Invocations at dusk
Imprisoned in the Coconut husk;
Thousand cowries in a Calabash,
Stolen off the souls
Of the imprisoned.
Rains of Abracadabra
Plummeting on the
Gourd followed by slimy spits;
Chantings of the bloodeyed elders
Invoking the shieldless souls.
Beaded legs twirling
To frantic drum beats.
Red, black and Darkness dominated;
Unknown to me where I lay,
Snoring deep in my sleep.
That Which I Am, That Which They Are
They hover over my head
Like a vulture hovering
Over a caged carcass.
I hear their whispers- reverberating,
And their curses turning goodness
Unto me which they are ignorant of
I become a porcupine
Against their hands, but they know not.
Their towering heights scare me not;
Taller I am with my smallish-
My embers burning without their sweat,
And their gas lit without my aid
That which they are, their luck;
The almond nut, or
The glimmering ruby of the king’s crown.
That which I am, my chance,
A stand of the straw fiber,
Or a string of the Jews harp
Let them weave their mats
Under a bamboo, while I weave mine
Under the Iroko tree and the rain beats us
Our luck it is
Abdulkareem Abdulkareem is a Kwara-based Nigerian writer. He is an undergraduate of the University of Ilorin, Ilorin, Nigeria studying Linguistics and Nigerian Languages. He is fondly called Panini among friends. Apart from reading and writing poetry, he is an avid reader. He writes from the ancient city of Ilorin. He tweets @panini500bc.