This poem is about love
And it is very long
It is a long poem that tells the story of a kind of love
Not the kind of love you read about in romance series
And not the kind you see in soppy soaps
With dark-haired men and yellow-haired dolls
Who never have children because then what color would their hair be
This poem is about love
It is a long poem that tells the story of a kind of love
A love you will not recognize
A love that is disrespectful and blasphemous
A love that does not know its name
I don’t expect you to understand
Don’t understand
I only wish that you would pay attention
No, don’t pay attention
Don’t pay anything
Only listen
It is yet one of the harder requests ever requested
Requesting that one listen
Because we all like to hear our own voices most of the time
But still I wish that you would listen
Only listen
This poem is about love
Love that started in the church
In the house of God where the devil worships on Sunday
Every Sunday
And the demons burn incense and bath in holy water
This poem is about love
Love that started in the church
Between a boy and a girl who sat on either side of a man and woman
He was a chorister
Join a choir today
But he did not sing in the choir because he was too good a singer
So he sat just behind them and sang aloud
Sang better than they sang on Sunday
Every Sunday
Every time he sang so that they could hear that he was good
He was singing aloud when the man sat beside him
And a woman followed and sat beside him
And a girl followed and sat beside her
And he was singing aloud just like he sings
Every Sunday
She was not a chorister
Remember, join a choir today
She just joined her father and her mother to church on Sunday
Every Sunday
Every time she dolled up in Ankara and silken wraps
She blow-dried her hair with a hand fan
A souvenir from a cousin’s wedding
And she tied it with a yellow headband
A souvenir from a broken heart
And she got in the car and went to church with her father and her mother
Every Sunday
Her father sat down and her mother followed him
Her mother sat down and she followed her
And sat down
Just like she does on Sunday
Every Sunday
Pause
Rewind to the last stanza
Not this last last one, the one before the last one
…
He was singing aloud when the man sat beside him
And a woman followed and sat beside him
And a girl followed and sat beside her
And he stopped singing
He stopped singing aloud like he used to on Sunday
This Sunday
He stared
And she pretended not to see
Still he stared
At her full head of dark natural curls
Bound up in a mellow yellow bandana
Grow some dark natural curls today
Buy a yellow bandana, a mellow yellow bandana
Her eyes were hazel and hazy
As if they struggled to cover up mistakes done by, gone by
Her eyes were set a tad too far apart
As if they struggled against their own chemistry
Her nose was a slight button of caramel-tinted flesh that overturned like a fancy W
And her mouth was full with lips lusty and lined
Sun-dried tissue peeled off here and there, like roasted bundles of human phloem
Roasted and ready to eat
And he stared at them too long because he wanted to speak to them
No
To her
He wanted to speak to her and hear them speak to him
But the man and the woman sat between
Garbed in white and unmoving
Like the seven seas and seven hills
Where the seven dwarfs lived with Snow white and the princess, Obeledu
The man and woman sat still
Garbed in white and unmoving
Holding hands
Whispering and pecking when everybody else shook hands
The girl stood and made for the altar
Her offering bunched in her hand
She walked like the answer to a charmed human prayer
She walked like she knew she was the answer to a charmed human prayer
The man sat still, the woman sat still
The boy sat still
But only for another second
Then he stood and made for the altar
His offering bunched in his head
He walked like a charmed human prayer
He knew he was a charmed human prayer
He had no money in his hand but there was a song in his heart
All things bright and beautiful
All creatures fair and caramel
All hazel eyes and hair plentiful
The Lord God made them all
He waited on the stairs and she never came
Till he dusted his seat ready to give up the game
But then she came and she was the same
Like he had seen back in the pew, just the same
I think I know you from somewhere
It was the dumbest line ever
Learn some suave lines today
No, I mean it
Learn some suave lines
No you don’t know me from anywhere
It was the straightest jab ever
True, I don’t. Give me your number
Smile
Let’s go downstairs
So they went
Down the stairs
And they talked on the way
Down the stairs
About crying babies and praying adults as they walked
Down the stairs
Give me your number
No
I shall return here, same time, same pew on Sunday
Every Sunday
Just to see you again
Smile
You are wrong to assume that I will be here, same time, same pew, on Sunday
Every Sunday
Sigh
And they talked some more on the terracotta
A few yards from the gate of heaven
The huge narrow gate to paradise
They talked about foreign languages and strikes and campuses abroad
Then the mass was over
And the din of shuffling feet and bustling voices rose to a fever
Pitch like it did
Every Sunday
They poured forth from the gate of heaven
The huge narrow doorway
Give me your number
No, you’re a stranger
In the church we’re one, almost like family, not strangers
It was a suave line
Remember, learn some suave lines
Smile
Give me your number
The dark curls shook no
With the mellow yellow headband in tow
Remember, buy a yellow headband, a mellow yellow headband
The boy smelled the man coming
The girl smelled the woman coming
Give me your Number
No
Aaarrrgh
I shall return here, same time, same pew next Sunday
Every Sunday
Just to see you again
The curls rejoiced in the mellow yellow flames
I hope you do
Smile
Sigh
Give me your name
Smile
And they lived happily ever after
Every Sunday
This poem is about love
I warned you that it is very long
I warned you that
This poem is about love
A love you do not recognize
A love that is disrespectful and blasphemous
A love that still does not know its name
I did not expect you to understand
Don’t bother
I am just glad you paid attention
And you listened
Her name was Omoye.
I am @ojukwu_martin on twirra
LOL. How is it a poem about love that is disrespectful and blasphemous? Tell me quick before I vex that I paid all that attention and got no understanding for it.
Lol…shei as i write am finish na me go still decode am for u?!! Hian! 😉
I love the narrative style
its very cool.
Thanks bro
Maybe I don’t recognise this kinda love but I know it somehow. Good suspensive narrative style, had 2 pay detailed attention. And yes!!! She finally gave the number and they both walked down d isle to the altar(in anoda poem I guess) #winks @ojukwu
You think, Jessy? 😉 Shaa, with you rooting for them so excitedly who know. Afterall miracles happen and they were in fact in the house of God. Thank u dear…#wink right back atchu
Kai! Blasphemous! Hope they went for confessions before the marriage shaa…. Sorry! Hope you’ll go…. I meant because I am sure you’re not married yet.
Sorry,I’m preempting, I’ll go for confessions!
Nice work
Lol…bros! Na craze be this? 🙂 Thanks joor
An ordinary love story told by a master story teller can only make it all d more ‘wowing’. The narration is soooo on point and free flowing, gotta luv it. Actually luv the way u emphasized those short lines especially “learn a suave line”. PS: For a moment I bin think say na ur stacc luv story I dey read.
Thanks, my man. You go fear stacc luv story nu nu…d stacc wey i siddon for choir stand five years? “Join a choir today” 😉
Again, brother…thanks
Lol, this poem made me smile a lot. can’t see how the love is disrespectful tho.
Lol. A lot of people don’t. I’m glad though, thank you
Omo this poem long ooh. Great piece!
E long die…no be say you talk am. But you were warned nah 😉 Thanks man