Our Past Lives

As I paint the picture
On the board
With my rugged brush
And sharp knife

It cuts my vein
Spreading my blood
Into the past events
Of my life

I see the many shadows
I’ve walked in
The rain of mud
I have been soaked in

My mind bends
At the very sound of this
Shaking it in
Difficult peril

Have to erase the whole paintings
With water and detergent
In order to bury the bones
In its proper place

At her words
In her past lives
In my paintings
I see her wrong doings
In its eyes
Shouting loudly at me

All we have left is
To bury the bones
In its proper place
As we paint along
In the wave of time
Given to us by the Divine
To merry in


About Michael Ogundele

A writer, ardent reader and lover of nature. fell in love with writing five years back and I've been engraved in her arms ever since. I share my little way of writing poetry and reflections based on Catholic faith and Spirituality on this space. I hope you enjoy reading as we ride the same chariot to the leafy greens. Do follow me and together, let us jump into the ocean of my ink.
This entry was posted in Poems and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Our Past Lives

  1. Very nice. 🙂


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s