Niki Nicholas Nkuna
I entered the board room, looked at the walls
And saw a lot of 'Is' decorating the walls,
Through the eye of my mind,
Un-captivating, almost an uncared for, rose garden,
Withered flowers reminiscent of the drowsy,
Eyes of my colleagues,
Past meetings full of ‘I' drink, intoxicating,
Yesterday - today, tomorrow,
Ears and heads incapacitated to full bloom,
My colleagues sat there,
Looking stupid and stupefied,
Dishing out plenty ‘I' drops
And eardrops to the audience,
Is the manager's forte,
The ‘Is' cubes are noisy in the packages,
Cold and icy enough to be untouchable,
To the amazement of the audience,
The manager enjoys them without a flinch,
He seemed to relish them at every gathering,
Where he's the master of the bar,
With a fake grinning smile,
He crushes the cubes for all to hear,
Unfortunately the ‘Is' have become distasteful,
Inaudible to the audience, except the package,
The manager could hear himself loudly and clear,
The ‘Is' have occupied almost all space in the room,
And even the package from whence it came from is refilled,
Audience ears plucked with ‘Is' and can take nothing anymore,
The manager is a relieved man,
His mouth grinning from side to side,
Notwithstanding the sombre mood of the audience,
The ‘I' was the weapon,
The manager's eyes and mind, nonchalance to the situation,
He felt good to have a big chest,
The sharp edged ‘Is' served their purpose,
To the manager's satisfaction,
The audience drowsy, haggard faces,
Tortured beyond past meetings,
Are shovelling themselves back to their stations,
Heads bent down, pumpkin crops burnt by summer heat,
The manager's chest and head growing big and bigger,
Keeping him straight to ignorance,
To hear himself he had to hit the chest drum with pride and say'
‘Now they know who I am, '
‘Now they know I'm wiser than all, '
‘Now they know I'm the cleverer manager, '
‘Now they know I'm the best leader, '
‘Now they know I do much of the work than anybody else, '
‘I have done this and that, me alone, '
‘They must talk about me, me alone, '
Alas! ' he tripped on an ice cube, in the silence of the room,
Banged his head against a table,
The big head cracked and the ‘I's fell out onto the floor,
The surgeon never knew about the' Is, '
And stitched the head back to normality,
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Comments about this poem (‘I' by Niki Nicholas Nkuna )
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
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