Songs for the Subterranean Souls

By Gbekeloluwa Yusuf

SING for the subterranean souls,
In that tempo shall the tune go,
Till an ease pass over of the brides,
Who met their cracks;
During fair tangles with lore,
Learning now in horrendous strike,
Dreams have in no small measure left us,
Of sisters left in a shadowy fate;
For theirs is like the blind,
Circled with beams yet seeing not,
The things that cause the day,
Let us sing in warm decorous force,
And proclaim to reclaim scores of spirit beings.

Let us play lyre and trumpets,
What rid rude Jericho’ s brims.
If wars are failing the sounds of hope,
If sylvan display are obsolete,
Like cymbals creaking but empty,
Let us wind to what would shriek,
But sensuously than whistle,
The pipes they held high,
While cursing Jericho’s ruin.
To bring these mirrors to us again,
Seat mated for a proper gaze.
No breath knows nigh or far,
The faces have gone.
Be throaty sane to vent plea….
Pray in zestful strain.
Call the mynah to sing,
And all that buzz in the frosty nights.
It seems the matching feet are done,
But the gracefuls have not returned yet.

Dirges this time is elegiac,
How shall death song be sung!
For souls trapped amidst some seas.
Sing still, still alive?
You shall come again!
For life has no nose to blast the strayed,
From the threatening memory,
But death has in its stead.
Each gaze at every nature’s entity,
Brings to fore the glare of the termed lost.
These lilies have turned things cast in thorns,
Wherever the scene, seemingly unseen,
They are cut in, be tuned all;
To the harvest harps rocking,
Bring home again all the Sheaves.