LINES AND VERSES

When I was a little boy I thought my father was big I thought my father was strong And when he stood like a mountain over me Ricochets of his voice hitting me from the walls The world would lose all hiding places Was she his conspirator? Was she my savior? My mother, she would silently look on The first day I disagreed with him I remember the way he rose Raised his hand and then quietly receded I looked down at him Felt my strength so strong And I watched him walk away in a silent concession Now I look down at my little boy And wonder how long it would be When he looks back down at me 2011© Jude Ifeme Subscribe to POETICALLY SPOKEN by Email

If you walk past the white stonewall Push back the quiet gate, through the rows of tombs, Immerse yourself in the dead silence You’ll for a moment fear – for your breath Might ruffle the still observing trees or disturb the dead, You might feel a sudden rush to sob, pray – give your honor To unfulfilled dreams now mere inscriptions on cold slabs, To the bones and rotten remains that once carried Intelligence; emotions, faith, aspirations! You’d realize that life itself is an honor only to the conscious, That breath is a gift and that man is but a bundle of dreams And that the graveyard is not for lifeless remains, but halted dreams. 2011©Jude Ifeme Subscribe to POETICALLY SPOKEN by Email