time …;
Would’ve dealt with me”.

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Rest! In our hearts

Madang Airport

Image via Wikipedia

That eagle in the heaven,
Whose two eyes are crimson;
Sent fathers over boulders!

And children’s mothers,
Into ways have parted; without
Meeting and greeting.

Ye plots of Earth;
Realm of maggots;
Thy scents are a stench!

In days unborn, use your arms;
Open again your doors. I dare!
O ye idle! Like an idol

Weeds must your doors trample!
Earthworms must their gardens be!
Ye’ll be fields that are sealed.

That neither breaths of storm,
Nor wrinkles of love, in their
Vacant rests, will distress.

Thy beds of slumber,
Where darkness is imprisoned;
They lay not; lifeless in silence

O Rest! In our hearts,
Where an eagle dare not fly;
There’ll be butterflies with lullabies

 
By: Jeffrey Febi    Wednesday, 23 2010

 

This is a piece that curses the Dash 8 aircraft that crashed in Madang and death/graves.
Then celebrates life and treasured memories that will live in the hearts of loved ones.
Death/graves can never take away precious memories and this is victory over death/graves.

Take away! This plateful! Cupful!

O fearless and ageless Prince
Conqueror of times; destroyer of many a kingdom
Absence of light is your majestic abode
Giver you are, to many a man such freedom!
And balance! To a crazy world is bestowed

 
Count the times upon you, I’ve called
For favours that emerged from my heart
Bare! I’d say, is your memory of my voice
And have I always in fear from you, part;
And tremble in reminiscence, then rejoice?

 
Do not with joy and a smirk, overlook;
O Prince of Sleep; my burdened heart!
Of your good nature, must I beg, although,
From this turmoil, certainly you’ll depart
This plateful! Cupful! This must go!

 
Seek! Wherever my heart rests, there
This plateful! Cupful! A rose without petals!
By my side, with a loud tongue; it’ll ever lay
Do not, of you I beg, hereby with it settle
Grab it! With a grip cold and be on your way

 
This plateful! Cupful! A rose without petals!
It I offer! Prince of Silence, you must know
Away from me! … In you arms must it crush
Crush it! Its odour, hide in your shadow
Then its remnants, into a wind must they rush

 
Or, This plateful! Cupful! A rose without petals!
Rusty sailless boat, on it, must it voyage south
Its journey; this journey! when and how it’ll end,
With a crimson eye, don’t inform, o shaky mouth;
Tired ears! Wailing! If they hear, will pretend

 

 

By: Jeffrey Febi 8th       Tues Nov 2011

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