What I Call It

When the sky’s bowel is bloated
And the angel empties it
In torrent drops upon the earth,
We call it rain.

When the earth is tired of ticking steps
And it takes some time to rest under the shade
of a sycamore tree and closes it's bright eyes,
We call it night.

When the earth is wounded by man’s toil
And its blood pours out,
Splashing and splattering upon us,
We call it volcano.

When the righteous man enters heaven
And takes a selfie with Apostle Paul,
The flash of the camera reaches the cloud
We call it lightning.

When my heart drowns in sweet thoughts of you
And my pulse sounds like a call of your name,
I don’t care what they call it.
I call it love

Ndifreke George writes everything. His works have appeared on Social justice Poetry, The Poet Community, The Antartica Journal, Tuck Magazine, Bravearts Africa, Blankpaperz, Medium, Poems and Poetry, The Parousia Magazine, Kalahari Review and Praxis Magazine. You’re sure to find him either scribbling at a corner, studying, listening to music or playing. If he is alone, then he is thinking of something new. He loves fun and exploring. A geophysics graduate, he is based in Lagos, Nigeria.

Find more by Ndifreke George in the Author Index.

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