#71. Floetry by JulietKego: Let the Scales Fall Off.

Patience and Wisdom

Floetry by Julietkego: Let the scales fall off

Child, slow down, slow down, be patient
do not force the scales off of life’s eyes
Learn from the greys on my balding head
Listen to the voice of regret and glory
at things undone and words unsaid….

Wait for time, soon you’ll see,
the scales will fall off when they’ll fall off
And you will see the world within and around,
reveal her mysteries like a dancing peacock
The scales of life will fall off when they will fall off
Ride the natural waves and rhythms of nature,
flow with the universe,
in the direction of rivers
for we are all one of many rivers
of one lonely dream.

You cannot force
the public hair to grow
or budding breasts to sprout
because a girl stomps her feet
and proclaims herself a grown maiden.
When the seed of time is ripe
and only when it’s ripe
will her fruits of womanhood
be softened and ready for plucking.

And my child, it’s same
with everything else in life.
Let things rise naturally like tides,
let them fall gracefully like rains.
Allow rivers of things and people
flow into your life and space,
also accept and let them go
when their season is done.
Dark, cold clouds loom,
and a price has to be paid
when we shift and force the scales.
Pain and suffering bloom
when we fight with the order of things.

The feeble, cola-chewing old man,
who thinks himself a sharp,
solid shaft of a man,
abandons the beloved wife of his youth,
runs off and marries a maiden;
ndi anya cham, cham, cham,
(with nipples that poke his eyes)
must now divorce his sleep,
work twice as hard on his softness
to keep her satiated and calm.
Or like a strung-out skittish sheep,
she falls off limply and follows
those young,
crotch-grabbing, gum-chewing,
whistling suitors,
disguised as sheppards,
waiting on standby
like wounded,
wolfish hawks,
at the gates of his cold hut.

Everything follows a pattern,
nature gives and nature takes
Sometimes sunsets follow sunrise
Like a sullen, seeking shadow
And life is like the breadfruit,
you must press out the seeds
to discover her flavours for yourself;
if they’re sweet, bitter or sour.
You can never find the direction
of your soul on the wrinkled map
of a deceitful, (open and lovely) face.

By their (in)actions,
you’ll find the spirit of wo(men)
clearly revealed under the sun
in no distant time, some dreams
will melt under her gaze and
others, will harden like clay.
Wait for time, soon you’ll see,
the scales of life will fall off
only when they’ll fall off.
Who we are will be unveiled
under the secret shadows
of a morose, mocking moon.


© Juliet ‘Kego Ume-Onyido, 2015 (All rights reserved).

#70. I am the WORD.

On air; in mid-flight,

In between travels; in transit,

On the bus; in between bus stops.

In a lift; in between space and time.

Jejeli, minding my own business,

and then other people’s business.

Gbeborun, overtly and covertly,

politely and rudely eavesdropping,

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