Echoed Songs

Echoed Songs

Now that the rushing wind has gone
and air comes in trickles and
sumptuous snatches,
those songs come to me.
They come from the days
when my unborn daughter
young and free,
a ponytail and a plain dress,
hit the bumper of my drunk car
and watched the bumper disappear
with a throat filled with cold blood.
They come from my days with the Sirens
who made sure
that the songs that come now and came then
led my long suffering ship astray
into waters that keep the unborn

Now that the rushing waterfalls have gone
and the drop falls come in drab
but delicious drips,
those songs come to me.
They come from the days of decision
to de-ice or to freeze
and the heart lay with evaporation.
They come from the caves,
the tombs
and probably the catacombs.
They come,
they just comeā€¦singing
stomach bloated,
run, acquitted
when caught,
never get caught,
… under the sun.

Now that the fettle forests have gone
and fig trees and forget-me-nots
fire up memories of fertility,
those songs come to me.
They come in haunting garbs
and my withered hands wonder
when they played such soul damning songs.

10 thoughts on “Echoed Songs” by Ebuka (@murney_okosisi)

  1. Jo (@josephoguche)

    Memories of fertility indeed .. I loved it … nice poem.

    1. Ebuka (@murney_okosisi)

      thanks boss.

  2. …to de-ice or to freeze. I love it! And nice poem too!

  3. Hmmm. To de ice or defreeze the swimmers of fertility.
    Nice one, Murney. Loved the alliterations in the last stanza. Well done.

    1. Ebuka (@murney_okosisi)

      thanks dear

  4. Good one…I enjoyed it

    1. Ebuka (@murney_okosisi)

      thanks boss

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