The Landscape
Martins Iyoboyi
Now stands upstanding tussock,
Fading far away,
Now rises hapless sorts
Everyday by day.
Eastern glow in the eyes mount
Enchantments of illusion,
Ruse-like memorials of time
When nothing has been won.
Today’s morrow’s transaction,
Facer in studies of time,
Till doom’s endless mission
In their portraits and signs;
Proximity defeats hopes,
Augmenting rays of better world,
While now, I, near the throes
In the guerdon of the crust.
Why ebullience of mortal hue
Dire ambition, study of stars,
Firm destiny while it rules
Till the season of the dark?
Perchance, glossy rays of the distance
Imbibe endless symphonies,
Sure elixir of soothing radiance
In blissful age of melodies.
Sleeping shadow, nigh their shades,
Ensconced in time’s resolved rule
We are that specie of each day
In stark vanities to build;
You moot of distant echoes,
Munch poesy cheese of the mind,
If you are close to our road,
Cheer melancholy of the time;
The landscape sung in arts, valiant,
Fettles in woes of horizons,
Now seem murk in the world of minds,
By season’s infinite cauldron.
O inuring blindness do
Alter chances of near-firmness,
Guest in halls of the good,
That virtue labours to send.
Killing obsession is done,
Moonshine retired in swift strides,
The virtue in earth is won,
Like a rare blameless bride!
Carouse nimbly not in blunt casts,
Divine worth that crave the heart,
Then you may be the last,
In wooing vanity’s pow’r.
Now yet stands upstanding tussock,
Fading far away,
Now rises helpless sorts,
Everyday to day.
