A BED THAT FLOATS

Do you not
                love
                         a bed that floats?
It carries you about
And you dream of travelling in fluffy skies
Lost in a hazy dreamland as Alice,
You twist and turn happily on the bed
Smiling and giggling from faraway wonderland
You touch birds and wave at the heavens
Which you can almost touch
If you should stand.

Then your bed gets soaked
And water touches your clothes
And you wonder how your floating bed
Suddenly became wet.

You wake up and see rooftops only
Shock hugs wonderment as you look around
Houses are deeply submerged in water
Mama and Papa are nowhere to be found
The flood has swallowed everything
All around is water
And
         you are
                        drifting
           about in it...
                        On a bed
                                         that floats.

Copyright Ubaji Isiaka Abubakar Eazy 2016
For the flood victims in Haiti.

Meet the Poet:

Ubaji Isiaka Abubakar Eazy holds a BA in English Language and Literary Studies. He is a fine poet whose poems and short stories have been published in both national and international journals and numerous literary blogs. He is the CHIEF EDITOR of "Literary Critics And Writers". You can reach him on +2347063369010 (Abubakar Ishaq Eazy on Facebook).

SINCE IT'S YOUR DAY

(FOR LEVA RASMUSSEN ON HER BIRTHDAY)

Since it’s your day
The day hallowed vagitamus said his say
Of acquiescence, you screeched a faint but gruff lisping
That initiated you into this world of time and fading
Realities, where you have to that tide of fortune find;
It’s God’s own temporal place for mankind.
Take these lines of love and immorality;
It endures and waxes till eternity.

Since it’s your day
The day you made no delay
But broke free from that natural encasement men
Call womb, to the trail of high achievers join-then
Like an oak tree, shed your acorns of kindness
on human; for it brings with it sufficient plentiness.
Take therefore, the poet’s offer that is at  all-times new
It defies time and space; yes even in God’s view.

LITANY IN HARD-TIMES

  
When noisome voices  of change like a pounding swell
Finally crested the land--'our own land,'
Splendors of hope beamed up with a solemn knell
Revealing the unfettered gaiety slain by our demand
Of bygone days; we revelled in joy so high and tall
But in time did they metamorphose to be the Saul
Prosecuting their foes. Now that the table is turned about
And the masses left in wanton doubt
        Lord, deliver us from their kiss of death!

Renascence of grizzled foxes dressed in angel's robes.
Obsessed with masqueraded will
And stately liss of cosied up boxes with kleptomaniac thobes
They labour to bargain away the last yam ungrill'd.
May those who feel and paint witty words
Have a field day--for sanity is maimed with no swords.
Ours is an open sore of timeless ridicule;
And even as vultures freely feed on remains unshackled,
       Lord, deliver us from their kiss of death!

Beleaguered by scourge of persistent hard times;
When the highest currency can scarce get them bread;
Youths turn to crimes for want of dimes
And school children without dread
Drop out daily for their mother's wares remained unsold.
Oh, how gag mouthed we watch while tendrils of good mold
Are seared by suckers of hardship before our very eyes!
And since they are stone-deaf to our piteous cries,
       Lord, deliver us from their kiss of death!