WAR ON THE LOOM (An Original Poetry)

IMAGE SOURCE; Pixabay stock 1

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The mountains utter whispers to the trees
the flower's tittle-tattle to the leaves
a tempest looms, and the heart does shudder
leaving the forest monkeys chattering
of a beautiful conflagration
that will douse raffia homes
whilst juveniles in the street, roams
and leave smoking embers
travelling to the comfort of the skies

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Bullets are kissing the skin's softness
poking them open like a floret's awakening
thudding in several scattered sequences
like a mass funeral of giant caterpillars
xylophones sounds in lonely places
eerie crunchiness in the grassy fossil
where dreams and aspirations were slain
limbs scattered like halloween's coming
burnt chars littering the conscience
of those at the end of smoking bayonet.

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The cooking stew is still to brew
the scarlet sun tenderly weeps
weeps tiny crimson drizzling
like frozen blood crumbs in the Himalayans
we're awake yet in a gnashing battlefield
waiting for nature to devour rotten bodies
there is a bloody war, crippling my sanity
in the mind's offing
where the future you crave is possible
in the forlorn state of my facade

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These games of swords and spear
is filled with virtual soldiers
looking for honourable demise
there's war on the loom
and the smelling of valiant uproar
is like a traveling sword
that dances sweetly into my heart
the perceptions murders the true reality
of obeche trees and rose mary shrubs
crunched under the boots of imminent soldiers.

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IMAGE SOURCE; Pixabay stock 2

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Written & Edited

By @Josediccus

17/10/2018

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Visit my blog for more amazing poems & content

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JOSEPH C.IKECHUKWU

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