Image taken with my Infinix S4 camera
Rainbow is the colour as diversity unites to beautify a lovely struggle. Smiles and frown is a feature of a day that snails endlessly as the body drags on, the heart knows that the belly of little ones at home will speak, if bayonets fires amiss and the nets at sea is as empty as silence even after three days. The eyes of little ones will seek for answers and their lips will whisper incoherent things for hunger is a visitor that leaves when it's taken it's fill.
At sundown, home calls like the smell of a whore house, for the body must refuel again to stand the harshness of tomorrow. In this knowledge there is a bubbling in the heart and light heads shall carry their burdens like planks on their heads moving it from one end of a struggle to another. By and by nibbling fingers will starve and their little ones will ask questions of their whereabouts when they should be gibbering noisily in the market place where bread crumbs are made.
The morn should see us lift our bones and carry our kidneys like determined people, like plantains plantations dying to birth new plantations, we're planting to greedily count our proceeds jangling coins in satisfaction from polythene bags, swiping sweats off snotty faces for every bit of everything was worth it. In the morn again we go again and again endlessly till we can go no more.
Planks on heads,
light as lead,
for the evening speaks
of sweet struggles
when beaks are ready to crow
we plant in the morn
and seedlings in the evening grow
for wheats must die
crunching tastily
when the night is nigh,
and we reminisce the day
Colour is what we see,
when pain is written!
and hassles are hidden
drowned in the many voices
reverberating, echoes
like squashing tomatoes 🍅
under the feet.
as choices and needs
resonates from ear to ear
and finally, coins
ringing to pleasure of the ears
In rain, in shine!
the soul shall remain benign,
nine in time,
a stitch is saved,
and poverty enslaved.
in the rave of the moment,
our children, little bastards
that gladdens us!
to the rippening today
and home home,
to see their tenderly smiles
At sundown, we sojourn
till we see familiar grasses
and smell intimate perfumes!
for the day is done!
and another beckons
so off we go,
like a boat on row
towing many thoughts
as finally slumber comes
and the play denoues
POETIC ANALYSIS AND LITERARY APPRECIATION
The Yapping And Yarning At Sundown is a prose poetry that speaks about struggles, toiling and striving to make ends meet in an African setting. There are so many images that explains why it's an African setting. (planks on heads) for example, shows or figuratively expresses struggles and it conveys the ideology of buying and selling, hawking wares and displaying goods and services for passers by to see and patronise which is very typical of a Nigerian setting. So the poem speaks of hard-work as the essential tool to thrive in life irrespective of how tiring, it also lays emphasis on the children being a viable reason why we need to toil to raise them.
The poem is heralded by a prose which acted like an epilogue. With four stanzas to the good, stanza three is the most rhythmic which produces a musical effect. There is internal as well as eye and end rhymes as well. The poem is a free verse in nature and simile and metaphor seems the most reoccurring tool or literary devices that was employed. Imagery sold the poem and the colourful sight that was conveyed irrespective of the underlying presence of struggles is the strongest point to this mind bending piece.
Interested in some more of my works?
.
Stages Of A Consumer Making Decision Process From My Point Of View
To Fork Or To Stay Here? What You Need To Understand If You're Sceptical Of Hive
How Does Black Propaganda Destroys An Entity From A singular Person's Point Of View?
The Night Will Speak. (An Original Poetry)
Building My Dream Advertising Firm; Getting Results From The Tip Of The Finger
A Myriad Of Greed;.... But Why Does Opportunism Lies In The Heart?
My name is @Josediccus, a young Nigerian student who is a Dtuber, 📷 Psychologist, Poet And Sports Writer/Analyst. I'm using my contents as a process to create shared meaning as well as create expressions through which people on/off steem can relate. I believe content is a process to be enjoyed and relished and I'm up for any collaborations in my field stated above. Cheers
@Josediccus, your brother in pen and video 📷
*I'm hoping to reach more people who are broken at heart and spirit, so share on any platform or rehive
My Twitter handle✓
Interested in some more of my works?
.
Stages Of A Consumer Making Decision Process From My Point Of View
To Fork Or To Stay Here? What You Need To Understand If You're Sceptical Of Hive
How Does Black Propaganda Destroys An Entity From A singular Person's Point Of View?
The Night Will Speak. (An Original Poetry)
Building My Dream Advertising Firm; Getting Results From The Tip Of The Finger
A Myriad Of Greed;.... But Why Does Opportunism Lies In The Heart?
My name is @Josediccus, a young Nigerian student who is a Dtuber, 📷 Psychologist, Poet And Sports Writer/Analyst. I'm using my contents as a process to create shared meaning as well as create expressions through which people on/off steem can relate. I believe content is a process to be enjoyed and relished and I'm up for any collaborations in my field stated above. Cheers
@Josediccus, your brother in pen and video 📷
*I'm hoping to reach more people who are broken at heart and spirit, so share on any platform or rehive
I too am not a bit tamed—I too am untranslatable;
I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world.
The last scud of day holds back for me; It flings my likeness after the rest, and true as any, on the shadow'd wilds; It coaxes me to the vapor and the dusk. I depart as air—I shake my white locks at the runaway sun; I effuse my flesh in eddies, and drift it in lacy jags.
Verse 52 from "Song of Myself" by Walt Whitman
I don't know Walt Whitman until know, a brilliant poet and fantastic writer, you're entirely right, there's a little bit of semblance here;
It's a natural imagery that alludes to a home which one is familiar with. In this poem I talk about the struggles of native parents and I as a small boy growing up being exposed to poverty helped me become a better writer than I am now.
I'm so glad thank you for this, steem gave me an opportunity and I'm glad I'm also doing that on hive
I'm actually not surprised you hadn't read any Whitman before now, even though your poetry brings his to mind - #inspired! - full of life, hope, and power. @raj808, please correct me whenever I say crazy things about a poem, but it's my response to the poet's words so I guess there's no use disputing it, eh? I hear echoes of the great Whitman in Jose's "yapping and yarning," aka poetry. :)