I, A Book Of Poems

by Osman Welela

  And see the world's secrets hidden in the lands’ lay?

  Maybe it's too much to ask for,

  Yes, I'm asking for a life that is just a fancy blur,

  Yes, I think I suddenly feel the rightness of these chains,

  Each link made of its own burdens;

  Family and worries of the depressing future just between

  Obligations that freeze with dullness and unfulfilled dreams that burn.

  But even if I know that life is right to be so hard to all that passes through its clutches,

  I can't help but want to just for once be rid of these heavy shackles.

  …

  14. She Comes in the Dark

  Hair the color of red gold,

  Long enough to seem to have no end;

  Veiling most beautiful of skin,

  So bright and so green,

  It makes a spring grass in sunlight

  Look as dull as any dirt.

  Lips so remarkable a color it would be a sin to call purple,

  More breathtaking than a fair skin with a bruise,

  Hiding teeth that shine in the night if they show,

  Whiter than fresh fallen snow.

  Eyes are caught whenever she is turning,

  Her tail flashing with colors so dazzling,

  They make the world's most brilliant stones

  Feel no precious than colored beads.

  Eyes more mesmerizing than the absent moon,

  Yet burning more warmly than the morning sun;

  I feel it should somehow kill me,

  To come across such beauty again and see,

  Though I always come to that place

  On dark nights as these,

  And walk to the water’s edge,

  Hoping to catch a glimpse of the most beautiful thing in life,

  For my mermaid of the green sea comes for the land's drink,

  And she comes in the dark.

  …

  15. Stranger in Your Eyes

  Poison spilling from my mouth,

  Feeling it sour behind my teeth,

  I taste the words at the back of a tongue,

  That seems to move without my leave.

  Anger boils my blood,

  Coming from somewhere not my heart or head;

  I look behind my terrifying eyes,

  A stranger to my own expressions,

  I watch as my words pierce your trusting self,

  Not hearing your words of plea that fall on ears which have become deaf.

  I see the hurt look that replaces the love in your eyes,

  I tear out your heart, stopping it between beats,

  I look down at the blood pooling at my feet,

  Feel your love for me die on that lonely street.

  I cry out to your retreating back,

  Hoping to drown out the words I could not take back,

  As I finally regain limbs that had fallen to a stranger in my bones,

  A thing that brought out words that I knew would destroy our souls,

  And retreat a step in fear,

  Realizing I had passed my demon onto your chest, into that dark tear,

  As I look at your empty expression brought on by my words,

  At that stranger in your eyes.

  …

  16. Sunshine

  I like watching sunshine,

  I like it more when it's almost night time;

  Love looking at the golden beams,

  Spearing through dark branches,

  Giving the gray leafs and orange flowers,

  A touch of color in enchanting shades.

  I love watching the sun bleeding colors out,

  As it slowly dies in the west;

  Maybe it's that death,

  That makes it different from the morning sun's breath,

  The beauty of a thing,

  That might be, forever, leaving.

  This might even be the case,

  The reason I thought I loved you more than life,

  Deep down, I must have known,

  That the time would come too soon,

  For you to leave this world without that heart of mine,

  And my world to ring with your absence;

  Since most of all I now love sunshine,

  Only because I remember it shining on your face.

  …

  17. The Thousand Words of an Accidental Painting

  Black room silent in its loneliness,

  Light streaming from a crack of open door in whispers,

  Cold window shimmering in the light

  Coming from another room and the dead moon of the night.

  I see a face,

  So beautiful in its hiding place,

  Right there behind those vines,

  Also the unruly strand of hairs,

  All clear in the dark glass of the window,

  All made of cascades of condensing water that is hard to describe now.

  For a moment I was there,

  Looking at a stranger in the eye,

  With the certainty of life,

  As they looked right back at mine;

  And then I knew in an unconscious way,

  I was looking at how I would meet my Vesper one day.

  So, as I try to catch all the details of that face,

  Even as my heart fell in a dazed state,

  The crack of the open door widens all of a sudden like a magician's trick,

  Taking all of it in a nick.

  It seemed strangely appropriate for it to vanish in that way,

  Like sudden lightening in a quiet, clear day,

  Ahh! What a fool I have been in thinking

  I could write the thousand words of an accidental painting.

  …

  18. Voices of Gods

  Maybe you believe what you say,

  Even if that's hard to believe in this age and day;

  All you self-glorified priests,

  And ,yes, also you not most humble of beings,

  Who prosper in the bright shadows of so human gods,

  You with that legendary title of prophets;

  Is it easy to follow the path

  Which you so lavishly preach?

  Lies if repeated persistently are said to seem true,

  I can’t say I know this for I have no experience of this scale,

  I can’t claim to have brandished such feats of dazzling transformations,

  To have held that elusive thing I may call a philosopher's stone for words.

  Maybe it's easy to believe your own lie,

  For then you can forget many foolish things dubbed true

  Even in your own strong faith,

  Then you won't feel a thing when you break the things you teach,

  And soothe your sore lips with one of those rare, unforgivable indulgences,

  The, seemingly, rightly deserved fruits of your labors; those sweet child's lips;

  Or guzzle down some cups of pure wine,

  To cool your throats that must be hoarse,

  For I have heard it said by many reliable fools,

  That there is no harder job than to be the voices of gods.

  …

  19. Where the Sky Ends

  Will it wait for me?

  That naively safe,

  Warmly sweet,

  Obliviously great

  Thing I call childhood-happiness;

  For in now ancient times,

  It had promised to wait,

  So I can come back with no regret,

  When I am finished with that seductive trap

  They named growing-up.

  I remember the place clearly,

  Where I said I'll come back one day wearily;

  A miraculous place,

  The sleeping den of change

  Where rock slowly turns to pebbles with a line that's hard to find,

  And pebbles grudgingly break to be sand,

  While sand makes that most curious of choices made by young men,


  And goes out to sea to risk it all in turn.

  I hope it waits for me when I get there in the end,

  In that magical land,

  Where, if you look for the heavens,

  You might just find where the sky ends.

  …

  20. Wise Fool

  What is the use of knowledge,

  If all it leads is to a hollow space

  In your heart

  Which was once filled with ignorance that these days seems so sweet?

  Answers now look to lead,

  To the one question I think I've always had;

  Why continue in this path,

  When life is easier even to a blind man's touch

  If you believed the lies told to the masses,

  Which seem at the core to never change as time passes?

  As learning shakes your beliefs of the way to believe in God,

  Why trouble yourself to seek out a new path to that holy land,

  If the path that leads ever forwards,

  Always shines on the pure darkness of past tracks?

  Why madden yourself to this end,

  If all you come to be is a wise fool when you are dead?

  ***

  About the author

  Osman Welela is a writer living in Ethiopia. He usually likes to waste his precious time by obsessively reading any books as long as they are ‘good’, tirelessly watching movies, eating good food, and listening to music. His works include: a collection of short stories called A Glimpse Of Dreams, a full book with the title of A Cuckoo By The Window and a book of poems titled Rhyming With The Winds.

  …

  Connect with me online

  Twitter: https://twitter.com/oswelela