I am so excited about April since it is the month that brings a lot of coolness and sun. My mission for this month is to upload a poem for each day. Unfortunately, I don't have 30 poems stacked under my bed but I will be writing them. I'll start with this one. I wrote it for a poetry workshop and thought it would be a great way to start. I honestly don't recall what I was thinking about when writing this poem. Aha! I lie, I had a crush on this guy and wanted to write about him without giving him too much attention. His name is not Zaan. Zaan is a pseudonym. Well it didn't go any further if you're wondering about the crush but I'm glad he inspired such a poem.
Zaan
The sound of his name
reminds me of
the palm-nut fruit
falling from the narrow arms
of the palm tree.
The small red berry ,
filled with red hot oil
heals the wounds
of a porcupine.
The moon bleeds
from the cuts of
the sun rays
as the stars suck
the icy blood
from the dead sun.
The grass pierces
through the black soul
as the swaying wind tosses out an egg,
and the vultures wail for their loss.
He is not a warrior
rolling in the dirt of the forest,
guarding the iroko tree with his feet,
thick as the blood that cools
the nerves of the brain.
He is an owl without a tongue,
using his wings to whisper to the moon.
A tiger stripped off his black spots
rolling in the ink of the zebras.
He is the wind without water
A desert without sand.
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