Posted in Poetry

Circles and cycles

By Noel Ihebuzor

 

Eyes buried deep in hollow round sockets,

the sagging sack of bones speak for bodies

clothed in loose fitting tired plastic skin buckets

drooping like tired jute bags, brown, crumpling floppies

 

Buttocks shrivelled and feet

Swollen ungainly, dragging weeping frame around in now ending cycles

the circling flies, whirling after twirling running tummies meet

mums in panic, running around dazed in dizzying circles

holding on to and hoping, slowly hopes withering

yet stubbornly clutching to withered hopes, wilting and dithering 

 

Close by, on well manicured lawns, watered

tenderly by cycling swinging sprayers,

in circles of encircling and overflowing affluence

Pastors, prophets, politicians co-habit

preach, pray, praise, and pontificate

in voluminous waffle, clogging spaces with sterile volubility,

consciences clogged, hard hearts twisted,

greed terraced mindscapes and bodyscapes, carousing

in convoluted cavorting

 

Waste dances indecent

in the wining and dining,

want swells, ballooning

sweeping fragile frames and staggering souls

their mother whining,

along to painful grinding end points

 

a procession preceded by a small wooden box

announces the end of one cycle,

the prolongation of the circle,

the festering sore enlarges

speaking the language of a cycle of infamy

and a dooming narrowing circle

closing in on the undying hope of mothers with dying children

their throats and lives throttled by the plump hands

of greed, callous, grabbing and choking