Songs of Anisha
And oh I couldn't understand it
For I felt I was rich
And I told them of the love
My momma sewed in every stitch
And I told them all the story
Momma told me while she sewed
And how my coat of many colors
Was worth more than all their clothes
But they didn't understand it
And I tried to make them see
That one is only poor
Only if they choose to be
Now I know we had no money
But I was rich as I could be
In my coat of many colors
My momma made for me
Made just for me.
“Moon Call,”
by Austyn Njoku
The crescent moon rises
Peeps through the aperture
Into our dark mind chambers
Where we lay back to back
Like feuding adversaries armed
Ready to die for honour, the hand
Of this heartless fanciful lover;
Her golden smile summons souls
Awake, to levitate and ascend via
The portal, into her charmed embrace!
But I’m earth; I heed not her bid
I defy her eternal pulchritude
I rise and sit on the cold floor
Feeling her warmth wash over me
She smiles and slowly takes her leave;
Were we bonded, the moon and I
Why would she peep, beckon to me?
But I am earth, dense day or night.
186