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The Furnace Of Fires

Source: Mr. Adeola Ikuomola

There is my pain on the window pane

There lifeline lain on the country lane

Leaving moor mourning for the moon

Like the goat shacked by coated bears

Flying clowns from the sinking crowns

Like the pieces from the broken beach

Fountains of bitter folly and blindness

They play their lyres within lying spirit

Letters are laurels’ and litters’ interns

Plucked from obscurities and security

The moon marks bear-beads crawling

The skies filled with pregnant cisterns

The sharp morning is a furnace of fire

Hooted in the seas, hailed in the skies

And the herds of castles grazing grace

For sparkling beauties and splendours

Wild and ferocious in the man’s heart

Silently, deceptively in death’s gowns

With the embers of the greed for gold

Men are razed down in their numbers

Every Saint has a past and every Sinner has a future
By: Nana Kwasi Sarpong