Bouquet Of Hugging Flowers Poem by Felix Bongjoh

(i)

A vase is a mine-shaft
harboring leafy
and flowery gems,
a garden's sky

in a bucket, a piece
of earth holding down

roots of sprinting colors
braided and stitched
to the core of a flaming knot.

A tottering gaze
holds together ripples
of a wink, sailing off

to the shores of a peep
growing into a preen.

(ii)

A vase's glass
spins a narrow window
hurling you
to the large door,

a full-fledged grin
blowing a wind
to sheathe and blanket
the magnet of an eye

warming up a place
for touch
and fondle, cotton specks

on cheeks rubbed
against each other,
as fruits ripen on love's tree.

Feathers between palms
tightening sky-dropped stars
from a moon-lit sky
sprinkling torch-eyed stars
riding on bright birds' wings.

(iii)

Time to etch out love
on a bony far-flung silhouette

drifting closer the brow
that shaves itself off
on the filter breathing in curves

and ponds of the pulled-out
cheek gleaming with petals
flying in breezes and zephyrs,

the landing moths
leaving traces of ash to deepen
the hearth glowing

with coals growing into a fire
ginger to light up
a candle with an unfolding
blue flame of sea,

where silver and snow gazes
drown an evening
in the tumbler of a deep drink

sipped with tiny fractions
of wind, gusts and a hurricane
yet to flip open

higher canopies to gulp down
a full drink, as moon
and stars cast
their bouquet of flowers,
a fisherman's net

flung over a burning vase
standing still
under a sky weaving a thousand stars
into a lightning's flash.