Flawless like Africa’s at dawn,
Devoid of the colonialists’ desecration.
Her glossy skin ravages my palm with yearning
Desire to travel far and wide her well mapped body.
Flooding my banks of fantasy with dear desire for ecstasy.
Inholds swith like the python’s constriction,
Intoxicating me with dilemma of words for expression.
Her teeth gap when she smiles paves way through
My heart, melting every solidified wax of defence.
Her beauty crusts lust with love for the elusive she carries.
Renders quils of most reputable of poets nonvirile,
Making me lurk more in her presence for artistic observation.
Her eyes ooze subtlety, bringing my quest for beauty ashore,
Intimidating the prowess of my invincibility.
She is the sticky clay, my words are the humble potter .
Erupted in my mind, a raging storm of thoughts,
Depriving my eyes of a gratifying consummation
With sleep, rendering my fingers vociferous
all through the night’s serenity.
All in the bid for perfection in inditement…
Mirrors her vocation, as it
Carved wheels for my eyes to journey
Along with her dexterous hands beautifying
Creations of her genre especially on their resting lips,
Serving as an opon ifa* faring me into imagination
Of my lips resting on the comfort of hers,
With my tongue exploring the depths
Of her pinkly shafted cavity.
Plagues my focus with assiduity,
Arming my eyely curiosity with blush brushes,
Lacing her gaze with intimidation,
Revealing the jealousy of her peers,
Raising me brows of perceived promiscuity
From my friends,
Facilitating an anonymous smile on my face.
Like a path I’m treading, victory the aim,
To be labelled a victor in the quest for her heart,
Crouched behind the veil of affection.
Beneath her tongue lies the catalyst to my triumph.
But little does she know, I’m just a merchant,
Opon ifa: A Yoruba term used for a wooden dish and used by Diviners for alledgedly seeing into the past present, future and communicating with the gods.
I am Makinde Damilola Peter. I am also happily married to creative writing but my contract marriage with Communication and Language Arts in the University of Ibadan keeps me away from her at times. But we still find time to consummate our love though. I would have been a prolific footballer if my father had not flogged the ability out of me during childhood, but watching soccer still constitutes my hobby. My female friends would have fancied me more because I’d have been very generous in helping to make their hair and putting on makeup but my mother diagnosed me of an evil spirit when I signified interest in acquiring hairdressing and make-up artistry skills. However they still makeup my keen interests.