With Fennel Sword Flashes
by
Iyan Igma
With fennel sword flashes
And violent bounds and leaps
You parry your best friend
Your young honour to keep
And scratches on your thumbs
And splinters in your ears
Were your badges of courage
To ward off every fear.
Battling through your ditches
With dust stinging your eyes
You reveled in the spry game
That your kids now despise
El Calvo
by
Iyan Igma
The hair would scarcely come off,
Despite how much I hacked.
My razor scraped and scraped
After scissors had whacked and whacked.
But then, at last, I was free
From maintenance with my hair shorn.
It was time to accept my new look,
Since it was too late to feel torn.
I was I, and just as strong,
Which is why my Delilah’s annoyed,
Because my flamboyant image
Was temporarily destroyed.
How pithy everyone’s expressions
When they saw me with a shaved head;
It’s like they but saw my ghost
And were sure that I was dead.
Everyone should be bald once
To plumb if love and friendships are real,
Or if they base such loves
On an image that is not real.
anticipation
by
iyan igma
life is leaving and i remain all alone
and i wander about places i’ve never known
as i search out that no such place known as home
the future’s coming though it’s been here before
like being loved by someone and knowing it for sure
it will leave you in anticipation of more
Whose Parents are Old
by
Iyan Igma
Whose parents are old,
Make much of your time
To learn from them all you can,
For, if wisdom dies cold,
You’ll find out your crime
Of being American.
Their small victories,
Sacrifices galore,
And energy they still have
Enjoy with pleasantries
Cherish them all the more,
That in death your soul’ll have salve.
If you miss the chance
They won’t be around
When you’re ready to learn.
You’ll be your own lance
Your soul run through quite sound
Guilty heart and eyes will burn.
At the Time It Was Elation
by
Iyan Igma
Don’t let naiveté return again
To rob me of my hard-won sense.
I curse the years that I embraced
Religion-bourne innocence,
For faith is more fickle than love;
God’s mercy’s worse than a millstone;
Harlequins and vipers fill the church,
And soon enough I’m all alone,
Crass because of yearned belief
That opened me to manipulation
And made me forsake to be forsook,
Though at the time it was elation
In Sap’s Stead
by
Iyan Igma
I once thought that faith’d e’er ooze out
Sap-like to heal all of my wounds.
Bugs could never get past my bark,
And I flourished when pruned.
But then the moisture dried up,
And I was riddled with pests.
Cockaded woodpeckers bored into me
Searching for their meals with zest
Until the point it’s pointless,
For my xylem and phloem are dead.
No matter how much faith rains down
Tears pour out in sap’s stead.
Eternally Mature
by
Iyan Igma
As if life were mortality!
It’s far more than we comprehend
Since it doesn’t require a body
And has no beginning or end.
And if we perceive the world
Through this eternal illumination
The small frets of earth’s flicker
Won’t detract from our inspiration
But when we forget or do not know
Being overwhelmed is second nature
Look to the steadfastly truly happy
And you’ll see they’re eternally mature,
Having mastered this crazy puberty
And gotten their heads back on straight.
Everyone else is ruled by hormones,
Greed, ambition, jealousy, pride, and hate.
