Gaining an hour in the fall…
time just seems to stand still.
It’s an hour too slow!
Oma Okolo (c) 2016
Not dated…but I’m positive this was written in 2006.
Tomorrow, I say, is not a day too late
I will be early
Next day the same
Oh what a farce!
This struggle to conquer sleep at break of dawn
Off to school one morning
Elated at waking at quarter to five
I flee slumber sweet
Fresh eyed like dew at break of dawn
‘Breakfast’ rumbles belly
Breakfast; a thought
Cereal and milk from shop shelf to bare fridge?
Not a chance
The shop is shrouded in sleep
Its keeper still in bed at six
In repose before the traffic of a London day
Make a meal I will
How long will it take?
A piece of string
Clanging pots and pans
Gas slow burns bolognese
My portfolio is not ready!
Clutter! Clutter!
Organised chaos is what I do best
Quarter past seven; I let sit a meal too hot to eat
Half past seven; salivating
My bus pass! I cannot think where it is!
Frantic search on a need to know basis
Food waits…
Lost is found; what a relief!
My class is at nine
I have an hour to burn tire tracks of speed
Banish fear! Embrace rush!
To Sod’s law miss bus
I knew it, I knew it! I tell myself
Teeth clenched
Early is something I do not do best.
Oma Okolo (c) 2006
Oh my days! Just found a ‘monologue’ I wrote as part of creative writing elective way back in 2006!
Gosh I stink! I am so fed up of being worn. Never rested. I need a sabbatical. A well deserved treat at the water well. Doesn’t half make me dizzy though, spinning round and round…and the fast spin is a whirlpool. What a rush! But the rewards…whew! I come out of that merry-go-round-on-ecstasy smelling like daisies or whatever it is whatsyourface puts in the water! And how often do I get such a treat? Whenever Mr Forgetful remembers, which is pathetically rarely. So here I lie exhausted, sweaty, mucky, putrid and sick of myself.
“Oh no! Not you again! Hey! Mister! I bet you can hear me. Don’t act like you can’t. Pretending to be as deaf as a doorknob! Take me to the water well! Can you please not wear me? I’m cheesy enough already. Hey! I’m talking to you! Can you not see the hole you poked? I know my sibling is mute…but, hell-o! I am definitely not! What do I need to do to get some service around here?! Hell-ooo! Is anyone home in that head of yours? Forever up in the clouds! I understand you are very busy. I should know; I got bruises! Have you ever been to a chiropodist? When are you getting married? You need to do something about your feet! I know I stink but having to keep your feet warm is not doing us any favours! Have you ever tried talcum? It works a treat, especially after a whirl! I cannot believe this. After everything I’ve said? All my nattering! You actually want to try me on? Let go you nasty so-and-so, stinking up the place with your feet. I’ll be tight soon, you’ll have to let me go. Okay, okay stop tugging so hard. I am on, alright, on”.
Oma Okolo (c) 2006
Found some poetry I wrote in 2006 inspired by a linocut print titled ‘Drinking at a Ceremony’
Taste the ritual
Wet the lips
With ceremony
Decorum flows
Pending decision
Formality waits
Counting minutes met
For every drop
With baited breath
Awaits approval
Oma Okolo (c) 2006
Another poem inspired by linocut by Billy Mandindi titled ‘Happy flute player’
The flute of life
Tuned with experience
Resounds
Perfectly pitched to the listening ear
We are beguiled as by the piper of Hamlin
To keep in step
Drumming heartbeats
Pattering footfalls
Thundering thoughts
Tinkling tears
Pealing laughter
In sync; out of sync
We twirl, glide, wiggle, bounce, jiggle, stomp
To the flute of life.
Oma Okolo (c) 2006
So still that I can hear my thoughts reverberating; spinning around, untangling from a web of ideas
Creating room for more
Trying not to trip in the scramble to fill my head
So quiet I can distinguish the hum of electricity
The constant low drone emitted by gadgets seems deafening
In the quiet of this once bustling house filled with noises that defied thoughts to be heard
Oma Okolo (c) 2016
You know you are bored…when you can’t be bothered to argue To disagree or agree. When nonchalance is far more than a byword in your peripheral vision. When it really doesn’t make a difference.
‘Doing life together’ is not meant to be a chore
Hold on tight for the bumpy ride
Pray you don’t hit a road block
Causing you to part ways
Leading to heartbreak
Boredom is not an excuse
To recluse yourself from vows made
For better; for worse – ride it out
Sway with the twists and brace for the bumps
Oma Okolo (c) 2016
Sleep plays peek a boo with me
Darting in and out from shadows
Of my subconscious
I try to catch up to the tiddlywinks
That skip about playfully
Watching with heavy lidded eyes
As sheep make obscure patterns on the wall
Oma Okolo (c) 2016
I’m on your side of the bed
And you are not here
But it’s cosier
Reminiscent of your warmth and embrace
I nozzle into the sheets
In the smell of you
I’m at peace with the world
Comforted by your essence
Oma Okolo (c) 2016
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