Krystal Pen

Fiction, Poetry and everything Literary. Every voice should be heard.

This damsel of sorek/ poetry/ By Funge-owei Michael Nemine

This damsel of sorek

When she passes
all that remains are lapses
of men once planted in the hills of mambilla
contending with ageless pillars.
Because she rows doom
with this bulky cumulus of weaponry
forged from blood and clay;
the shape of a full moon.

This weaponry,
it is even weak and fluffy
like blue band flogged
with sweet, white granules.
Yet, us they conjure
and clueless we become
so that we dissipate like
the contents of mother’s talcum powder.

When she passes,
all that remains are sages,
losing their souls in bits.
How tremendous it is
that she spills blood
By mere tossing of this fleshly highlands.
This damsel of sorek.

©Funge-owei Michael Nemine

photocredit: julia swartz


Categories: Home, Poems

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