A lament for Seamuns Heany


“Let whoever can,win glory before death”


And the night stands still


beneath the air of

teary hours



Why do you let forth tears, in torrents

Each drop blurring the ink

Of my write

As I vacation in the broken arms of solitude



Why do you constrain my breath, a fit

of tears; of sniffs and drivel

Putting my hanky to pity


It looked all wrong

Felt all wrong

Albeit you fought your way,homebound

On a night bereft of stars….

On a night bereft of stars


Just as your presence filled auditoriums,

Your essence shall fill our hearts

Thousands of word-shippers shall find


In the ark

Of language you built

In the lyrical beauty

Before death took you to Elysian Fields

Where Blackberries abound.


~ © Shittu Fowora

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