Wednesday, September 30, 2015

POETRY ON THE HIGHWAY


The drab sameness;
The cold grey and wet screen
Of pouring dew blanketing the view
Of nature’s mysteries,
As this bus sways along
The treacherous road to Benin
Is all I see.

ON MY WAY TO AUCHI

 
On my way to Auchi
Ha! I perceive Atlas
In the frowning sky,
His back bent with weight.
Yes I did perceive the goat-faced charlatan
And I laughed.
I perceive the smoke from the burnt length
On my way to Auchi.