INSULATED (THE RE-MAKING OF JOHN GOODMAN)
Why ’twas only
’twas only yesterday
I saw John Goodman lonely
Like a solitary needle in hay
Surrounded by manly
Yet in the midst of none
"What ails thee my friend". "plenty"
" I’ll thank you, kind sir to lend me your gun"
I sat with him to hear a tale
That brought tears to his eyes
"O human nature, how frail"
he had loved a woman of ice
Who had made a plaything out of a kind man
Who finally summoned courage to ask
But, nay, he’d always be her "dear man"
In a confusing answer that took him to task
Why ’twas only this morn
’twas this cheerless morning I’m sure
I heard a haughty John Goodman say
As he a good woman scorned
The light in his eyes was long gone
Replaced by the gloomy darkness of rage
It’s over woman, begone
Your tears move me none,
Love, Bah, its for fools
And my wise heart has been schooled.
©2008 Dotun Adejuyigbe
PLAYAHATIN’ (The story of Mr. Nice)
Sometimes the babes ignore him
‘cos he’s so frighteningly cute
Dependable and honest
All those proper sounding "virtues"
They seek one after another
Their chance with the players
Who look what they are not
And what they may yet not be
Who break their hearts
"To hell babe, your tenure’s expired
Watch their mouth form O
A necessary precursor to the deluge of tears that follow
But hey whad’ya know, Mr. Nice consoles them;
‘cos no matter what he’s always there
And when its time to settle down
When suddenly like a slowly appearing
And suddenly obvious daylight
They find he’s the one
He’s gone like a wisp of smoke
Alas he’s become hardened
Another like him got a lucky break
It hurts so when they come back
In tears with their sorry tales
To good men who have always been there.
©2008 Dotun Adejuyigbe
LESSONS FROM THE WHITE NOSED DOG ON ROAD 12
I reach out
He runs
Sometimes in circles
Sometimes he comes near
but when I reach out
He runs away
On and on
We go through this everyday
Sometimes in the company of friends
He dares to venture near
But alone he’d rather back off
when i reach out to him
and sometimes he barks at me
I’m astounded
Who scarred you li’l brother
Why do you run?
What‘s so vivid in your memory
That makes you reach out
And at the point of contact let go
It is better nowadays though
with another you come
And only then can you be touched
Today I touched your head
And I was surprised you’d let me
watching warily from the corner of your eyes
my hand upon your head
But soon after,
you ran
Many a time I’ve watched
musing about the amazing parallel
between you and I
You gave me hope today
Yet you still ran afterwards
How long till you trust me?
How long till I trust?
I don’t mean to hurt you
But do you know that?
You are an enigma
And you are a playful fella
I’ve seen you play with friends
Now I’m supposed to end this all
With a fancy phrase
But the parallel is so large
In my minds eye
I sit and watch you
As we sit face to face
Pondering about life as we see it
I suppose then
That this poem will not be finished
But the story will end
Happily I pray.
©2001 Dotun Adejuyigbe
ON MY FATHER’S DEATH
It is said of Yeats I think
That
What instruments we have tell us the day he died was bleak and cold
Well then the day you died,
‘Twas a roaring storm
That shook the foundations of the entire offshore platform
And made men at sea pray to God to spare them
When an iron structure with roots in the sea bed
Waved in a cruel waltz that made the hair on your head stand
With the anemometer pirouetting in an eye boggling spin.
Yet in me I could not connect it
Till a phone call the next day to say
"Prof. don mud"
Marking my entry into another phase of existence
Some insist it was my initiation to manhood
Was it?
All I knew
As I tried to find the pictures
To understand it with
Was that
Daddy was dead.
©2001 Dotun Adejuyigbe
THE ROSE AND THE WIND
Yesterday
The rose danced with the wind
Many thought it ridiculous
What! with the restlessness of the Wind
And the placid abiding of the Rose
But O, the sight remains in my mind still
Of an improbable dream come true
For it was just a day ago
When the ubiquitous, shapeless,
Formless Wind
Together with the beautiful, shapely, scented
Stationary, thorny, Rose
Hand in hand and
Heart to heart as only they could
Yes it was yesterday
When the skies lent the moon for lights
While the stars sprinkled the earth showers of golden sparks
Then, the Rose,
Danced with the Wind.
© 2007 Dotun Adejuyigbe
The Minstrel
I come from a family of poets so you can be sure you’ll get to read a lot of poetry from my siblings on this site. However eventhough we are a family of very cool poets, this site would have poems from my friends and poems submitted by readers as well. My promises are to bring the coolest contemporary closet poets and poems out of the shadows as well as to convience the world that poetry is fun. For now, here is a poem by my brother entitled the Minstrel. I think it is perfect for the first post on this blog.
The Minstrel
In a land far away
In a time long gone
There it happened
Listen to my tale
I am a minstrel
The son of a minstrel and
Rumor has it
That my great grandfather was one
I sing then
Of tall trees in the forest
Of birds singing
Of water bubbling in the brook
So I sing then
Of a man in love
With his lady and
His music
And I sing
Of a town with few people
And fewer good people
Of a tragedy waiting to ‘appen
Of the man making the wrong choice
And his lady going to another man
Too late he realized
His music was not all
Of the burning of the village
By one so selfish
A world of luxury
Was all he wanted
Alas the poor village
Could not satisfy him
So men, women and their property
Fell to a man’s lust
Still I must sing
For the selfish man and the broken man met
The selfish for the opportunity
The broken for the consolation
To the city they went
The selfish to make money
From the music of a broken man
So broken he didn’t know nor care
Their first performance was a huge success
And the selfish man was already seeing
The wine and the women
Alas it was not to be
For the broken man
In his music heard
His own tale being told
And whatever had till then supported him
Was shattered to nothingness
No food he would eat
No water he’d drink
For as he often said
He had nothing else to live for
His friend begged him to no avail
For so soon his dream was fading away
Of wine and women
The man was dying of a broken heart
To no avail I said
For one day his friend woke up and
The man was dead
Of a poor choice and a miserable heart
I wish I had the words
To describe his pain
Or to make you feel for him
But I don’t
Listen then to my story
The son of a minstrel
The options are many
Choose right
The options are many
The paths we tread varied
Each step is a choice
To go or to turn back
Your steps go different ways
For each one of us there is a path that is right
A purpose to be fulfilled
Still I’ll say it again
Choose right
In a land far away
In a time long gone
There it happened
Listen and learn
From my sorry tale
© Adedotun Adejuyigbe (2000)
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