The day He came Forth

So I heard
From the lips of the past
It happened on the
Wings of the bat’s feathers
On a wet thursday
Shaping the face of the winter

There the heavy cry
From the lips of a maiden
Setting her hands in the depth
Of the womb
To uproot the second seed
With the men clothed in white
Carrying the basket to
Bear the harvest of the season

The man behind the window’s
Heavy pant
With his folded brow
Drew attention from the eyes
In the building
As all set sight on the new arrival

With minutes creeping into
The 2nd watch of the hour
There the ant walked out of
The little hole
With rays of the sunny smiles
Greeting his little face
With a wooden pen in hand(oh yes!)
As a support
As he glides through the water

All present marveled
As they knew the eyes
Of the young boy
Was to write a portion
In the pages of history
But they know what naught
And a heavy smile spread
Across his little feet
As he closed his gentle eyes

(All Criticisms based on my writings are duly welcomed!)



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.
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