A poem: Picnic in the Crypt.

Hey you? What’s new with you? New shoes? New dress? New Shirt? Nothing? all join sha…

must-have

Anyways, a lot of people almost slit my neck for ending ‘ZINA’S STORY” so abruptly. i apologize. No, i din’t run out of ideas *r.m.e* But, there was no better way. To clear the doubts, i don’t know why Niyi cheated oo, why do boys cheat? *shrugs*. Then, that might very well be the end of the series, except inspiration creeps out of somewhere. The story was actually fiction. so, please, it only sounds like me because I always try to put myself in the character’s shoes. when i write about myself, you’ll know, probably because i will start with *BASED ON A TRUE LIFE STORY* like Nigerian films, lol.

To the business of the day, I have a poem for your reading pleasure. The poet is a friend of mine and a part of Horizon Inc.. The poem is really interesting as the intrigue builds up gradually. for people that don’t know how to decipher poems, you’d think the poem is weird but… yeah! it’s weird 😀 but really cool. Had goosebumps while i read through it… You can say what you think about it after reading as well… I’ve tried, here it is:

PICNIC IN THE CRYPT

I have come to your tomb

Here in my cemetery of memories

Nope, I’m not here to cry

It’s victory time

So I’m about to have a picnic

I will take a seat and salt myself

While the wind picks up and I sing

When the wind pulls hair into my eyes

I will know you are angry, but I won’t leave 

I’ll sing even louder

-I simply want to annoy you

The trees in the cemetery will howl

You have become a poltergeist

And I observe you in all your fury

Me, screwing with your eternal emotions while I sing my song and eat cake laced with sugar

 

The wind drops

I listen to owls say my name

-I’m really scared

-I’m shaking in my boots

Ha!

You still haven’t sent fire ants after me

And it’s even later

I’m still here

I miss you

I want to leave but my feet are firmly planted in sands I drenched you in

Sands I never wanted to watch you lay in

But here

In my memory

While I watch you have this last picnic

Smiling with me

Mouth filled with lies

I have buried you in a hundred times

Over and over again

All you are

Is a memory waiting to die

B.E

 

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6 thoughts on “A poem: Picnic in the Crypt.

  1. Poltergeists. I love those spirits. From a distance though, of course. Can’t have one wrecking my house.

    Okay. Figurative poem, of course. We are talking crypts, poltergeists and fire ants, but I think there is a less esoteric theme here. Some previous tryst which was once enjoyed, now a memory to be buried?

    Is this conflict within one person? Or is this some form of private purgatory, the reliving of some bittersweet experience in the mind of the writer, one which the writer enjoys revisiting to someone’s – more likely his, or her- consternation, and maybe chagrin?

    I dunno. Seriously I don’t. I can only hope the poet sheds insight into the dank crypt, that I may also peer at the sepulchres.

    Nice poem. Beautiful imagery. Wistful, too. Cheers.

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