To ears that cared to listen — Two Poems by Olaore Philip Durodola-Oloto

A Poet on Hiatus

There was once a poet,
Whose pen never failed to speak the Muse’s truth,
Nor did the Muse ever stray from the poet’s touch,
Whose fingers danced with the ballpoint,
Etching poetry on sheets of concord.

Poetry,
Of hyacinths
and biscuits.
Poetry for broken hearts,
Offering solace and enlivening the soul.
Poetry that spoke for the voiceless,
Relaying their plight,
To ears that cared to listen.
Poetry that expressed the beauty
and vicissitudes of the universe,
Immersing its audience into realms
Of diverse existence.
Until his descent into anxiety.

Anxiety of the Muse's message,
Prompting his skepticism about the audience’s perception,
and acceptance.
Anxiety that fueled mediocrity,
Torturing the poet,
Till the Muse took its leave.

Now,
He rests in his chair
Staring into oblivion,
Stranded of thoughts.
His pen rests in its case; capped.
His empty paper lies idle on the coffee table.
And he, in the convolution of his plight,
Remains unflinched,
Patiently waiting,
Silently hoping,
Wishing
that his long gone muse returns,
From obscured utopia,
And ends this long hiatus.

Celestial Being

I shall berth my ship at the ocean’s core,
Without my anchor sunk deep in its belly.
I shall reach for the Everest's peak,
and descend from thence,
With my arms open to the wind’s embrace.

I shall eat my cake and have it,
By no devious means.
I shall kill two birds with a stone;
No magic conjured.
I shall make a heap of my earnings,
And expend it on relish,
With no thought for tomorrow.

I am a celestial being,
My existence transcends the conventions of this transient world.
I need not the universe's favour to survive,
For the universe is mine to rule.