Skip to main content

Poetry: JABDARII









HOW CAN I EXPLAIN THE JOY OF
our first meeting to one whose
feet have not touched the soft grass
of the dry savannah?
Laila your name on my lips
Bids the harshest of Harmattans 
on my cool skin goodbye
Like the magic of warm liquids
over the cough-strained voice
In a child's throat
Laila will you unwrap your hijab for me
like a rose unfurling its scarlet petals
to catch the rays of the morning sun
After a long lonely night?
I am a man of many travels
And a thousand flowers 
My eyes have beheld
But none like my Jabdarii
Your rebuff is like a knife to my gut
What seeks your heart in a man?
I may not be the Sultan but I have cows and fields
Nor an Alhaji but I'm pious
Laila, Laila
Your hennaed hands call to me
In my night visions
Laila is the tauraro arewa
that guides me back home

Comments

  1. Wow. I absolutely love this, Seun. I tried closing my eyes visualising the subject in my mind; the henna, the hijab along with the love-starved soul.

    ReplyDelete
  2. I'm really glad you liked it! Thank you and don't forget to share... <3

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Introducing My Friend to Pomegranates

It was twenty-nine degrees Celsius  one night in the middle of August. My big fan,  the only reason why I’d been able to avoid buying an AC throughout that unbearably hot summer,   was blasting at its second-to-highest  setting.    I was sprawled  on my bed, watching Trevor Noah videos and ignoring my cramps, as well as my prior plans of going to bed at least a couple of hours before midnight that night. My friend, Grace knocked on the door. “Come in!” I answered. She opened the door slightly, holding a up a small pomegranate. ‘How do you eat this?’ We had gone grocery shopping together the previous weekend, and I'd spotted some pomegranates and picked up a few. ‘You have to try this!’, I'd excitedly told Grace, who had never had pomegranates before. I had only started eating them several months ago myself, and I had found them a more than suitable dietary companion in the cold winter months. I stood up and went to the door. ‘I’ll help you cut it.’ I took the fruit and we walke

Thank You for the Music: My ABBA Story

I must have been about eight years old the first time I heard ABBA. I remember the CD case cover, the black background of the graphic paper behind the plastic, the letters ABBA and Gold written in gold-ish color, so that one ‘B’ was turned the opposite way, resting its spine against the other B’s. I remember two small custom-made bedside wooden chests with single drawers in my parents' room, packed with CDs- ABBA, Michael Jackson, Celine Dion, Lucky Dube, Bob Marley, Westlife, Backstreet Boys and many others. There were movies too- Titanic, My Best Friend's Wedding, Prince of Egypt, The Lion King, Coming to America- some of the best of the eighties and nineties. Growing up, my father had music playing on a loop almost every evening, and certainly every weekend. Most of the tracks were classics, old school funk and RnB, lots of reggae. His room was, a sacred shrine of sorts to music- the lights would be off, but we heard the beats from anywhere in the house- boom ka, boom boom k

The Taste Of Cardamom Chai

Earlier in my adult life, I met a woman in her late thirties or early forties- I’ll call her Stella. I’d been looking for a cheap room for rent, being a post grad student on the tail end of my program, having recently moved out of a relatives home in search of a different living situation. I had found the listing online- the room looked pleasing enough; furnished, clean, well lit. Stella and I got along well on our first meeting. She seemed chill- too chill, like she really didn’t care if I took the place, but I could sense a slight hopefulness beneath it. She told me about the person who used to live there, how they kept on bringing kids over- kids who would just ignore Stella in the hallway. ‘How rude!’ I had exclaimed in agreement. Eventually I moved in. It was my first time living ‘on my own’ since I moved to the country, and although it was January and the temperatures were frigid, I was set afire with the excitement of independence. There were three rooms in the house- one belong