Hi everyone, day 3 of all poetry ... Today poetry will be about the prodigal son or the lost sons of the Nations.
PRODIGAL SONS
My sons are not born to be robbers
No,they are not
My daughters are not destined whores on the red zones
I'm sure they are not
My woman are not made for begging on every high Street
It's certainly true
My men not destitute for Sabongari
Oh! Not their lots
Kings they are, queens they are born
Princes and princess for the palace.
What the made me a show piece of ironies?
Best of brains, yet worst of character
Business magnates, engineers, accountants, worldwide acclaimed
419, crooks, fraudsters, Yahoo plus plus
Students, drivers, million naira found returned
What a mix of the best and the worst!
Oh! What a mix of the best and the worst!
Water oozes from my frame freely
Yet my off springs languish in thirst
Like a groom deprived access to his bride
Sun shines on my face daily but useless
Political Chambers, arena of pugilists.
The cocoa I desire to nurse
The groundnuts I'm dying to nurture
The tall palms I cherish on my face
The roots and fruits that were once my joy
Where are my yam, my corn, my cocoyam
My maize, my varieties of beans.
Bare, fruitless, barren I lay low, depleted
Frames that once scratched my back soothingly
Abandoned me, ageing, unattended
Now, doubel bent, crab like okada riders
Impoverished, my beloved mourn their gains
Water that satisfies not their thirst
Robe revealing their naked torso.
I stand looking through the window
Patiently, awaiting their reunion
Prodigal son, estranged fellows
To receive their ring, their shoes, their robes
The fattened cow reserved for them
Run in, be wrapped in my embrace
No offerings demanded to placate me
Just return, thou PRODIGAL CHILD .....
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME IN ADVANCE ( JUNE 19)