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Isa Muhammad Inuwa

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FACT SEARCHING
TO MY SON
MARRIAGE
POETS ARE BORN
THE MATRTYR SLEEPS

FACT SEARCHING

In the gizzard of
My songbird cling the cupidity of
My lust for poetic beauty

Through the glee of
Cynic's smile passes
Mirror reflection to focus the
Zest of lurking, green envy

In the yawning mouth of
A hungry lion stick fatal tooth
With which bones of lowly prey
Are voraciously devoured

Through the enthralling move of
A dancing maestro
We gauge the crescendo and
Zenith of spectators' gusto

We learn by experience;
Through conglomerations of causes and
Events; through effects and after effects
The bigger we grow, the more we learn
An undeniable vital part of us all -
We live to continuously go on fact finding

TO MY SON
(A rejoinder to Awaal A. Gata)

I envy you
For shaking the lion and
Kissing tiger's forehead

By your phallus conjured
The cock is ripe for circumcision

But lo! You stepped on the
Lion's tail!

Flee then, to a saving lee!
The lion
Is out for a duel!

Poetry, isn't to me a yellow jingo
Of self glee, nor an island caged

It isn't a showroom of magic
It isn't a sophist's spree
Of archaic jargons

I, a groomed king
In the art, an enviable
Master of verses -

Words are to me, a bunch
Of bowing maids

Millions go on their knees
Begging for employment
In my poems

But I needn't a dictator -
To tell which of them
Best fit in architecture

Now son, mortify this torso and
Shed these vices
Alas, you are re-born!

MARRIAGE

In whose puissant hands our life circle
Thrives along the course of time
With male and female genders in
Every specie, conjugating and
Multiplying in numbers

While Adam and Eve stood our symbolic
Origin to regenerate, we graduate into
Ourselves Adams; but power to determine
Which sperm fertilizes which ovum in
Copulations, lies in the dictates of divinity

Through this power we reproduce -
The walking humans, the crawling creatures,
The flying fowls and the cascading herbs -
We all navigate in the marital ocean to
Relate as fathers, mothers, brothers,
Sisters and all sorts of siblings

Through this power we contract ourselves
Into duos of husbands and wives to raise
Further chains of generations, through the
Seed of love sown in family units -
Brides and grooms were afore time united
By fate in couples, destined to reunite on earth -

These were duos carved out of same clay of
Same mixture and molded, into what they
Later appeared to become; marriage's magnetic
Power, works to reunite couples as earlier destined
Thus, we all are products of marriage and
Marriage is life

POETS ARE BORN

Poets are born -
Some poets bow out of
The womb, with bags and baggage of
Literature, strapped to their shoulders

Their initial baby-cry
Were wonderful innovations of
Literary gumption
Their kicks and wriggles, were
Remarkable aesthetic gestures

Other poets pull along
Crowds of words everywhere
Words begged to be stitched into
Lines and stanzas of artistic beauty -
Words jostled to be fitted into
Rows of poetic conjugation

Yet others are, comforted by
Chatting and laughing with words -
Words were their errand servants
Words were their stewards
Words were their chatting mates
Words were willing to do
Every assigned job

Their pens are ever prolific -
Endlessly oozing arts
Tirelessly manufacturing poems

THE MARTYR SLEEPS

Maggots and rodents would
Will never placate on the martyr's corpse
The earth will never erode his body and
Never would the sand impair his shroud

He forever sleeps in peace
His body covered with lush black hair -
He lies there in the tomb, but
The soul lives in the cozy abode of heaven

So long he sleeps in the ambiance of
Godly bounty, he feels no pain from the wounds
The wounds are healed, yet remain as tags of honour and
Marks of savagery of his heartless killers
The wounds shall on judgment day, speak and expose
The evil perpetrators; they will as well bleed

Yet, they would exude musk-scented aroma
The martyr shall stand tall in pride of his might
He shall never face the reckoning of deeds
Nay, he will meet the waiting embrace of
His thousands melon-boobed damsels
All creatures will testify to his rare valour and
Be hailed hero of paradise dwellers!

Woe shall befall killers of Sheikh Ja'afar!
They would be arraigned before the
Great assembly of judgment day, chained
By fierce-looking angels of chastisement
The hellfire shall be bared to the sight of all and
The scale of reckoning shall be put in place -
Behold! Angel Israfeel is just about to
Blow the trumpet, for the world to end!