Explained -The Mad Village Poet -5

English: sun behind clouds. Français : Le sole...

The president of Nigeria, Goodluck Jonathan, a...

The president of Nigeria, Goodluck Jonathan.

Please refer to my post @ https://ifeelshadows.wordpress.com/2012/07/16/my-idyllic-village-experience/ for a background to the story.

Original(O): The days skip by,
Without the ticking of the clock.
Explained(E): it was just an expression to show how fast time ran (ahead of the normal 24hrs). Contrary to what one might expect in such a quiet setting, I actually got so busy I had to near-strictly schedule every activity so I could make out time. You can find out more from the background story.
O: Can the Physicist take notes, please;
Whilst the Chemist sits still, watching?
E: Time itself is a physical concept. One also observes Physics in the motions of the clock. However, from O’level Chemistry, one remembers the origin of “a second” is from the cycles of a Caesium atom.
O: When will the bored boring poet stop;
And begin to grow?
E: Well, I wasn’t actually bored in my daily activities. But I like to think of my musings as boring at times: same lines of thought, same cynicism, etc. Secretly, I love the villagelife halo to it, though.
I hoped I would leave this phase when I left the village. But, should growth be defined by the environment?
O: How good life is,
When you can go through it lying on a family bed?
And the rays of the sun are enough to warm you up.
You never have to excersise your muscles.
Hope your heart doesn’t follow suit!
E: I had a kingsize bed that is bathed with the warm early morning sun. You wake up into that brightness and you feel without a care in the world; you stretch your limbs on the huge mattress and you feel you are ready to take on Giant Atlas or Superman.
But, if you resort to a sedentary lifestyle, you will be paving way for cardiac failure. So, get your muscles working, and keep your heart muscles working.
O: Life has been fair to me of late.
Now, I can at least lay some claim to sensibility.
E: Comparing with my earlier mad rants, one could notice some structure to my thoughts. They tend to be cohesive and not picking many scattered bits of words and ideas. That was even why I had to be interpreting my rants.
O: Who can teach the naïve termites,
To find some other place to attack besides my cottage?
E: The termites dominated every small hole in the walls; they laid seige to the the couches, but we stopped them in time; then they set their sights unto the ceiling, ravaging at the edges. It was a never-ending battle till we left.
O: I wonder if President Goodluck Ebele Jonathan,
Has a place for them in the new minimun wage scheme;
Knowing they were exempted from the Poverty Alleviation Scheme.
E: I should keep my lips sealed on this one.
O: I wake up every morning into brightness,
As the clouds come knocking on my window.
E: On most mornings, the weather appeared so wonderful you literally felt you awoke close to the wonderful bright early morning clouds. This is plainly true; and is not a poetic exaggeration.
O: I wonder how many hours of sleep the sun gets,
Whilst we humans complain of insomnia.
The perpetual story of the weather here!
Yet some would call me a fair-waethered breed.
E: It was mostly sunny there. It was hard defining dawn because the sun seemed to be in a hurry to start the day, yet it took its time once up in the sky, patiently heating up the weather there. You had to cover yourself as much as you could from the heat. Don’t think you could allow for the breeze, because the breeze was hot and unpleasant. And you didn’t have to worry about sweating because the air was so dry sweat couldn’t form on your skin before it evaporated.
Introducing me: a slim, light-brown young man who against people’s expectations could withstand the worst of heat and the most painful of colds.
Nice to meet you!

One response to “Explained -The Mad Village Poet -5

  1. Pingback: The Mad Village Poet -11(Original) -END « Enchanted pen

Even the most absurd thoughts can't ruffle this Enchanted Writer. Spill, please...

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