Why I Love Sylvia Plath

She holds my pen

Beautiful

between her wet palms,

the way she writes.

 

And  not looking

at the notebook of man

between her thighs,

she leads the pen

through its lush pages,

beautiful, like the petals

of a scented orchard

to the root/chapter in red.

 

How colourful is a woman

beneath the arms

of a man she has given

all of her dreams, spectral?

Being beautiful is life’s climax.

“Crucify me, Jesus”she says.

Fertilize me, she meant.

 

So I lift the joy of her sorrows

on the cross leaning on me,

and save her  from singleness;

 

the things poetry can do.

The things a man can love, or give

his life for, when a woman is his equal,

 

sweet and independently at peace/ one

with me in the trinity; Love, love again,

and love eternal. The endless reading

of God in heaven.

 

Home

 I took off  the sun’s halo

on my  outdoors hours and

slog, and my day, beyond  hinges.

Said my prayers with love and

lamp in the dark, my belief open

 

to answers or stars, particularly winging,

as of angels,or of chandeliers,

paired with flowers, blue in God’s

hands, the rosaries talking about

how in the beginning I was both

 

man and heaven, creating gardens.

Someone hears me, my lover/ heart.

She comes with credo and music.

” Hold me” she says. I hold her as one hold

unto faith. She is magic. She is miracle.

 

The stars fall. The house accepts its doors.

The children grow with each kiss. I fall

with the stars into her, their mother;

the home, sexual, more than just bodies

finding a bed, finding arms wide as forever.

 

 The Personification Of  Rose

Her beauty

is the colour

she wears,

 

Salvador Dali ‘s

paintbrushes,

bee-busy, worked

till my night mixes

with her day,

 

Woman in eclipse.

 

How can one describe a flower

growing from red passion?

 

Tend her

with the clouds

in your finger,

and a tongue.

 

If she comes/cums,

make her a garden.

 

 

 

image source; flickr

 

About the author

Tares Oburumu is a graduate of philosophy and religion from the University of Benin. He’s a lover of God and his daughter, Sasha.

Ngiga
editor@ngigareview.com
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2 thoughts on “Three poems from Tares Oburumu”

  1. I totally enjoyed reading your poems. Your imagery is at once playful and deftly deployed to connect with your subject. Will follow you henceforth.

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