BLACK POWER by Alvin Saxon (Ojenke).

There shall be no more songs
of soft magnolias that blow
like aromatic winds through southern vales,
no more praises of daffodils chattering
the winds fluttering tune-
and no eulogies of red, red roses
that fall like blood from heavy vines.

Black Orpheus calls, his lyre piercing
the dark solitude of hadean world:
Come O Ebony-hued Eurydice, he beckons,
he shan’t look back-the lesson has
been well learned.

There have been despondent days
and long nights of insomnia-
but your voice, sweet Eurydice,
was like some Nigerian wind that
blew softly through the water willows,
your lips like manna-they were
good for my soul;
and your hands that caressed my
worn limbs like a profound unction
and when I laid my head dense with
woeful memories, on your cloud breast
I slept deep and tranquil and
the day held no insurmountable fears
for me…

Category: Love,