Posted on February 9, 2013



Let us say we do not walk

                        On the ground plated with oil

For that fear of dry-slipping

                        And ridicule from mates.


Let us say we dance on the coals

                        Red with envy of palm fruit

And our soles left scared

                        Bristles but not burnt.


Let us say now we surrender

                        And publicly hug the devil

And wave with our pocketed hands

                        Will the people verdict


That we were not

                        Different from the giant Iroko

Who didn’t fall for palace’s pillars

                        But end up under a peasant’s pot?



Posted in: Poetry