Flying Horse Riders Poem by Felix Bongjoh

(i)

It is windy,
gales screaming,
blowing
into hornets,

fluting
with galloping
horses
in speeding rain.

Slowing down
to a walk
and trot,
but picking up
steam again

to canter
across
a stretching field
of slithering
loops of tracks.

What horse
riders
sweep across
in a flying air,
wind steering it.

(ii)

More muscled
flying rain
in the wind
pounces earth

with hoofs
tapping
an expanding
leather drums.

Through whizzing
tree leaves
and branches,

some
slowed-down
and
pausing horses

neighing
with drizzles
and
downpours
to pump back

thicker, heavier
rain drops
swinging silver
and steel rods

of wind-sprayed
rain and swelling
drizzles
whipping trees
and tall stems.

(iii)

Through swinging
reeds of rain,
winds fly more
speeding
galloping horses,

horse riders
cruising through
whispering,

whining and warbling
silver spears of rain.

The hourglass
harnesses time
and pace,
but stops no flying

horse rider,
no flying wind,
but pluck banjo
strings of rain

to take
the horse riders
to an island
filtering windy rain
with a gold shower
of sun,
home to the wet
flying horse riders.