Agholor Leonard Obiaderi

TWO POEMS

SOUND PORES

Invisible,
but you hear it
when a glass cup
falls, shattering into several
small planets.

When a child screams;
in the darkness of sleep,
nightmares dancing shadows on
the ceiling.

Not there when you step
into a cool grove, all the
birds silent, not even
cicadas chirping.

Sounds echo in
the pores of my skin,
a crescendo against the
ecstatic cloth of my eardrum .

The radio lulls me to
sleep for
the nightingale to pour
throatfuls of song at
my window come dawn.

If I fail to wake up
to the sun’s rays wrapped
in gold leaf.

Then know that  I’m gone .
The sound eventually
left my pores..

FROM  GENERATION  TO  GENERATION

Each season stoked
new embers, the rising
smoke took the shape

of question marks
then the blood-red
queries like blossoms in  spring. See their long tails of

anxiety. Ship-building and
coal mining died like dreams
at the dawn of shocked
eyelids.

The winter generation asked;
Will we get jobs while
everyone else is on strike?

Then the World Wars
marched in with jackboots:
Would you conscript or dodge ?

Fifty years of summer.
Youth gangs for drugs;
rock and roll.
Will the good life end
with the Beatles’s love song?

Autumn’s robe of pessimism
followed  the next generation’s
query: Did you see the
victims of safe sex and HIV?

White of face, winter
returned: Is there a link
between the Phobia Y2K
and our unemployed smiles?

Questions chased each
generation. The seasons
redefined themselves in endless
snow , dry leaves and sprouting
buds.

Agholor Leonard Obiaderi lives in Delta State, Nigeria. He holds a Bachelor’s degree in the English Language. He loves crime novels. His poems have been published in Big River Review and Storm Cycle Anthology published by Kindofahurricane Press.

E-mail:  obiaderi@yahoo.com