Sunday Poetry

Stumbled across some great African poetry. Just want to share this with you on a gloomy-looking Sunday in Naija. Happy reading folks! 

I have a dream By Folarin Kolawole

I have a dream.
The trendiest hut of the village, I strive to acquire.
Although, the cowries to buy I have not.

I have a dream.
The Oòni’s daughter, a must to marry.
Although, the cowries for bride price I have not.

The company of the village aristocrats, I strive to belong.
Even if I have to borrow an agbádá to gain acceptance.

I have a dream…

It was a dream…a life it has become.

I have a dream…
I call it a dream, yet it takes away my daily earnings.

Another affluent man, to the villagers I seem.
Some envy me; some even wish they were me.

In the village square, the damsels admire me.
Yet, borrowed damask and Òfì fill my rickety closet.

My shame, with those I owe they pile.
Lies and tricks, my best friends become.

Although, sweet the waters of ostentation.
Yet, deep within, a fool’s dream it feels.
On this, my fears amass.

Uhmm…

My life… a life or a mirage?

This question my future asks me.

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In Isarun Land, So Far Away By Folarin Kolawole

In Isarun lands, so far
hid a timeless orifice
A hole so stygian, inside like the night
A tunnel, ensconced in granite
Air so light, its heart, without life
Temperatures at 40deg Fahrenheit
In past times, gave life, its shelter
11,200 B.C; a home for Yoruba man
So old, far older than Oduduwa
Alack!Liars told us…we’re from Arabia
Na wa!

This cave, so elusive like an abalone
Though narrow, but high its throws
Reposed in a cocoa grove
Alone, so bold, its pose
Our history, it holds, we probed, it told
In silt sands spread below
Lay its numerous gemstones
Chalcedony and flint, as big as the toe
edges as sharp as a hoe…
tools for people of old.

White on the rocks, ashes like snow
from fired pots…we were told
to this, the cave,its name owned:
”Iho Eleeru ni o!”