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My Kings man – Awe Jesujoba Isaac


A peculiarity in a super-colossal bevy,
a giant well-built, strong as a bison,
snug as a bug in a rug, my knight in shining armour,
witty, impalpably spellbinding and prince charming,
with an ardent face out-looking like a blissful lily,
his face was often lit up by a smile like mild light, glad as dawn to me.

Salvation is all I feel in my bones, at your touch,
whenever your fingers run gently through my hair.
Each anecdote, each cliché of the long and short of it,
every precept you propose to the young and old, my treasured cornerstone,
is worth a king’s ransom; I feel like a daffodil as such,
when I’m with you, I’m far-flung in sheer brilliance like a pale Bourguignon.

Louis, you are the sunshine that spurts after the stormy rain,
the dust that swirl up in convulsion against a sky as clear as sapphire,
giving that unique, relishing scent in a gratified adulation.

My ultimate end, my hero, ever agile as a leopard,
your voice soft as a tune that one knows, sounding like brass chains
with vibrations quivering like harp strings struck by the hands of a master.

My night light, his jealousy is fierce as the fires;
he gaits meekly, thus the sky puffs out confetti
as keys and strings lead his regal majesty
with fine mérlot in an icy cold can, frilled on a flora platter.
As midnight decisions, mi pedacito de cielo, I yearn for your desire,
and this is why I love you unchangingly, my kingsman.

– ‘Jọba

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