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LanreAdebayoPoems
softly my drum softly your cry softly my drum softly your tears do not ooze yourself dry yet when the maidens’ pots are yet unfilled softly my drum the stick hits gently softly my drum the sticks greets caressingly do not cry yourself hoarse yet when the moonlight has just appeared softly my drum the stick beats hard now softly my drum your tears well up now softly lightly cautiously dripping the witches mother is dead softly my drum the stick beats painfully softly my drum your eyes red stressfully which mouth shall tell that the khaki pocket is soiled with oil softly my drum the stick beats rudely not borne of disrespect but of unbound mouth of a youthful mind that long to say all that eyes see softly my drum show your rhythmic grace yeepa must you call them vermin call them scavengers conmen who call the thieves to despoil and call the owners to arrest conmen who sing the thieves songs of escape before the owners arrive their farms must you call them scavengers call them vermin you town – crier what my drum what shall you call them our teachers whose mothers were witches but wait whatever you call the vampires who parade as teachers in verdant khaki remember one drum that sounded too loud just yesterday when drum stick beat too hard just yesterday the drum was badly torn just yesterday caution my drum caution or how shall we treat the vampires who stand us up at fang point © Lanre Adebayo
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May 8
May 8, 2026 at 11:36 AM UTC
Drum-tears
softly my drum softly your cry softly my drum softly your tears do not ooze yourself dry yet when the maidens’ pots are yet unfilled softly my drum the stick hits gently softly my drum the sticks greets caressingly do not cry yourself hoarse yet when the moonlight has just appeared softly my drum the stick beats hard now softly my drum your tears well up now softly lightly cautiously dripping the witches mother is dead softly my drum the stick beats painfully softly my drum your eyes red stressfully which mouth shall tell that the khaki pocket is soiled with oil softly my drum the stick beats rudely not borne of disrespect but of unbound mouth of a youthful mind that long to say all that eyes see softly my drum show your rhythmic grace yeepa must you call them vermin call them scavengers conmen who call the thieves to despoil and call the owners to arrest conmen who sing the thieves songs of escape before the owners arrive their farms must you call them scavengers call them vermin you town – crier what my drum what shall you call them our teachers whose mothers were witches but wait whatever you call the vampires who parade as teachers in verdant khaki remember one drum that sounded too loud just yesterday when drum stick beat too hard just yesterday the drum was badly torn just yesterday caution my drum caution or how shall we treat the vampires who stand us up at fang point © Lanre Adebayo
LanreAdebayo
Written by
LanreAdebayo
66/M/Nigeria
May 8
May 8, 2026 at 11:36 AM UTC
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