A Poor Man’s Poem- ‘Joba Ojelabi

This is how a poor man makes poetry
Metaphors are the beating heart of his soliloquy
And similies like stomach rumbles become pesky alarms
Alarms trying to wake him from his ironic slumber
After all, the best way to sleep is on an empty stomach
or beside a grumbling wife
Because somewhere along the line,
Personifications would start to rebel
Friends made in desperate loneliness never really stay too long
Like Hope or Faith or the other things that makes a poor man sing
And when words fail, Euphemisms won’t
To remind him of the bitter sweet oxymoron that life becomes

My friend, this is how a poor man makes poetry
Words from the empitiness of his pockets
Colour from the melancholic melodies in his heart
And satisfaction from the little pleasures of life…

 

Joba Ojelabi

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