Hot and Cold
Hot and cold.
Life’s simple code.
Before success untold.
I laid still to catch my breath between the fire and a feel of ice.
Burnt in half as the offering, I was half to the ground ashes.
Numb, mute and frozen Still was my other half.
I became poison and was spit out the mouth for I was neither hot nor cold.
Memories of dilated love
Left your space unoccupied,
Defiantly resisting space and time,
Still I rise by the hot and cold feel of your palms.
Its hot and cold like the swift turns and returns of fate and faith
Certain like a northern star
Deepening like a poet’s hole of homes
Same dent of fire when in pain…same pour of waterfalls when soaked in green joy
I know how it feels when December visits Jos,
just like the still breathe of Lafia.
Peace my words, please find peace.
So your sons will know you came from a Patrick Watson’s verse.
Oh my, this is too hot for me. I cannot stand the heat.
So you go off…be lost to me. I am now nursing chills.
What happened to the in-between where things are nice and sweet?
Here’s to burnt clothes, burnt hair, burnt skin and my frostbitten nose.
Only an oasis can tell the complexion of the desert
Only the moon can paint the glamour of the sun
Where is the loss of a broken heart when love rewards it?
Where is the pride of death when life betrays it?
We always start up great, passionate, intense,
Poof! Your countenance change, distant, aloof,
Swinging back and forth, a habit I despise,
Sometimes I think I know you, other times you’re just a blur.
A thin line there is between love and hate.
Thinner between tea and wine.
Thick between fruits and fries.
But thicker when it’s hot and cold.
A bout of malaria held me down
Limbs and joints in the chains of weakness held.
Away with the weariness of the sudden illness
I bravely scribbled a four-liner, breath blowing hot and cold.