Sun Poem by Felix Bongjoh

(song of the Sahara desert trekker)

(i)

Place your soft
massaging warm hat
on my chilled head
with more
rotors to spin a schema..

Land your jumping
frolicking fingers
to sprawl with a hearth
over my night-chilled

mass of a body
too heavy to roll
without your yawn
and sneeze and blow.

Let your furnace-warm
umbrella cover me
at all times, as your bell
of rays rings

to shower me
with hats
of warm strokes
and feathery brushes

from your birds rolling
on my scalp
to sing your song
of babbling streams

(ii)

flowing down my temple
and cheeks
to cool and dapple me
off with brushing hands.

Flip out more arrows
to land softly
with licking tongues
from your silver

and beige mouth blowing
kiss after kiss
on my splitting forehead
with louder heat screaming
for a built-up warm nook.

(iii)

Here I sit to breathe
you in with gentle
brushing butterflies
of your colorful strokes

filtered by waving ribbons,
tree leaves singing
a green color of life

into my hollowed-out eyes
whistling with more
light to bounce
on your sun-lit path

between thick bushes
and tall trees
in the jungle of my head

bawling out scribbles
from mementos
fleeing your sharp swords
under my pillow back home.

(iv)

While I walk out here,
parched deserts growing
in my drained-out
and skinny head

nestled into your arrows
softly hurled at my skull bones,
the only rock,

on which I sit and stand
climbing sand dunes
and mountains of schemas
that only collapse

on me to find shelter
under your sprayed feathers
flying me, as I trudge,

perched on the bouncing
strings of my boots
singing to my lonely
ears and eyes igniting my pace.

O sun, in your thickening
forest of tall tree lights,
I sip a song of silence,

as I trek covered
by the sheets and curtains
of your silver splashes.