Friday , September 22 2017
Home / Poetry / Poetry from Riak Marial Riak
1 (1)

Poetry from Riak Marial Riak

Three Poems by Riak Marial Riak

Yellow Symphony

I

sea-breeze, the waters of compassion,

my soul is bathed in the yellow ponds of affection.
the yolk is fading out,
soul-breeze

when eyes watch the episode
what do they want?
This winsomeness is dusting,
the scent known for nostrils

is going through my eyes
as the walls of my heart are painted yellow.

II

Blossoms of affections,

twinkling stars,

beautiful lilies,

we toasted our heads

in the river of yellow symphony
but was baited
I see affection passing

your iron nose
when axes become blunt
the trees will never cry.
I glance and minnows dance round my house

and by the by-pass many swans

are striking my ears
will i call this affection

or the colour of your worthwhile?

III

when the heart sinks and flees

do not count this on individuality
some are not independent,

it is a matter of confidence that drives them
it is seldom to see a sinking stone

but this water is herb

for quenching affection.
hold my hands to worthwhile

this passion is taking me to the grave.

IV

Morning trumpets blow your name
the fluttering of the wind,

puttering of the water

and sounds of the nature’s nestlings

still spring in my memory
when the cock crows

i  no longer see with an eye of Simon Peter
or do i want to be Judas Iscariot
i am the worth of your symphonies,
the littleness that cycles

round your red-house

(seeking a burning heart),
a house built on the shore

of a yellow river
i will go out and whistle

unto your ears these souls’ music,
let me enjoy this glee

for we may dance in the yellow waters of beauty
or in the yellow pools of symphonic world

my worthwhile.

 

 

 

In Our Old Days

We loved to talk of revolutionaries
like John Garang, Karbino Kuanyin,
Brainstorming of unexplained powers of Manyang Jok
and the unforgiving power of Tong Luoc –
about how he could dance in fire
without burning his skin.

The moon was always bright yet we could be blind in plays,
plays like to go and hide under the crops,
plays like to tie your face and blindly chose your girlfriend,

we still remember those days when we sit here in camps,
when we run to queue to be given free grain
again.

My grandfather always swore when he saw fish packed
that I would never eat that which my hands never cut open.
when a bullet would be left to your house
and our night playing girls gathered to prepare food for the revolutionaries.

Sweet tears dripped down our cheeks
although it was said to generations to never think of the past,
how could our minds let them be bygones
when we could leave homes for weed and moss.

Ah, now Lonhmagok roamed like a rejected harlot amongst enemies,
If I could be snow to come and fade later in the day
I could come and glance on my old days, calmly on a giant rock.

 

 

 

Approaching Midnight 

I am sorry that I see in these dim skies,
wandering about the beauty and instant freeze of the taillight –
I’ve forgotten of night walkers told when we were young and naive
That they sprang from a night’s secret caves to suck man’s blood red and dry
I’ve forgotten of the birds that visited children to monitor their growth
as my hands grow bald of the clicks on this screen
I’ve forgotten of the frightening barks of mating hounds.

-where someone may rise from dust and ashes,
These men have crushed skulls craving justice.
But I rose to count the voices I heard in the grass
And kept one that roared most,
Thinking over the frog’s dullness in blabbers.
and to forget of the dream I had when I almost approached midnight.
when I was told some years back,
tales of an old woman living in a filthy house,
who, very old, gave birth to an old baby.

 

 

 

Author Bio:

Riak Marial Riak is a south Sudanese poet, writer and dramatist. His works have been featured in Kalahari Review and African Writer. He spends most of his time writing poems about life, death, love, nature and war.

About nthanda

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *