EVEN | By Kayode Taiwo Olla & Carolyn Banks


I wish we could go to the beach

and watch the sun turn bleach orange

but I hear you hate orange.

If you hate orange, would you also hate my ranch?

 

I wish we’d love the hum’n color of dark

or yellow — like peach, like oranges

like bare twinberries round and succ’lent …

and forage seedbed in your range!

 

Spare me this heartache

and please take my offering

a basket of figs

and please push me not away.

How long would you remain a stubborn lover?

 

Oh… this hardbark me is needy softcore within, baby!

This macho bass from beneath broad shoulders

is inward tender tenor husky with masculine longing…

long muscular longin’ spared, by you,

of entry access! Push me not away.

 

Eve… why are these leaves

of fig? Lemme def’ower and deleaf

you, relieve you of eaves,

go right inside… my Eve!

 

How long will the tears sting the eye? How long;

and what cost is the lot of love? Tell me,

callous friend! Being of li’l worth!

But please I pray in goodness’ name,

that you dash the ego against a rock

and for once, behold me!

 

Goodness me…! Hey girl, your soft-spoken swords

are twice a Sisera’s hostess’ refreshing milk

drink and sentencing peg nail — and twice an

Abigail’s remorse-stirring valor and endearing

and virtue — that you have rock-drilled deep

hard into a man’s temples of fevered

imagination! Goodness, oh

goodness me…!

 

Aw now, c’mon, staunch

this tear in your eye, my Eve.

And do not nail my headstrong

head now, please, Evelyn,

for I’ll say: Let us rather not go

to the beach this evening

where songs and sons may bleach

like beige colors of eventide:

 

but come back with me to Eden this eve,

my dear Evelyn — and let us there carol lines

of love sung to carillon tunes, my Evelyn

Oh baby girl, come back with me, this evening

to God’s Garden, to the love seat

to our Eden, my Eve …!

 

My, wrapped up in the arms of him that calls

himself stubborn — oh my, the softcore

of himself is tightly under my arms!

 

Oh, passionate love that rides on

a golden chariot, a war, a battle of words.

Ah, they have paid and now I recline myself to Fate …

 

• • •

 

[A part of Kayode Taiwo Olla’s virtual tour collaborative composition project series, created by each of collaborating creators responding spontaneously and creatively to foregoing lines entered by the other(s). Compositions are made via emails, phone calls and chat messages.]

 

Collaborating Voices:

Italics: Carolyn Banks

Regular font: Kayode Taiwo Olla

 

PROFILE OF CONTRIBUTORS:

 

• Carolyn Banks | Kayode Taiwo Olla
• Carolyn Banks | Kayode Taiwo Olla

Carolyn Banks studies English at the University of Lagos, Nigeria. She is freelance writer, a poet, a songwriter and a lover of anything art. She lives in Lagos, Nigeria.

 

Kayode Taiwo Olla is a graduate of Literature in English from Obafemi Awolowo University, Ile-Ife, Nigeria. His second and latest work (Dec. 2013) is Softlie, a collection of love poems spun into a story. He keeps a profile blog at http://www.kayodeolla.wordpress.com and manages a literary and art site at http://www.braveartsafrica.com. He shuttles between Osogbo and Ibadan, Nigeria.

 

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