Friday Poetry Blogging

I came to know Wole Soyinka through his dramas, but I came across this poem the other day and thought it was too good to keep to myself. I can relate.

To My First White Hairs, by Wole Soyinka

Hirsute hell chimney-spouts, black thunderthroes
confluence of coarse cloudfleeces - my head sir! - scourbrush
in bitumen, past fossil beyond fingers of light - until...!

Sudden sprung as corn stalk after rain, watered milk weak;
as lightning shrunk to ant's antenna, shrivelled
off the febrile sight of crickets in the sun -

THREE WHITE HAIRS! frail invaders of the undergrowth
interpret time. I view them, wired wisps, vibrant coiled
beneath a magnifying glass, milk-thread presages

Of the hoary phase. Weave then, weave o quickly weave
your sham veneration. Knit me webs of winter sagehood,
nightcap, and the fungoid sequins of a crown.