Harmattan Haze

by Gbolabo Adetunji, posted in Grace

I wonder how the wind reads the wind trails,
Whispers in the dust that soften the sails
Of trees bent low, their leaves brittle and torn,
Cradling the silence of a world reborn.

It carries the desert’s song, harsh and dry,
Sweeping the sun from a pale winter sky,
Turning each breath into cold, brittle air,
The earth cracked open, its skin stripped bare.

Ghosts of the sand dance in endless parade,
Swirling through streets where the shadows fade.
In the haze of memory, mountains stand still,
Yet the wind knows the paths they never will.

It kisses the skin with a dry, bitter grace,
Leaving its trace on each weathered face.
I wonder if it pauses to recall
The warmth it has lost, the rains that must fall.

But for now, it hums through a dust-covered land,
A fleeting caress, a harsh helping hand,
Guiding the seasons with an unseen thread—
The wind reads the wind, then carries ahead.

Sluggish September

by Gbolabo Adetunji, posted in New

September drifts on languid wings,
The sun, a weary traveler, slows,
Leaves, like tired coins, begin to spin,
As summer’s purse, near empty, shows.

The days stretch out, a golden yawn,
A river sluggish in its flow,
Afternoons like heavy drapes,
That hang in twilight’s sleepy glow.

The air is thick with ghosts of dreams,
Of warmth that slips through loosened hands,
Time, a spider, weaves its seams,
In webs that hold the fading sands.

No hurry in the waning light,
September whispers soft and low,
A month that stalls between the nights,
And summer’s last reluctant bow.

Loud Silence

by Gbolabo Adetunji, posted in Of Silence

In the midnight mist, where shadows swell,
She perches high on the throne of night,
Her eyes like ancient embers that dwell,
In the ashes of a once-bright light.

Her wings, like whispers in the wind,
Glide gently as a secret kept,
Like the words we never dared to send,
Across the chasm where silence slept.

She hoots, and the sound is a ghostly sigh,
Like a breath lost in the cool night air,
It pulls me back to a familiar face,
One lost in the quiet we both share.

In her I see the friend I knew,
Like a mirror held to memories gone,
The keeper of truths that slowly withdrew,
Like the light before the lingering dawn.

Now, when the night is heavy and hushed,
And the world rests like a whispered tune,
I wait for the owl’s solemn song,
As if it could heal the wound of the moon.

But the silence stays, sharp and sure,
Like a blade that sways through tender time,
In the heart of night, where the owl flew,
And in the silence, I find you.

Manicured Neglect

by Gbolabo Adetunji, posted in Neighborhood

In the heart where the magnolias sigh,
Where streets wear the blush of dawn’s shy light,
Lies a “Good Neighborhood,” a pearl in the shell,
Yet beneath its gleam, shadows dwell.

White pickets stand like sentinels tall,
Guarding whispers where the echoes fall.
A world manicured, poised with grace,
Yet time reveals the cracks it can’t erase.

Children dance where lilies bloom,
In gardens where dreams brush away the gloom.
But behind each door, a silent refrain,
Of longing to break the chain.

Eyes like hawks, tongues like knives,
Carving out lives with hidden lies.
The pressure to blend, to bow, to mold,
In a tale that’s grown too old.

For all its sheen, this gilded cage,
Holds fears penned within its page.
The fear of fading, of falling through,
Of shattering the myth they knew.

A “Good Neighborhood,” with all its glow,
Can plant seeds that may not grow.
But beyond the gates, where the wild things breathe,
Lies a truth that asks to be believed.

Beyond the veil, beyond the stare,
Lies a land where the heart lays bare,
Where a “Good Neighborhood” might miss the grace,
Of a life lived in an honest place.

Blind Light

by Gbolabo Adetunji, posted in Light

Among the ten thousand things, we seek the light,
In every choice, a path unfolds anew,
Yet in the end, it’s love that’s hardly right.

Through winding roads and days that turn to night,
We chase the dreams that time cannot subdue,
Among the ten thousand things, we seek the light.

Our hearts may wander, caught in endless flight,
But in the quiet, truth will pull us through,
Yet in the end, it’s love that takes on a fight.

The world is vast, with shadows taking flight,
But hope remains, a constant, clear, and true,
Among the ten thousand things, we seek the light.

In fleeting moments, wisdom brings its sight,
Revealing all the ties that bind and glue,
Yet in the end, it’s love that leads us right.

So as we journey, choosing dark or bright,
Let every step be one that we pursue—
Among the ten thousand things, we seek the light,
Yet in the end, it’s love that guides us right.

Heavy Hollow

by Gbolabo Adetunji, posted in Life

This was once an empty bowl,
hollow as a whisper in the dark,
carved from the bones of forgotten men,
left to gather dust in the corners of the world.
It lay still, indifferent,
waiting for time to prove itself meaningless.

Years passed, and the winds howled,
carrying the debris of fleeting ambitions,
layer by layer, like empty gestures, they settled,
filling the void with vanity and pride.
Each grain a moment grasped and lost,
a futile chase after shadows.

The rains came and went,
eroding the shallow marks of desire,
smoothing the edges worn by grasping hands,
until the bowl was not just a vessel,
but a reflection of all that was wasted,
holding within it the false promises of eternity.

Seasons changed, and the sun,
with its indifferent gaze, poured light into the bowl,
exposing the emptiness that still remained,
highlighting the hollowness of countless dawns.
The bowl began to overflow,
not with meaning, but with the echoes of futile pursuits.

