Poetry: Old Still Strange
This poem was rendered at the service of songs for the late deputy provost, Dr. Seiyefa Marcus, of the College of Education, Sagbama, by the Press Club of the College on the 25 of September, 2014 at the College premise.
OLD STILL STRANGE
BY:
Oscar I. Apuge.
Yere Dennis.
Why is the atmosphere so gloomy?
And why do the seas and oceans wrought sorrow?
Even the birdsong tells of pains, the sky in tears.
Yeah! A cold chill ran down my spine
Yet, my heart searches but findeth no cause.
Strange! So strange
But most strange are the streets of hades
Though old, yet so strange.
Oh! Those paths, the paths of hell
The very path of lifelessness
Therein Dr. Marcus doth trudge.
No! Most strange is the story
Why life has to be so queer
with its fruitfulness fading away like the morning stars.
Loosing its fleshy glory to the bitter pains of rottenness.
Oh! The sweet beats of owigiri are now danced in a congregation flooded with tears
With many a question unanswered.
Let the streets wail!
Cry your tears oh living mortals into river Non
Until the waters doth kiss the most exalted shores of all.
Embrace me oh friendless old friend
Where is thy sting, put in me and make me travel away from all flesh.
Lament no more! Oh brother
The grip of death shall not be desired
Life is difficult to understand
With its twists and turns
As we all sometimes learn.
Rest if you must, but do no quit.
The arrow of death is inevitable
It will come, but only when it'll fly
Of a truth, it saddens the heart
That an icon hailed from the Okpoma rivers
Has flown downstream and is seen no more
Leaving onshore only, but the legacy.
Fall, but no more into the hands of sorrow
Those old paths wherein he doth trudge
The very paths therein we shall all trudge someday
But fear not! I delude you not
For such is life.
Until we meet again, Dr. Marcus.......
Fare-you-well.
OLD STILL STRANGE
BY:
Oscar I. Apuge.
Yere Dennis.
Why is the atmosphere so gloomy?
And why do the seas and oceans wrought sorrow?
Even the birdsong tells of pains, the sky in tears.
Yeah! A cold chill ran down my spine
Yet, my heart searches but findeth no cause.
Strange! So strange
But most strange are the streets of hades
Though old, yet so strange.
Oh! Those paths, the paths of hell
The very path of lifelessness
Therein Dr. Marcus doth trudge.
No! Most strange is the story
Why life has to be so queer
with its fruitfulness fading away like the morning stars.
Loosing its fleshy glory to the bitter pains of rottenness.
Oh! The sweet beats of owigiri are now danced in a congregation flooded with tears
With many a question unanswered.
Let the streets wail!
Cry your tears oh living mortals into river Non
Until the waters doth kiss the most exalted shores of all.
Embrace me oh friendless old friend
Where is thy sting, put in me and make me travel away from all flesh.
Lament no more! Oh brother
The grip of death shall not be desired
Life is difficult to understand
With its twists and turns
As we all sometimes learn.
Rest if you must, but do no quit.
The arrow of death is inevitable
It will come, but only when it'll fly
Of a truth, it saddens the heart
That an icon hailed from the Okpoma rivers
Has flown downstream and is seen no more
Leaving onshore only, but the legacy.
Fall, but no more into the hands of sorrow
Those old paths wherein he doth trudge
The very paths therein we shall all trudge someday
But fear not! I delude you not
For such is life.
Until we meet again, Dr. Marcus.......
Fare-you-well.
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