The fountain Arena

Betty Bouncer   Hip the top of hoof All that was heard was school No will of hope to laugh Call them that see and dwell Here is her old lady today So sleek and frenzy she gaze Of winter tone and grass No forty wrinkled her face She called me her nephew  On that name of Birth from different sun  Still shines on same soil I hid my name  Far from the reach of lids  Far from the blazing fire  Far from man's knowledge  She sought the pen of fame And call her sight to seek  The stolen joy of name  And formal stage alike  Then my memory lost the sight  Of Betty fist and all I gave the scroll away  And met the Forte of life Frenzy was her gaze  Docile and prudent that says Until the first eve  I made that call  And the old lady be no more.  

  T he pain that surrounds us do not spare our beloved ones, As we share the same burden and ecstacy together. This fosters  the 'why' that makes our affection lingers. Same goes with our immediate environs, where the natural objects such as rain and the land joins in our anguish party. The metaphoric usage of the desolate land where people weep non-stop is liken to the pain one felt when things goes bad in their most treasured station of abode(land or home). Share in this sensation with the poet as he embarks on the journey of pain together .   The ocean has saturated our land; Carcass of precious sewage inviting Offspring of alphabeta to trade with us  In the annual feast of the eye's flood. Here we are, lords of swollen lashes. Kissing the blended sail of craving pant For decaying ages that shone our nodes Before our first withdrawal was made Click to read  caged  Together we sang duet of scorn From our distance crest In union cries that pierces the skin Sweating myster

The cold is pampering my gentle skin Piping my seized breath Away from warming snow  As the refrigerator would  To preserve my lacerated bones a stick That race endlessly without a rival My teeth dance naked to an unheard beat Swinging its white crystals in shattered joy Hurrying to glance through all frozen arm  And lukewarm tears which Streams like a foreign guest to my stock body Afflicting my tormented skin anew  Blending every region into an antarctic station Taiwo Ayeni ©2022 Brief analysis Four seasons birth the circle of a year; the summer season, the winter,the autumn or fall and the spring. Each season with their effect on nature and human in its. As for this poem, it concerns itself with the aesthetics and soft pampering of the winter call. The prevailing imagery metamorphosis the visual imagery ( as refrigerator would) and tactile imagery ( pampering my gentle skin ) to recreate the effect of winter chilling that romance the poet skin, "blending every region into an a