Go!

O go! go! go!
Many Kumuls have gone with
A quiet song and now
Inhabit their solitary where
Silence is dead and
Darkness is imprisoned.

If ye should leave,

Would not the maggots,

Upon you joyously feast?

While twist in dance and
Turn to show their full bellies
Then excrete and piss
Thereupon and continue?

What path different and nobler
Would you take?

By: Jeffrey Febi             26th April, 2011

Guess where I come from

She flirts with the sun
after the shadow.
And he only smirks,
she can't feel love,
so the clouds daily weep.

In her turbulent childhood,
Purari she raised
on a Crater of old, where
gems gleam at night.
And her beloved husband,
with one leg stands guard,
scanning over her curves
With an eye that never shuts.

And in his mighty one hand,
He embraces a daughter.
An evergreen green gold
Whose masses of berries
load grey branches heavy
and colour them optimistic
green, delightful yellow,
then rosy red.

But berries can't fly,
nor walk.
So they sleep,
for the sun's charm is meagre,
until they too
set with the sun.
Never to rise again!

By: Jeffrey Febi          12 Nov 2009

This poem was first published in the National Weekender, then on PNG Attitude (asopa.typepad.com)