Pelican's Wingspan Poem by Felix Bongjoh

Pelican's Wingspan



(i)

A sailing white
pelican
carries
the world
on its wingspan.

I carry
the mountain
of the universe

on my
tongue's tip
with a mutter,

a nail
hammered
into space,

a wallowing sheet
rolling on
with me,

as I fish
and smoke out
arcs and arches

and spears
of trolls.

As I lean over
the pelican.

(ii)

How shall
I flap air under
feathers
of a burning sun,

the pelican
no longer scanning

a crater
to cut it off
from a fire
in the valley.

(iii)

How shall
I grab a flying
silver wind
chasing a falcon,

the pelican
having
slipped off
my narrowed page,

leaving me
to my clouds
rising

in a tornado
to stroke
nimbus ceilings,

the rising people
bubbling
in flames humming
out ashes
in a smolder,

no rainbow glow
when lightning
strikes

and flexes
its melting elastic
sword

to rip and burn
a moonlit page
losing span to flow.

(iv)

And I cling
to a pigeon's
soft,
smooth wings,

dodging
the pigeon's
talons
in a narrow alley
on my page

tossing me
over
to a pelican's
wingspan,

spraying light
on my page
flowing

with a crooning
river beneath
a pink
breeze of dusk.

Saturday, October 3, 2020
Topic(s) of this poem: creativity
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Felix Bongjoh

Felix Bongjoh

Shisong-Bui, Cameroon
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