A Capricorn Child

Joram—

Myriads call him

In the tongue of Shakespeare.

Son Smoother—

He exists

In the tongue

Of those whose soul ink spills.

He's a Capricorn Child—

Diligence, focus

Charming strictness

And self-validation

Are the hues

That color his throb.

I know

Of such a soul—

The Cosmic Flagrance 

Whom my soul knows.

He holds

With his diligent hands

The steering wheel

Of Car-Freak Motors.

The soles of your shoes

Won't swallow anymore

Pebbles and ballast—

The rubber of wheels

Which can't

Will do instead.

Hey Capricorn Child!

See, your sun rises

Marking an ignition

Of a flaming enthusiasm.

How exhausted

Your soul has been—

Wallowing through

The terminal phases

Of your twelve–month cycle!

The cakes, the gifts

And the blissful music

Are the bouquets

That adorn

This great day

You descend

From among the stars.

This man

Who spills ink

From his soul

Presents to you

A gift of poetry

Wrapped in a box

Of best wishes.

You're a beam

Of a light invincible.

I, the moon child

Wait with impatience

For the brightest moon

So as to dance

In its bright darkness.

For now

I will dance

Like a calf

In the morning sunlight

And celebrate

The miraculous rise

Of the Capricorn child.

© Sea-Crab Poetry.

#Voyager of Words.

#Quill of Chaos.

More Info

Sometimes, a poet sees a good thing in a particular soul, which they eye as precious seed to broadcast and birth a number of gems in it.

This poem is an appreciation of a Kenyan spoken–word artist based in Mombasa, a homie and a childhood friend, Joram, who deals in automobiles at Car–Freak Motors, as a birthday gift.

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