Outskirts of Inner Bowl

By Felix Bongjoh

Based on the psychological trauma of death, especially through war and violence, and its meaning to the afflicted, the poems in this book dwell primarily on various perceptions of death and the way it affects man. So difficult is the phenomenon of death to comprehend, that the bereaved heal only partially, constantly relapsing into a mourning mood. The book is a reflection on how death drains man’s stamina to withstand agonizing adversity. Because of death’s long-lasting effects, the poet seizes the opportunity to explore the mind’s complexities, leading to its obscure character as it confronts new adverse experiences. Concluding that one can only explore the contours of the mind to penetrate the character of agony, the poet perceives the mind as an everlasting solid bowl, whose real core is never clearly understood. The title of the book directly derives from this perspective. Lastly, since death occurs in the context of ongoing life, including especially in the countryside and in urban settings, the book takes up other themes. The book explores various aspects of normal life, which may invariably shed light on the nature of man’s psychological stamina in the face of adversity.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Sep 27, 2019
• ISBN: 9781490797595

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: 978-1-4907-9758-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4907-9759-5 (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.

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Trafford rev. 09/26/2019

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Contents

Mind-Emptied Shore

Gate to Mind’s Outskirts

Costus’ Path To A Mind’s Bowl

Outskirts Of An Inner Bowl

Home of The Mind

A Shredded Evening

Scribbled Ants Across Death’s Page

Hollow and Bumpy

The Round-Bottomed Pot

The Step We Failed To take

The Round-Bottomed Pot

Blooming From Grime

Kneeling

A Dry Piece of Wood

Boulder On A Trunk

Ostrich Lady

To A Bereaved Friend

Fish

A Bullet-Firing Grin

The Dinner Show

Fire Extinguisher

The Final Resting Place

The Ultimate Dregs

September

Baobab Tree On A Page

Trees

Laterite Woman

A Dictating Day

A Swelling Street

A Deflated Afternoon

King Hoopoe’s Defiance

The Jetty’s Gate

Everybody In Their Boat

A Shroud Of August

A Neighborhood’s Cloud

A Cardinal’s Ribbons

Growing With The Departed

Grains of Tears

Length of a Hyena’s Tear

A Welding Clue

Grind me in

Cotton balls and foams

Growling Out Of A Burrow

Sorrows’ Stormy Cliff

The Hunting Trip

The Sun-crowned Preacher

A Creeping Evening

The Young Soldier’s Song

Mood of the Street

The Chipped Stones

Eagle Along A Yellow Path

Widow In A Whirlwind

Cemetery At Bamenda Commercial Avenue

This book is dedicated to Agnes Josiane

Bongjoh, my beloved departed daughter

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Mind-Emptied Shore

(i)

Seals bark on streets

Far away from stone-piled

Shores, where parents

Sneak at pedestrians

Whinnying with tramping

Zebras attired in

Frozen traffic, where snails

Of old men and crippled

Beggars walk on stomachs

They haven’t fed

For days, but listened

To hummed songs

From empty barrels rolling

Inside them with

A growing deepening bass.

How life too deepens

Into the last grave,

Where we shook hands

With lion-hearted Nyuonguo

And eagle-lipped

Atongni, who jumped at

A soldier’s rifle

Holding a thunder’s title.

(ii)

He seized it and grabbed

The skies with smoldering

Scarlet fire

In jackets of dancing cardinals,

Moths in a swoon

And wriggling smoke

Singing through broken teeth

And red butterflies

To ignite swarms of flames

Tossed way

By elephant trunks of huger

Firestorms wearing

Fashionable gowns, sailing

In torn pants and open mouths

Unable to hold

In loose cavities torn gums,

where a cave-mouthed

Sky hurled out

Hymns ricocheting

Against wrinkled banks

Bearded with old hair,

The greying spume left

To flower empty

Shores with yellow birds.

(iii)

Rocks and cobblestones

Planted their feet,

Erecting new walls

Across the caterwauling

River breaking away

From the cocoon of its shelter

Between creeks still

Building tall walls, still firing

Shots, where nobody

Stood. And where everybody

Stood and fell, rising

Into hills and trees building

Shorter dwarf walls

(iv)

Lulled to sleep on beds of silt

Along dead whales.

Come on, this taupe smoke

And fog spreading sheets,

On which broken edges

Of the sky sleep

And beep themselves

With dreams to fan

Sleep still standing on crutches.

Where the mind has dived

Into the bush

To harvest wildflowers

In thick gobs of blood

And the hidden bowl growing

Spidery lines

on large stroking palms.

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Gate to Mind’s Outskirts

(i)

A river flanked by mahogany

And ebony trees rinses

My hands with spume and soap suds

Bubbling against my shore.

But my ablution is toweled only

By a soft blotting sheet,

The green padded leaf sipping sap,

As it hangs down

From the four walls of the sky,

A latticed bandage my fabric

Of a new life

Rising from an ocean floor

With silt propping eternal life

On thickened banks

Flogged and whipped by rainstorms

From a sea wave’s sigh.

(ii)

From burgeoning flowers

So spectrally colored

They sit like a rich salad

My condensed words spin for

A dictator’s grin that has spilled

My people’s blood, ketchup

On a green lawn seething

With life’s fresh leaves

On a sun-lined crystal table

With knife and fork built

Into my tongue to stick out

A worm and a stiff snake

Never curling back its head to blow

Like a quivering nibbling rat

With words of death

Giving rise to life in a precipice’s

Rush and stagger rolled out,

A layer of pie, to feed the soul

That never dies, but starves death

Always dressed in a new mask,

The scarecrow a crow laughs at

With a bearded eagle’s eye.

(iii)

My conscience dressed

In trees shelters me with sun

Firing through leaves,