Centuries later, the bowl was full,
not with wisdom, but with the weight of human folly,
the laughter that masked sorrow,
the love that was bartered,
the dreams that crumbled into dust,
the endless cycle of reaching and falling short.

This was once an empty bowl,
but it took hundreds of years to fill,
with the echoes of wasted lives,
and the silent cries of the unfulfilled.
It now holds the world within its curves,
a testament to time’s indifference, to life’s vanity, to us all.

Crowded Solitude

by Gbolabo Adetunji, posted in Letting Go

Alone has always felt like an actual place to me,
A narrow road winding through barren hills,
Where shadows cling like whispers to the stones,
And silence echoes louder than any cry.

I walk its paths, familiar with the dust,
The way the wind sighs like an old friend,
Carving secrets into the rugged earth,
Where nothing grows, but everything survives.

The sky here is a bruised and endless stretch,
Heavy with the weight of unshed tears,
And though the sun may blaze in its descent,
The coldness lingers, deep beneath the skin.

But in this place, I am both lost and found,
At home within the solitude I fear,
For here, my thoughts can breathe without restraint,
And in the quiet, I can hear my soul.

Alone has always felt like an actual place to me,
A realm where I am neither seen nor known,
Yet every step I take is etched in time,
A journey that only I can claim as mine.

Cold Heat

by Gbolabo Adetunji, posted in Uncategorized

The Last Ascent

I stood where sky kissed earth’s embrace,
A final step, the journey’s trace,
The sun dipped low, a golden thread,
Woven in the trails I’d tread.

Each mile a memory, etched in stone,
In the quiet heart where I walked alone,
From desert’s blaze to mountain’s chill,
Through valleys deep, and up each hill.

The Mojave’s heat, a fierce embrace,
Had left its mark upon my face,
But I pressed on, with dust in stride,
A wanderer with nothing to hide.

The Sierras, tall and crowned with snow,
A world of white, a soft halo,
Where every step was light and pure,
A test of will, a heart unsure.

In Oregon’s green, where whispers played,
Among the trees where shadows swayed,
I found my soul, in mossy dew,
And knew this trail was life anew.

Washington’s rain, a cleansing tear,
Fell soft as I approached the year,
The end was near, the path grew clear,
But with each drop, I shed my fear.

At last, I stood on the border’s edge,
A line that marked a solemn pledge,
To carry with me, come what may,
The spirit of the Crest, each day.

My boots were worn, my body sore,
But in my heart, I’d found much more,
The trail, it seemed, had shaped my soul,
A journey’s end, yet I felt whole.

I turned to face the path behind,
With every step, I’d come to find,
That though this hike had reached its close,
The trail within me ever grows.

For in those miles, I’d shed my past,
Each breath a moment made to last,
And though I’d leave these peaks so high,
The Pacific lived in my sky.

So with a sigh, and heart aglow,
I took my final step, slow, slow,
And whispered to the endless trail,
“I’ll see you in the morning gale.”

Puzzling Clarity

by Gbolabo Adetunji, posted in Uncategorized

In a quiet little town, where the sun’s golden light,
There lived a young dreamer who stayed up through the night.
With questions unending, his thoughts ran so deep,
He wondered and wandered, while others would sleep.

Chorus:
Oh, if you wonder too hard, you’ll get everything wrong,
The truth in your heart might not last very long.
For answers aren’t found in the endless abyss,
Sometimes it’s the simple things that bring you to bliss.

He questioned the stars, why they shimmered so bright,
And pondered the moon, as it danced with the night.
He wondered why flowers would bloom and then fade,
Why happiness always seemed distant, delayed.

Chorus:
Oh, if you wonder too hard, you’ll get everything wrong,
The truth in your heart might not last very long.
For answers aren’t found in the endless abyss,
Sometimes it’s the simple things that bring you to bliss.

He sought out the wise, those with knowledge so grand,
But the more that he learned, the less he could stand.
For wisdom, he found, is a burden to bear,
And sometimes the answer is simply not there.

Chorus:
Oh, if you wonder too hard, you’ll get everything wrong,
The truth in your heart might not last very long.
For answers aren’t found in the endless abyss,
Sometimes it’s the simple things that bring you to bliss.

So he sat by the river, the water so clear,
And let go of questions that once brought him fear.
For life is a mystery, not meant to be solved,
But lived in the moment, with problems resolved.

Chorus:
Oh, if you wonder too hard, you’ll get everything wrong,
The truth in your heart might not last very long.
For answers aren’t found in the endless abyss,
Sometimes it’s the simple things that bring you to bliss.

And the young man, he smiled, as he watched the day end,
For the simplest truths are the hardest to bend.
He learned in that moment, not all thoughts belong,
For if you wonder too hard, you’ll get everything wrong.

Elusive Chase

by Gbolabo Adetunji, posted in Uncategorized

In the heart of Ecuador, where the Andes rise,
Hummingbirds dance beneath sapphire skies.
They do not linger, nor do they pause,
But dart through the air with a flicker of claws.

Emerald feathers and ruby throats gleam,
In a world where the colors of nature dream.
Each blossom a promise, each nectar a prize,
They sip and they hover, then swiftly they rise.

No patience to wait for the sweetness to find,
They seize every moment, leaving nothing behind.
In the land where the mountains kiss the clouds,
These tiny birds live, bold and unbowed.

For in the fleeting, in the rush of the flight,
Is where they find joy, where they burn bright.
Ecuador’s jewels, in perpetual haste,
Prove that good things are captured, not chased.

So contrary to those who idle and wait,
The hummingbirds know that time won’t abate.
They teach us to move, to reach for the sun,
For good things come to those who run.