Introspection Poems
Pilgrimage
by Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu
I sit, this morn, on the bed of
A dried-up rivulet,
Head-bent and full of compunction.
It’s clam-quiet except for the impatient
Squawks above which prompt my heartbeat.
I raise my head, heavy with grief.
Climbers and weevils align in a silent choir,
Singing with precision the lines of a forgotten
Mirth.
It’s 5 o’clock in the morning — a time when
......
Metamorphosis, interrupted
by Anjali Pathiyath
I sometimes dream I am a caterpillar
who forgets to grow into a butterfly.
I burrow into leaves, breaking through their delicate venation.
I funnel my uncinate feet through curling petals,
I glide through the pungent weeds of uncertainty
and hang from gossamer threads of doubt.
I sometimes dream I am a caterpillar
blending into the mossy greens growing on decaying walls,
lost in the intricate forest and counting the unseen stars,
......
Towards the Core of Silence
by Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu
Away from pesky leeches and from
Broken, sad walls,
I strive towards the centre.
Voices are hidden from fallen, spavined horses,
And echoes draped in robes of
Mutiny fly past.
The centre retains the pith of silence.
Heart-murmurs celebrate the only known
......
Eyes of the Rain
by Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu
In the face of an early morning drizzle,
On a fireside earth-throne,
I sit and summon thoughts.
The firewood, red with the suppressed anger of
Smouldering fire,
Crackles constantly
Amid the paying of wages of serenity.
Thoughts and fascination cringe
My breath now pulsated by the throbs of wanton
......
Solitude
by Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu
The cruel laughter of the soul
Laments its flagellation by time,
Ebbed on the flattened stones of
A raped river.
Sorrow, an amanuensis of silence,
Reads the minutes of the last meeting
Held within dying doors, between
Mind and soul, two warring nations
Of a proud heart,
Now asleep with bloodshot eyes.
......
Towards the Core of Silence
by Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu
Away from pesky leeches and from
Broken, sad walls,
I strive towards the centre.
Voices are hidden from fallen, spavined horses,
And echoes draped in robes of
Mutiny fly past.
The centre retains the pith of silence.
Heart-murmurs celebrate the only known
......
Eyes of the Rain
by Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu
In the face of an early morning drizzle,
On a fireside earth-throne,
I sit and summon thoughts.
The firewood, red with the suppressed anger of
Smouldering fire,
Crackles constantly
Amid the paying of wages of serenity.
Thoughts and fascination cringe
My breath now pulsated by the throbs of wanton
......
The Three of Us
by Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu
In the lonely stead, there were just the three of us:
I, me, mine
And one other who matters as little as a cuss
Taped upon pine.
The stare of the flat pupil
by Kamilla Letrai
Circularity is an overstatement.
Patterned like a Fibonacci spiral,
at the point of intersection, I warm up. Yet
the sunlight. Effortlessly. Passes through my chest.
Looking for a sign of understanding in your eyes...
The view is the empty sky. Ignoring one’s deepest prayers.
I am no stranger to beautiful, but empty sights
Dilated pupils. See them deepen, not ashore.
......
Plight of the Poet
by Christopher Kolmen
Is brevity not the soul of wit
So why then dilute the words which we spit
Is it perchance some performative urge
Some selfish ambition to a little longer be heard
What cause do we have to slight our creations
If not entitlement to our meaningless station
Am I not but a jester who wears a tin crown
Yet speaks of it as gold with the hope that my mouth is not bound
