Essayist-in-residence Kabu Okai-Davies waxes lyrical on his relationship with poetry.
The pleasures of poetry rest within the lingering sensation of memory, left behind in the infinite spaces of the mind. Like trails of star dusts, every poem makes love to the reader behind the dark shadows of secret desires. Poetry is like a lover, slipping away after the pleasures of the previous night have come and gone. Only to awake at dawn, to realise it was a dream. At the same time, there are poems that speak of darker dreams, shifting shadows and dissonant voices that echo when the primordial ghosts of memory roamed this ancient earth, haunting the imagination with tales that frighten children in their sleep. These poems speak of worlds empty of love and a bard is walled in by the enigmatic shadow of our human plight.
As a poet, I am aware of the corrupt and cynical…
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