VOICES WITHIN MONOGRAPHS.

In this library alone I sit,

Quiet and respite I seek,

In shelved thoughts I find my muse,

Every word,my spirit amuse,

In delightful unison,my fingers lift,

The letters ,my eyes caress,

The smell of history, my heart accepts,

But wait,

The silence is no more,

The sweet piercing silence is no more,

Now I hear drum beats,

No, no, heart beats,

Poco a poco,

Forte forte,

Crescendo,

In quandary I turn left and right,

Seeking out the source aright,

Allegro allegro,

Now I hear screams,

Wails and cries,

Tales of agony, stories of regret,

The intent screeching of tires,

The deafening sound of gunshots,

The screams of a woman in labour,

The outcome of vengeful harbor,

My blood turns torrent,

My brain short of current,

Buckling under me, my knees give way,

On the floor I lay, in one drifting sway,

Imagery holds me captive,

My mind a willing accomplice,

In my head, the four cardinal points meet,

North to South, West to East,

I struggle, my body bids me no sovereign,

I want to journey, my mind whines,

Poco a poco,

Poco a poco,

Now all becomes still,

But a presence I feel,

Like rustling leafs from branches aloof,

My eyes flicker open,

Ecce! On the ground in the open,

A smile on the bark catches my gaze,

For trees alike in rows afront,

Hot perspiration flows down my face,

"Indeed here lies our fate,

In shelved Monographs,

Piercing our souls in alphabeta,

The tip of thy pen, history re-writes."

Okunlola Azeezat Olayinka(O.A.O)

Poem Analysis

 The poet being a lover of books, seeks respite in her library as she finds in the pages of books, her source of inspiration. However, the sweet piercing silence that had for decades been the companion of this library,dissappears slowly into the heart beats coming from the shelved books that surrounds her.The poet explains her state of confusion in lines 16-17.

" In quandary I turn left and right/seeking out the source aright"

Louder and louder,the sound  grows,immediately mixed with screams and wails that told tales of agony and regret.She suddenly understands the stories they told.The souls of people long gone imbedded in grown trees on cemetery floors cut down for books,briefing her on the sharp pain they felt when death came to them to claim them and how it snatched their precious lives.The pain of being hit by a car who's brake malfunctioned,the pain of being shot,the pains of a pregnant woman in labour just before she gave up the ghost,the pain of a sharp knife piercing through the heart while asleep.

In fear her knees buckled under her and she finds herself on the floor in the library.She wants to stop her mind from imagining and trying to feel but her mind claims it wants to go on this journey of discovery. Slowly her eyes flickers open and she finds herself in the midst of trees grown in rows and smiling at her.

In other to rid her of her doubt,the trees explain that indeed the library where her body lay,their fate lies,intertwined between pages of Monographs and the tip of our pen ,re-writing stories in alphabets.