EPIC SONNETS OF THE GREAT - THE REST OF THE PIECE.

4
OF MARY; THE SONNET
It was faith’s fate on that fateful day; algate.
Obdurate labour be-whelmed the pained ceremonious welcome.
Mortal divinity of exhaustion’s joy.
The uncouth earth was to be the benign moan.
Sky light of impeccable fairness.
Witty deity in flesh, to scorn mortal standard.
This she, Mary most blessed. Elegant in daintiness.
Your dark brown hair is the night around your moonlight face.
The arch of your brow trembles down its line like a troubled waterfall.
Leave not, prithee, this haughty trappings of life without being replicated.
The lady boss, whose smiles ignite the sun. But exile defiant ego.
Throw a glance and turn the gorgon still. That Medusa of a devil.
The vigorous steps of your long gemstones legs wins priceless ogles.
Intelligent Mfonobong. The lush boss in feminine skin.
5
EMIR, IBN ABDULRAZAQ- SONNET
Hell haze, despotic fog from hags’ cauldron.
I cannot see beyond my nose. That flat cave of breath’s way.
Blistering pilgrims’ eyes. That dustful hurricane of the sahara.
The pilgrims stood on. Albeit, laden with weakness.
He comes faint in our sight like a disfigured shadow.
Men of honour, haggard by weight, bear him shoulder high; laggardly.
He is within sight. Emir of the Emirate.
The trumpet blasted in obeisance, the maidens of flowers.
The Emir is seen, as the shoulders lowers,
Walking on the royal carpet like a pregnant elephant of the sahel.
The sceptre of gold embroidered his authority.
He fell; fell on his knees. All mouths agape in shocked splendour.
Before his creator, he fell, for the judicial blessings.
Abdulrazaq! Brother. Emir of his Emirate. Your Eminence.
6
FRANCIS, DUKE OF KEN- SONNET
From the ancient world of the Greek, I summoned.
Hesiod! Homer! Socrates! Come forth. Forth here.
With your little Roman colleague, Virgil, come!
To the Duke’s meeting of ken; at once.
This Duke, dressed in royal damask, sat behind an oak desk,
Teaching those mundane wizened sages their moribund school.
They came, rushing in like the boiling ocean sailing to the mountains to fall
Under that dented mahogany in the forest of dead gods.
They came gathering at his feet; the Duke of Ken.
Preach! They shouted, nay, tell the tale that hides ignorance in the lava of zeal.
They drank from the fountain that flows from your tongue. Went they, relished.
Beware! Knowledge is toxic to the dogs of your father’s house.
Take your world from the dames. Those sore devils.
Francis, Duke of ken. Bask, brother, in your undentable majesty.
7
ILEANWA: BARD AND KING- SONNET
Turn here! Turn there! Hit me not! Let’s kowtow.
No! No floor. Yes flood! Waters divine. Darkness looms.
Whistling. It is the dreaded masked wind. Whistling. Hide behind fears
Ah! The floor, nay, sands. Bow still. We are dead.
No! lifelessly living. Murdered. We are haunted by our morbidity.
Shush! Silence! Silence!! Silence!!!
The field of terror has laid its root in deep waters. Let’s bow.
Hark! The shrieking roar to inundate the atmosphere of livid hate. Ghoulish.
Scamper for shield. We wicked. The fire comes. Slayer of cyberus.
He wades the waters and swirls the wind to trouble the sands.
His majestic steps put life to still. Jungle trampler. The King.
He is seated watchfully valiant on gem throne. The lion pride.
Let the devil take his hell. Die! You stooges, priding infamy.
So I Command. Ileanwa: King and Lord Bard.

8
The sonnets, dearest in less mean to lighten whey-faces.
But let the vilified discontent alive, rid hate in masquerading mien.
Lest be-reckoned his curse in ricochet’s skill. Or I shall pronounce thus:
“Let the senile earth go berserk! Sack her breast of its milk!
The libertines are to be heisted to Hades.
They shall not drink of the river from your breast, oh earth.”
Devil lurks. Hearken! Children redeemed.
Infamous creature in man’s fairest mate. Your stones upon your head.
I berate your vigour with dementia. Your catapult has shot backwards.
Sail safe and berth in tartarus. Hades charwoman. Satan’s lair.
Your love fang surreptitiously carries gloom. Death on you.
Forever in eternal protection of the divine King. God the great.
His pet project, MJ FIRM won. Glory to His majesty.
Our future crest in God’s palm glitters blindingly.

BY: ILE PETER
FROM: NIGERIA.

Many thanks to Mr ILE PETER for gracing us with such a wonderful piece. Do send in your poems,  stories (whether fiction or not) and articles and we'll publish them here. Be well.