Minstrel

A Literary Blog

INSULATED (THE RE-MAKING OF JOHN GOODMAN)

Why ’twas only

’twas only yesterday

I saw John Goodman lonely

Like a solitary needle in hay

Surrounded by manly

Yet in the midst of none

"What ails thee my friend". "plenty"

" I’ll thank you, kind sir to lend me your gun"

I sat with him to hear a tale

That brought tears to his eyes

"O human nature, how frail"

he had loved a woman of ice

Who had made a plaything out of a kind man

Who finally summoned courage to ask

But, nay, he’d always be her "dear man"

In a confusing answer that took him to task

 

Why ’twas only this morn

’twas this cheerless morning I’m sure

I heard a haughty John Goodman say

As he a good woman scorned

The light in his eyes was long gone

Replaced by the gloomy darkness of rage

It’s over woman, begone

Your tears move me none,

Love, Bah, its for fools

And my wise heart has been schooled.

 

©2008 Dotun Adejuyigbe

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March 12, 2010 Posted by | Dotun, guest post | , | Leave a comment

PLAYAHATIN’ (The story of Mr. Nice)

Sometimes the babes ignore him

‘cos he’s so frighteningly cute

Dependable and honest

All those proper sounding "virtues"

They seek one after another

Their chance with the players

Who look what they are not

And what they may yet not be

Who break their hearts

"To hell babe, your tenure’s expired

Watch their mouth form O

A necessary precursor to the deluge of tears that follow

But hey whad’ya know, Mr. Nice consoles them;

‘cos no matter what he’s always there

And when its time to settle down

When suddenly like a slowly appearing

And suddenly obvious daylight

They find he’s the one

He’s gone like a wisp of smoke

Alas he’s become hardened

Another like him got a lucky break

It hurts so when they come back

In tears with their sorry tales

To good men who have always been there.

 

©2008 Dotun Adejuyigbe

March 6, 2010 Posted by | Dotun, guest post | Leave a comment

LESSONS FROM THE WHITE NOSED DOG ON ROAD 12

I reach out

He runs

Sometimes in circles

Sometimes he comes near

but when I reach out

He runs away

On and on

We go through this everyday

 

Sometimes in the company of friends

He dares to venture near

But alone he’d rather back off

when i reach out to him

and sometimes he barks at me

 

I’m astounded

Who scarred you li’l brother

Why do you run?

What‘s so vivid in your memory

That makes you reach out

And at the point of contact let go

 

It is better nowadays though

with another you come

And only then can you be touched

 

Today I touched your head

And I was surprised you’d let me

watching warily from the corner of your eyes

my hand upon your head

But soon after,

you ran

 

Many a time I’ve watched

musing about the amazing parallel

between you and I

You gave me hope today

Yet you still ran afterwards

 

How long till you trust me?

How long till I trust?

 

I don’t mean to hurt you

But do you know that?

 

You are an enigma

And you are a playful fella

I’ve seen you play with friends

Now I’m supposed to end this all

With a fancy phrase

But the parallel is so large

 

In my minds eye

I sit and watch you

As we sit face to face

Pondering about life as we see it

I suppose then

That this poem will not be finished

But the story will end

Happily I pray.

 

©2001 Dotun Adejuyigbe

September 13, 2009 Posted by | Dotun, guest post | , , | Leave a comment

ON MY FATHER’S DEATH

It is said of Yeats I think

That

What instruments we have tell us the day he died was bleak and cold

Well then the day you died,

‘Twas a roaring storm

That shook the foundations of the entire offshore platform

And made men at sea pray to God to spare them

When an iron structure with roots in the sea bed

Waved in a cruel waltz that made the hair on your head stand

With the anemometer pirouetting in an eye boggling spin.

Yet in me I could not connect it

Till a phone call the next day to say

"Prof. don mud"

Marking my entry into another phase of existence

Some insist it was my initiation to manhood

Was it?

All I knew

As I tried to find the pictures

To understand it with

Was that

Daddy was dead.

 

©2001 Dotun Adejuyigbe

August 30, 2009 Posted by | Dotun, guest post, poetry | , , , , , , , , , , | 7 Comments

THE ROSE AND THE WIND

Yesterday

The rose danced with the wind

 

Many thought it ridiculous

What! with the restlessness of the Wind

And the placid abiding of the Rose

 

But O, the sight remains in my mind still

Of an improbable dream come true

 

For it was just a day ago

When the ubiquitous, shapeless,

Formless Wind

 

Together with the beautiful, shapely, scented

Stationary, thorny, Rose

 

Hand in hand and

Heart to heart as only they could

 

Yes it was yesterday

When the skies lent the moon for lights

While the stars sprinkled the earth showers of golden sparks

 

Then, the Rose,

Danced with the Wind.

 

© 2007 Dotun Adejuyigbe

August 16, 2009 Posted by | Dotun, guest post, poetry | , | Leave a comment

The Minstrel

I come from a family of poets so you can be sure you’ll get to read a lot of poetry from my siblings on this site.  However eventhough we are a family of very cool poets, this site would have poems from my friends and poems submitted by readers as well. My promises are to bring the coolest contemporary closet poets and poems out of the shadows as well as to convience the world that poetry is fun. For now, here is a poem by my brother entitled the Minstrel.  I think it is perfect for the first post on this blog.

 

 

The Minstrel

 

In a land far away

In a time long gone

There it happened

Listen to my tale

 

I am a minstrel

The son of a minstrel and

Rumor has it

That my great grandfather was one

 

I sing then

Of tall trees in the forest

Of birds singing

Of water bubbling in the brook

 

So I sing then

Of a man in love

With his lady and

His music

 

And I sing

Of a town with few people

And fewer good people

Of a tragedy waiting to ‘appen

 

Of the man making the wrong choice

And his lady going to another man

Too late he realized

His music was not all

 

Of the burning of the village

By one so selfish

A world of luxury

Was all he wanted

 

Alas the poor village

Could not satisfy him

So men, women and their property

Fell to a man’s lust

 

Still I must sing

For the selfish man and the broken man met

The selfish for the opportunity

The broken for the consolation

 

To the city they went

The selfish to make money

From the music of a broken man

So broken he didn’t know nor care

 

Their first performance was a huge success

And the selfish man was already seeing

The wine and the women

Alas it was not to be

 

For the broken man

In his music heard

His own tale being told

And whatever had till then supported him

Was shattered to nothingness

 

No food he would eat

No water he’d drink

For as he often said

He had nothing else to live for

 

His friend begged him to no avail

For so soon his dream was fading away

Of wine and women

The man was dying of a broken heart

 

To no avail I said

For one day his friend woke up and

The man was dead

Of a poor choice and a miserable heart

 

I wish I had the  words

To describe his pain

Or to make you feel for him

But I don’t

 

Listen then to my story

The son of a minstrel

The options are many

Choose right

 

The options are many

The paths we tread varied

Each step is a choice

To go or to turn back

 

Your steps go different ways

For each one of us there is a path that is right

A purpose to be fulfilled

Still I’ll say it again

Choose right

 

In a land far away

In a time long gone

There it happened

Listen and learn

From my sorry tale

 

© Adedotun Adejuyigbe (2000)

April 13, 2009 Posted by | Dotun, poetry | , , | 1 Comment