By Nwachukwu Egbunike


The waves from the Niger sing

Flowing from deeps

To chants of dirges

For the fading of a prince


Hopping from Oke Ado

To the plains of Potiskun

Nkisi roars with pain

Ado N’Idu is inconsolable


The crimson cap

Carried on a royal cape

With beads of bronze

And twigs of valor


Peering into the future

Carrying the past

Curetting the present

Is the diviner’s feat


Though the garden

Bloomed once with promise

Blighted now with pestilence

The plough never paused


For in those veins

Pumped via valves

Flowed the sovereign blue

Polished with silvery hues


While others spoke

Words were made wise

Fitting of a sage

Flanging off aberrant fallacy



The flame tree

That illuminated

Without consuming

But cauterizing flippant fools


The imperious imposters

Impersonating jesters

Drumming thé dansant

Dregs of a desolate desert


Their vile and bitter theobromine

Undertakers of a stale theater

Drowns not the beauty

That flowed from your bosom


Though you slept with these pains

The insolence of ingratitude

But with your royal fans

You dusted them to oblivion



The garden

Will bloom again

That’s a promise


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