Hassan Musa (Stellenbosch University, South Africa
DIRGE TO A CERTAIN WOMAN
Ding, dong, ding, dong,
The death call was gone
Ringing so soundly into her eardrums
Up she flew to the world in front of everyone
Up she moved into eternity
It was indeed a certain call that no one can resist
A call that rouse the heart to pump its last
Thus the clots closed and all the sinews grew still,
Her day is done,
Again, carried so urgently on the winds of the morning,
No one could reverse divine bids
So we all must give way to it,
It lingers though not as a dreadful apparition
But still the image and sonorous voice of a certain woman,
Her voice is heard from the recesses beneath the Alamo in San Antonio, Texas,
Blowing through the air of Washington into the garrisoned walls of the White House
Greetings the awesome beauties of Birmingham;
Her lines are read
From the large floral gardens of New Delhi to the swaying cedars of Lebanon,
From the thickets of the Amazon to the sleeping grass of Africa,
Words alone cannot tell the simple tale of her sleep,
She lingers still in memory like an unwilling traded slave,
She lingers yet around the walls of our minds
Perfuming stinking thoughts with delightful words like the darling buds of May,
Thus we only tell Maya’s May Day with a sigh
As a dirge to a certain woman.
(Hassan Musa, 28th May, 2014. In memory of the passing of Maya Angelou, A renowned American poet from the mid-20th Century)
REST IN PEACE,MAYA! The sky went blue and the rains came down. It was the smell of a season passing by. The stars ardoned the earth and the night is standing by. One cannot but imagine the circle is over. As the sound thundered,so will the light sparkles. Though the sun keeps smiling,but the moon never frowns. Maya was a renowned poet,the hero of a denounced boet. She was an icon of the 21st century,worth morethan an expensive mercury. Maya has answered the call of nature,but her picture and lecture will structure the texture of our culture in times to come. Adieu Maya! Though you're gone,but your legacy lives on. Rest in Peace,MAYA ANGELOU! (Okemhe Musa-Katsina 29th May 2014. In memory of Maya Angelou)
May 29, 2014 at 6:19 pm |
Hassan Musa (Stellenbosch University, South Africa)
MY DREAM
My dream was not a walking shadow gliding passing silhouette in the night
My dream was not a linear iron line
My dream was not a fanciful image of life and beauty
My dream was not a flat cake within the warmest tea cup,
My dream was not a single piece of parcel full of jewelry.
My dream was a life full of hope,
My dream was a home full of laugher
My dream was a street full of life, light and dancing,
My dream was a smile of love and equity,
My dream was night brightly shining within its dark recesses with homely safety,
My dream was what I thought of in the middle of the night,
My dream was what I wrote in the bright pages of my papers,
My dream was the meaning of the words that my voices dress,
My dream was the subject I taught and talked of with delighted friends,
My dream was the vision I sought to share, sell or trade with friend and foe alike,
My dream was the possibility I saw and delightfully welcome
My dream is now what I see come to pass.
(In memory of Maya Angleou, American Poet, A Woman of Words)
May 30, 2014 at 6:28 am |
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Sad day for millions of Americans.
DIRGE TO A CERTAIN WOMAN
Ding, dong, ding, dong,
The death call was gone
Ringing so soundly into her eardrums
Up she flew to the world in front of everyone
Up she moved into eternity
It was indeed a certain call that no one can resist
A call that rouse the heart to pump its last
Thus the clots closed and all the sinews grew still,
Her day is done,
Again, carried so urgently on the winds of the morning,
No one could reverse divine bids
So we all must give way to it,
It lingers though not as a dreadful apparition
But still the image and sonorous voice of a certain woman,
Her voice is heard from the recesses beneath the Alamo in San Antonio, Texas,
Blowing through the air of Washington into the garrisoned walls of the White House
Greetings the awesome beauties of Birmingham;
Her lines are read
From the large floral gardens of New Delhi to the swaying cedars of Lebanon,
From the thickets of the Amazon to the sleeping grass of Africa,
Words alone cannot tell the simple tale of her sleep,
She lingers still in memory like an unwilling traded slave,
She lingers yet around the walls of our minds
Perfuming stinking thoughts with delightful words like the darling buds of May,
Thus we only tell Maya’s May Day with a sigh
As a dirge to a certain woman.
(Hassan Musa, 28th May, 2014. In memory of the passing of Maya Angelou, A renowned American poet from the mid-20th Century)
REST IN PEACE,MAYA! The sky went blue and the rains came down. It was the smell of a season passing by. The stars ardoned the earth and the night is standing by. One cannot but imagine the circle is over. As the sound thundered,so will the light sparkles. Though the sun keeps smiling,but the moon never frowns. Maya was a renowned poet,the hero of a denounced boet. She was an icon of the 21st century,worth morethan an expensive mercury. Maya has answered the call of nature,but her picture and lecture will structure the texture of our culture in times to come. Adieu Maya! Though you're gone,but your legacy lives on. Rest in Peace,MAYA ANGELOU! (Okemhe Musa-Katsina 29th May 2014. In memory of Maya Angelou)
MY DREAM
My dream was not a walking shadow gliding passing silhouette in the night
My dream was not a linear iron line
My dream was not a fanciful image of life and beauty
My dream was not a flat cake within the warmest tea cup,
My dream was not a single piece of parcel full of jewelry.
My dream was a life full of hope,
My dream was a home full of laugher
My dream was a street full of life, light and dancing,
My dream was a smile of love and equity,
My dream was night brightly shining within its dark recesses with homely safety,
My dream was what I thought of in the middle of the night,
My dream was what I wrote in the bright pages of my papers,
My dream was the meaning of the words that my voices dress,
My dream was the subject I taught and talked of with delighted friends,
My dream was the vision I sought to share, sell or trade with friend and foe alike,
My dream was the possibility I saw and delightfully welcome
My dream is now what I see come to pass.
(In memory of Maya Angleou, American Poet, A Woman of Words)
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