The Poetry Marathon

Choices planted

Hunt your existence

Haunt your sleep

Harvest your feather

Choices deracinated

Deny your greatness

Decimate your strength

Declare your death

As Godin wrote,

in his note:

finally, realise that you are

In a powerful position

And use that power

To do the right thing,

To tell the whole truth

And to spread ideas

Worth spreading (Seth Godin, All Marketers Tell Stories  – 2009)

.

Things hath no holidays

Things hath no holidays

Things hath no holidays

All of us are

If you dare

You’d end without a care

Love is not in things

Love is not in things

Love is not in things

Had they known

It’d have shown

In what they sworn

Things hath no holidays

Love is not in things

Otherwise

You’d compromise

Waiting for the day to unfurl

Waiting for the moon to serenade

Waiting for the boon to overwhelm

With heart in overdrive

Waiting for the day my expectations to usher

Waiting for the seed to shelter

Waiting for the rain to splatter

With joy incomparable

Waiting for the unborn

Waiting for the unwed

Waiting for the unseen

With drumbeat and Atilogu

Aha, joy in the unseen, All

Joy in life utmost!

Now in the company of you with aesthetic odour

And smart angles in white robes

Hammock and syringe glued to you

Chalk travelling in your in

Never had the slate to collect memories of you

Never thought of you as a mortal

Never seen you this irrelevant

Never seen you this incoherent

Never seen you this incompetent

River drenched my robe

Sun went on strike

Pa, would have ironed my robe

The garage had prints of you

Your leaves had imprints of you

Perched on a bamboo you read to an embryo version of me

Pa, the wardrobe oozed your aroma

Your onion wafted through the air and sting

Learning ceased because you have seized

Life quit for you are quick

To disembark the train

Somehow,

I know this egg will walk

This caterpillar will fly

How

I do not know

Pa, I know this is not the end

My heart skips a beat.

It does so every time I am preparing for a big event.  Like the 2020 Poetry Marathon.

I have a perfect understanding of how my heart behaves. It skips a beat. It is its way of telling me it is ready for the big event, that it is in perfect harmony with my body, that it cannot fail me, that it will not fail me, that it is with me all the way, every step.

It is true all the time.

That was why I completed the 24-hour marathon. I did not stop because my heart did not stop. I went all the way because my heart usually calms whenever the heat is on and the stake is high. I know it. It knows me. We are partners. Can two partners work together unless they are in perfect harmony?

No.

That is why my heart skips again.

My heart is aware that another big event is here. The 2021 Poetry Marathon. It understands what it must do to get me ready, to get me to the edge, to push me to the precipice and not leave my hands. It understands its job description completely and I have learnt how to get out of its way, focus on the job at hand and let it handle its own beat.

That way, the two partners will accomplish much more than is expected. It works.

Every time.

I know it.

So, with this sound understanding, my heart is calm now. It will help me to stay calm and rest and sleep soundly. Preparation for such a big event as this is a big event for my heart. It needs to rest. Once it is well rested, it can overcome any challenge, surmount any hurdle, climb any mountain and hit the summit.

Rest is paramount in my preparation. Once I am rested, I can think. Once I can think, my heart is saved in its cocoon. It has been like that with the two of us. That is, my heart and I.

I recall my first day in the newsroom as a cub reporter. The first assignment was an accident. A lorry and a car collided. My assignment was simple. Report what has happened. My heart skipped a beat. But without skipping a beat, I got the job done. I did not report the accident as news. I reported the news behind the accident. I won the affection of my editor. I have earned my by-line. I made some friends. And some enemies, too, you know what I mean?

That was the beginning of my love affair with the news business and features writing and other forms of writing.

Then, my heart rejoiced.

My heart is rejoicing.

My heart is excited. That is when it skips a beat. Skipping a beat is its way of telling me, “Bro, I will not leave you nor forsake you”. That statement is reassuring.

So, when my eyes are closed and I have rested enough, we will continue from where we started.

That is where my heart beat again.

Your innate ability to perceive tomorrow and clearly predict it

So that friends and family are guided and led aright

Often times this has led you to the summit

It is a gift.

Once, you have averted a plane crash that would have erased entire family

Another time, a two-storey building would have been razed to the ground

And lives and property would not have been found

It is a gift.

Even, if friends had poohpoohed your gift

The day you provided them with a lift

By predicting exact examinations questions cannot be forgotten

That, too, is a gift.

People are different all the time and I hope you are better than most of them

Love them

Massage them

Pamper them

Calm them

They are not satisfied and they treat you as footmat

Understanding people is a difficult game to master and since I will never meet you

Even though I like you

I can only do one thing: Hope

I will take a leisurely stroll by the sidewalk

And drink in the site of machinery idling in the construction ground as I walk

The wired fence of the site is no barrier to my walk

I am prepared to enjoy the journey; that is why I am dressed for this walk

In fact, it is what the doctor recommended for my heart

Since life does not consist of what you eat or drink

I have always longed

to help others

to be light in the dark

to illuminate the park

to be the head

to move ahead

to be heard as an acclaimed published author

Those are my longings

A youth was shot dead by a policeman in cold blood

Other youths raged!

Demanding for justice!

The street stood still for its fallen hero

Tears flowed freely

Sadly

Followed by a candlelit procession led by over a thousand youths