One Poem by Samuel Ugbechie

Songs escaping out of bones

There’s a litter of vowels in my mouth,
a fettered dirge I haul into the wind

-scarred afternoon. There’s lament tinseled
with wings, flyleaf of lyrics oozing

into rain. There’s murmur, burnt, fingered
like an organ, and walking like a ballad

into this noodle of winds, I bond with home
-land again. Catch me like a pitch

of pollens, hurl me into knockwursts.
How I cherish this purple-plumed blur

of rain. How this warren is warmth
piled upon warmth, longing in humming

fluid. There’s rain at noon, still the sun drips
its flush of scars. Birds, tilted in their pages,

soaring from line to line, sentence to sentence.
Reading is soaring, the sky, a blue

-burnt manuscript cuts like moments
into memory. When you find me sift

through blade-sharp clouds. Split me.
Nothing but songs. Sounds in hardbacks.

Body in leathered doubts. No place as pliant
as a plait of home, no moment as mild

as a mud of melody. When the rain begins
to nap, I abandon the figs and marry

the small, shapely instance. Ballads
in my breath. Sonnets whistling

sweetly in my lungs.

 

Samuel Ugbechie’s works have appeared in Sentinel UK, Elsewhere Lit, Nottingham Review, Jalada, Palette Poetry, and elsewhere. Some of his works have been recognized in awards like the Vice-Chancellor’s International Poetry Prize, Fish Poetry Prize, Frederick Holland Poetry Collection Award. He tweets @sugbechie.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.