Portrait of Water in Three Phases – Poetry By Nigerian Writer Olayioye Paul Bamidele

Portrait of Water in Three Phases

I

i do always think i am made for this. a ripple,
returning to what i tried running from. what physics law
explains this? explains that genesis is the dawn
we always awake to? look, a noose. the edge cut of a thin strip,
reeling me anti-clockwise. i swear, perfection is the will
of the sea, not the boat. when i dive into its belly,
i taste brine & it spit me to the shore. to say even deathtrap
forbid the untouched. lighting, perforating through me daily.
i know i am a kinetoscope & my visuals are blurred
to the avenue of contortion. perhaps it is the onslaught of grief,
whittling me. perhaps the weather is a parson, reading through
my sins. perhaps – the phrase, still fledgling its wings to fly.
for a knight to scribble with a feather, it needs blood.
for me to write this poem, i ripple, touch the forehead of copulation,
& withdraw to a hermitage .

II

i once wrote that there is chemistry between water
& the body. Here, the experiment says, go, learn to live
without me. Or is it possible to bask in the water for decades?
yet, i perform the rituals every morning. I dive inward,
brisk reek from my skin, & come out, pure as sunlight after rainfall.
my smile, the rainbow. waters cascading into my body,
increasing the sixty percent. around me, perfection swirls
like rain-breeze. tell me, what is eternal than that? what
is desire with longevity than that? mother’s love?
definitely yes! every day i walk into the river, i walk into an embrace.
soft breasts. trampoline. trickling bosom. watery rose.
eternity in a moment.

III

a poet described baptism as the cascading of waters.
true, the waters permeate my skin like oilfield, & I am
just as a dove, strengthless to flutter my newness.
outside the pool, I glance at a girl. Her body, another ocean.
her rump jingle like two hung cisterns, potbellied.
i search for an eager way to plummet. there is a close
relationship between lust & the body. it’s as if the body is smithed
to slit through this; bull’s teeth against tiny shrubs….
(sighs)……..
…… (<<>>)
father, what can i say? the angel you formed in me has raindrop
against a rock. I copulate more than I commit to faith…
…..
will I…..
…. can i…..
………….. shall i
be saved again?