HUMMING BIRDS

HUMMING BIRDS

I saw a trembling bird in a forest
Under a stratum of black cypress
Battered by the drops of acid rain
Laying on its back, wilted vein.
An eagle once flapped here as well.
It lost its way on the sky.
And two seasons for its wings to heal.
Yes, two seasons on rolling wheel.
But, I don’t want this hornbill to wilt
To fade away with windy guilt.
The orange glow of the empyrean
Needs burning ball of fire.
The passion flower needs a tower
Far from wind’s howling scream.
Does the sparrows have to chirp?
Does the dove have to weep?
Before fostering the hummingbird.
I will rise before the golden coin set
With my rose and green leaf
To heal the hummingbird.

OUR NOISY BITTERNS

I can see the empyrean gathering
Behind the Mount of Lake Victoria
Accompanied by whirlwind
Rustling flowers and feathers.
I can see the thunder bolting
Behind the sprawling Dove dale
Shuddering, the booming bittern call.
Oh! How I hated these drops in summer?
Autumn flower washes.
But, I love it now, to pelt on the bitterns.
Though, I don’t have crimson liquids at hand
Not against the hummingbirds, bitterns or ravens.
I am a Galapagos white dove
Flapping my wings in gallows.
Haha! The bitterns call from the hull
Has left so much to lull.
But I needed it now.
More than the sea tides can howl.
Tear the green fields and gardens
And make the bitterns couch in garlands of thorns.

HELPLESS BIRDS

We are sometimes hummingbirds
You know hummingbirds are flabby
In need of a tree root.
We are sometimes cooing birds
This season, not hummingbird, a poppy
In need of sprout.
The empyrean has its own cankerworms,
Billows of black smokes, warmth
Among dark trout.
We gleam in a bucket of ripples,
And oceans of flustering waves
But we need a gripple.
We glance towards both ends of golden coins
Nothing happens,
The caladrius wakes in us.
Then we turn to our pillars
You get the mumblings of parrots.
Does the poppy have to coo?
Or the double-crested cormorant grunt?
A push, a sun-dew miracle.

WAITING

I have been waiting in this dark box for two seasons
You know, as people say,
Waiting too long can stray a veil.
But what can I do?
The stage dictates for reasons
Best known to a doll.
Though I am not a puppet,
But the hyenas made me so.
They pull the strings and shoot the bullets
While I lean on an oil bean.
Oh! Yesterday, I saw a peacock leaning too
On an oak, with gleams of furrow
Only the glowing stars and orange balls
Knew how they leaned.
Maybe a leap season or raised gross?
But I know for certain
They flapped its wings from a mountain.
Does a lamb has a bleat in a dreary forest?
Does the dwarf sea horse growl in a North sea?
I just have to keep leaning on an oil bean nest.

The author, Joseph Marcel, Ikhenoba is a Biochemist by profession and a passionate writer. He has published several poems, articles and stories which have been published in Amazon, Poetry South, Short story.net, Poem Hunters, Core Humanity Commons and Academia.edu and Writers Space Africa, Goodreads, Afri-Library and Kinsman Quarterly. Semi-finalist for Black Diaspora Award, shortlisted for Natives Award, and longlisted for Iridescence and Dr. Paul Kalanithi writing awards in 2024. He likes sports, writing and scientific researches.