Lost Jewel
The cream of the land has been
slain
And the jewels flushed in the
drain
Tell it not in Abeokuta
Neither publish it in Uromi
Lest the Ancestors hear
and be dumb
Lest the claws of horror glean in
their tomb.
Listen, you cursed bed of
Andalusia!
Let there be no gem nor laces
Be found draped further upon you.
For upon you the
jewel was lost.
You little wood of Lissa,
listen!
For being an accomplice to this
sin.
You have served a million invitation
hence,
To multitude of feet that shall
trudge upon your
silence.
Aug 30, 2020
Aug 30, 2020 at 11:54 AM UTC
Kindirimu maid
By Felix Nnamdi Obiekwe
Morning after morning I wait for her
For she must come from the Plains
Beyond the thousand Sandy dunes
I wait too for her melodious tunes
Composed amidst squeezing and squirting of Udder.
I wait too for her ware, the creamy Kindirimu.
I wait because, without it what else have I got?
She never fails even if the Sahara conducts congress
You must see her adorning her bright skimpy dress
Whether the plains are burning or chilling
There is often a calabash bowl upon her head
And a million accompanying fly's which I suspect
Are more enthralled than I am
This milk maid is a bundle of smiles
The eyes glittering like stars on a hazy sky
Infecting my mood even in miles.
Each time, I behold her I knew that somethings never lie.
Aug 30, 2020
Aug 30, 2020 at 5:56 AM UTC