YODELING IN THE GALE (An Original Poetry)
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Hope in debris,
a conquest, a total foreboding
the heart is laughing in agony
pealing and hooting in fright
a cigar, crumbling into ashes
to awaken the rise of the soot
but like owl's we will keep hooting
keeping the apocalypse at bay
like the great fall of Jerusalem
into crumbled bits and tits
We're yodeling in the gale.
like a feather fearlessly flying
in a cacophony of sweltering flame
flamboyant afloat the Nile
watching the tide, dying like smokes
in the sepulchres of the skies
we wait in the impatience
for death to smile a beautiful smile
even when we're lifeless
as the aftermath of a battlefield
we shall yodel amidst the gale.
The orange sunset shall die
the sweetest death
like a lamb caught in conflagration
our lives shall wane like a candle
nearing the darkest expiration
but with timbrels and trombones
we shall yodel in the gale
drunken in our misery
but reborn like an albatross feather
We merry even in the mire
dancing on shrapnels and scabbards
like pixies floating on mythical moorlands
hope is drowned to the bottom
but we're armed with voices
to yodel in the whirlwind
till the tornadoes is come
like a thief in the night
to sweep away the sweetness of our music.
Written & Edited
By @Josediccus
13/11/2018
Visit my blog for more amazing poems & content
JOSEPH C.IKECHUKWU
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I feel a bit ambivalent about the tone of the poem.
At some point it reads as a frank invocation to pure piousness and uncompromising faith; at others it reads as a satirical tirade at wasted hope and unrequited devotion.
It sounds as if the devastation is imminent. Nothing we do will change that. Only our attitude may sway from total despair to resignation and content at a job well done, despite the disastrous outcome.