All creatures in the thick forest
Bow to pay homage to the little
Creature that shakes the wood.
Daringly sparking the atmosphere
Enthusiastically with a hum-hum tone.
Father! My soul lingers in the jungle of
Gomorrah, roaming around like a
Homeboy banished from his motherland.
Instead of the world to pity my cause,
Joyfully, they make jest and see me as being cursed.
Kolanut is only used to appease the gods of the
Land, since they take me for an outcast.
Mysteries rally around my mat,
Naive gold diggers dig, to suck dugs
Of the wealth whirling around my existence.
Pit of doom awaits professional
Quacks who strip off their clothing to
Renate their unwanted needs.
Slowly, I solemnly scream, weeping out
The hatred my heart harbours for the
Unjust men who hunt me
Violently, ripping off my right to live.
Weak men desert wick, crave for the lantern, then
Xylograph my name in their hearts.
Yes! Seven days won’t pass before my spirit
Zealously avenge the godly evil you desire.
This Poem was published in the July 2018 edition of the WSA magazine. Please click here to download.
Read – The Lion’s Feast – A Poem by Ntube Nnane, Cameroon
