Magical Poetry

Magical Poetry
Micheal Ace

Thursday, 29 September 2016


Boy, o boy,
You have made mama cry,
by your immature prides.
where is her dry calabash?
you broke with the palmwine.
Sway to my ranting monish,
and say to her 'I'm sorry'.

Haven't you rebuke father?
with words in hidden whispers.
because you thirst for food,
but he made you fetch the woods.
dance your feets to hurry,
and tell his heart you're sorry

Little damsel,
i know you have said to yourself,
now i have like mama's breasts.
she cannot pluck me off men.
But your eyes are too browed to see,
knowledge clutching to her feet.
Knock her door now in haste,
before she opens only in the grave.

Papa loved you, you know?
he glowed your birth in glowing halo.
But why do you murmur in style,
that his time and days has passed.
Though not famed like Lincoln,
He remains an ocean of wisdom.

If Papa is mirror and Mama is gold,
then you are the mirrored gold.
It takes more than life to live,
Plead for blessings under their sleeves.
Have you wrongly wrong them?
Then say, Papa "I'm sorry"
Mama "I'm sorry".

Micheal Ace

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