Tuesday, 14 July 2009


by Charles Popoola

groaning of a sorrow
Shredded veins
Pierced by this arrow
That causes pain.

Endless pain
Grinded heart

Please, drill out not that arrow
Lest a fainting soul
gush out her marrow

Arrow of sting
Rust a soul

An arrow of deceit
One more of contempt
love is shot
In the darkness of trust
In the garden of ITS serenity

Wildered Darkness
When only lovers walk
in her deafening silence
the unstrained hears
words of a whispering wind
and if only one had learnt
The language of the wind…

A whisper of what become
A warning of what to come
First of lamentation
the lament of Damnation
the later of gloom
at dawn to fathom

Now let a pierced soul
Bleed to its sole grave
For a wounded heart
Knows no more grace.

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