I am standing naked at ease
bathed, by the light of the full moon;
great brilliant orb of the heavens
waves of crystal clear cold light shedding
into cloudless clear blue sky.
Yeah, even the cripple would dance
on nights such as this
moon goddess a-sail in all her splendour
her sea a deep dark blue sky
studded and twinkling with stars
those the full light not whelming.
Noise of the city’s far off
muted at peace by night’s presence
all around me the moon bathes
cold brilliant warmth of moony cosset
Far and near a night flyer crosses
shadow silent reflecting the moon
one dog, another share howls
remembrance now of wilder hunting days
side by side with man in jungles here
The moon is a-sail tonight
bright and clear and sharp, full sail ahead-
the night softens the light
and calm’s settled on earth
The moon is full, the moon is full,
Oh, heaven on earth,-
the moon sails the night on full.
©GayUganda 23 Jan. 08
Straight off the press. Still warm with their press.
gug
4 comments:
Yeah, even the cripple would dance?
whelming?
Noise of the city’s?
Strange words and a touch old fashioned...for modern Africa.
Hello poet,
welcome.
Who said I was not old fashioned? I am. Truly old fashioned.
And of course English is my second or third language. I forget which.
Err, is Africa modern?
(I cringe at this), didnt you hear that we do eat innocent children's heart to influence the course of battles?
Cripple dancing? Chinua Achebe, read him long time ago. The book was Things fall Apart. dont know why I still remember that imagery, but I must confess to having picked it from there.
And,
brother, or sister, you honour me, calling me a poet.
I dont think I deserve that accolade. Does putting a few words together make a poet? Certainly not.
But thanks, all the same.
gug
African literature is modern, has moved beyond Shelley, though the novel tends to be more advanced than poetry. Would not have seen any Achebe influence in this. The poetry is definitely not Nigerian in tone, neither Achebe, nor Okri, nor Okigbo. nor Kongi. The poem is more steeped in the Romantic tradition of colonial poetry. Some nice touches. If not a poet, then what are you?
I wouldnt know that much about African poetry. Or literature.
Once upon a time, in class, read Chinua Achebe 'Things Fall Apart'. Thats the extent of my acquitance with him.
I dont know the cartegories, and boxes, and the allowed prejudices,and those which are not allowed.
I dont know....
Hell, I am an ignoramus. In literature.
Do I need to know all these to write?
If not a poet, what am I? Do I need to be anything?
No big deal. I will not define myself. Nor will I seek to define myself. You are welcome to do that, I sincerely do not have a wish to do the definition.
I write what I can, what comes to mind. I dont want to classify it, or cartegorise it, or define it. At least not now. I dont need to. Do I have to?
gug
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