Through Sundry Waves

By Felix Bongjoh

Most of the poems reflect a diverse number of themes, a plethora of waves, as suggested by its title. The themes encompass, but are not limited to pain, love, grief, beauty, nature, man’s ordinary and extraordinary experiences, while others project man’s interaction with man and nature.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Jul 18, 2019
• ISBN: 9781490796222

Felix Bongjoh

Felix Bongjoh, currently living in Boston, Massachusetts, is an International Human Capital Development Consultant, who previously worked for an international organization for some 30 years. In addition to the present twenty-fifth book, Saddle On Thunder, Bongjoh has previously published 24 books of poetry, as follows: (i) Chorus on a Bridge; (ii) Broken Gloss of Bliss; (iii) Nightfall at Dawn; (iv) When Dusk Hoots; (v) Weeds of Jewelry; (vi) Season of Flowers; (vii) The Ineluctable Spin; (viii) Gloom’s Sprout of Love; (ix) Spectrum of Zephyrs; (x) Whistles in the Wind; (xi) The Sun Still Glitters; (xii) Cliff of Sirens; (xiii) Quiet Shadows Scream; (xiv) Angle of Angels; (xv) Sculpted Out of Sky; (xvi) Feathers of Fur; (xvii) Through Sundry Waves; (xviii) Beyond Dying Ripples; (xix) Doors to Eris; (xx) Outskirts of Inner Bowl; (xxi) Ebbing Out, Bouncing Back; (xxii) Tailored To The Stars; (xxiii) A Storm Wave’s Reach; and (xxiv) Isles Of Light.

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Copyright 2019 Felix Bongjoh.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

ISBN: 978-1-4907-9618-5 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4907-9622-2 (e)

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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Trafford rev. 07/17/2019

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This book is dedicated to Agnes Josiane Bongjoh, my beloved departed daughter

Contents

Perforated Days

Researcher And Preacher

Hiccoughs From Grass

Maze Through Maize Stalks

Flame Of An Estranged Cow

Morning Fruit

Hill Side Masks

Creeping Stars On Earth

The Race

A River Of Flies

A Fly’s Space

A Quiver Of Breath

The Ballet

An Umbrella’s Navel

The Unfinished Dressing

Hoof Or Wind’s Hand

A Garden’s Red Party

Fire

Through The Promenade

Sky Roofs

The Two Trains

Kisses Under Rainbows

A Fire’s Hue

Open Eye And Ear

A Wink Of Eyes

A New Moon

Thawing A Chilly Frost-Ridden Morning

Petals Of Tears

Melted Out Of Desert Heat

Career Ladder

For A Bighead Knapweed

The Allium Dome

A Golf Course Of Alliums

The Vanquished Storm

Wounds Of A Bond

The Bird’s Dirge

The Brightest Star

Strolling With Indigo

A Ride With Mr. Macuna

A Twilight Of Silt

The Medals

Rolling Logs

The Captain’s Whistle

Fireworks Of History

The Survivor

The Chandelier That Won’t Hatch

Silence

Perseverance

Faces Of Threat

Skies

Red Lake

Bird

One-man Crowd

Perforated Days

(i)

Days squeak, leak,

And freak out

With lightning

Slashing thunder,

As skies

Are sewn back

Into its fabric

With shafts of light,

Although

Not a single

Drop of rain

Bounces off

Earth

Like grasshoppers

And crickets.

(ii)

When cloud-filled

Brawls grow

Squeaky and metallic,

A brass band

Far off in space,

A star-perforated sky

Robs moon and sun

Of filtered light.

Days sift soft

Dust

Blowing into

Seething cauldrons

Churning out

Meals from bleats,

The scapegoat

A figurine goat,

Whose horns perforate

A soft night,

A blanket

Not worth a night.

As night, the wiseacre’s

Deep hole,

Perforates earth

With many night followers.

Researcher And Preacher

(i)

How has the wind

In strands of thin

Fiber braided itself

Into loud-mouthed

Strings spanning

Eclectic worlds on

Axes spinning them

Along river-pulled

Paths! In vertical

Wrinkles, rivers rush

South like numb

Lines on splayed beef

Breathing out blood

For a preacher’s

Word, the wind in

Strands knitting

Themselves into

Gusts of disbelief,

And as strands spiral

In tornado wings

Into the sky, the world

Too grows taller

Into the mountain

About to open mouth.

(ii)

And when the wind’s

Strands are latticed

Into an antimacassar

Against which the storm-

Driven researcher

Confronts a stone wall

Of stiff currents,

The dogma breaking

The skull, rivers rise

Through the throat

Of the choking

Tall mountain, dim

Eyes misunderstood,

Building up into

Bouncing occult suns.

A last wind coughs

(iii)

Like air suddenly

Released from a tire,

The researcher spitting

In the preacher’s

Face with an outburst,

A rocket at takeoff,

The magma jumping

Out into the river

That drowns, breaking

Down walls with its

Torrential punch, until

Pagans and illiterates

In a living room crochet

Milkweed threads

Into antimacassars in

Rags, on which they lean

And warm themselves up

In shreds of zephyrs

From a fireplace stroking

And never sticking.

Leaving everybody cold,

Only half-frozen rivers

Running underneath icebergs,

The earless couches

In which they’re dumped

Like soaked winter coats too

Heavy to carry, their breath

Too sticky to tow away.

Hiccoughs From Grass

(i)

Hiccoughs from grass

Where breezes take

Turns to flip over sheets,

On which long grasses

Write stories for quaking

Chickens to read, as

They nibble away some,

Scratching scarred earth

To carry away tiny gems