Olugbenga Ayoola.O

(1983 / ogun state)

let the story foretell

I sat on treetop of the world like a bird nest
Looking the celestial bird on the sky of the world
Fly from north to south with wings
And wind blow gently to our nation with peace
Peace circulate our field of the world
Yet our little cattle bird eggs are not hatch
And our table of the world is tremble with fear
So, our affair of this nation is sweet and bitter
Our ancestral drum is soundless to our culture
Thou old man, let story foretell
Because old age know the past
Old age eyes see beyond youth see.
Old age eyes will not deceive
My clan and my niece
Keep the old age world
Place it deeply in blood
before old age bird fly out.
Let our nipper know the night fire.
Thou old man, tell them our night rose.
Let them know our ancestral drum.

Submitted: Monday, February 23, 2009

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  • Ozark Mountain Homegrown (8/29/2013 1:03:00 PM)

    I really enjoyed this poem very much...hang on to your culture and keep it in the hearts of your people...I think times of yesteryear hold so much more that the world we are living in today... (Report) Reply

  • Allemagne Roßmann (4/17/2009 2:54:00 PM)

    'My clan and my niece
    Keep the old age world
    Place it deeply in blood
    before old age bird fly out.'

    The ceteris paribus or central idea resonating in the poem.Let the world know the culture and inheritance from your old and experienced eyes.Let us hope for the cudgel to be given by god to you.Wonderful way of thinking and bent of mind.a 10 from me. (Report) Reply

  • Greenwolfe 1962 (3/27/2009 1:34:00 PM)

    I thought this was a very thoughtful piece about the recognition of what is
    missing from your culture today. The wisdom of the old is needed desperately
    by your people. I sense this in your call. A wonderful presentation.

    GW62 (Report) Reply

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