Poem:
Ancestors of the ancient clan,
I beckon,
raise your heads, far and fair
from the endless mantle,
rise to the kneading of the talking drums,
baring proverbs from a new world,
that –
this skies are falling into pieces.
Grab your cloak, Ba-ah-rooh
and be magnificent,
let this intercession be fruitful
as you keep wake in the third heaven,
men have lost touch with your lofty ethos,
I only thought to tell you,
before the reminisce is pulverized by wandering fingers.
Let your infallible throng,
rewrite the legacies of their tender births,
do not wait in vain
and let the world into a kamikaze.
– F.Omosola ( Aperitif, Peach Publishers, 2022 )
