Tony Adah

My Mother

I am playing
Back the times
And I remember
A huge broom made
From the many fingers of
Palm fronds swaying behind her hut.
It swept clean her house
And it swept clean my character
The very fingers that whipped my
Ways into shape
When foibles came knocking
On my door
And today I am clean.
When I yawn for sleep or hunger
She will rock me on her laps
And lull me into death's brother house
Or offer stuffs that made my belly fill.
In times of flight
From the conquer of peer punches
She clean my tears and made me
Sit beside her near the fire place
Where faggots made corn
To shoot its bomb and pears fizz
From the heat of the fire
And we had a consoling meal.
On the day dad's temperament
Caught up with her
She wept all day so sad I feel
Like joining in her melancholy.
I remember her swollen eyes,
Swollen limbs and swollen face
And what professor Odigwe said-
Oedema and the pumping engine was malfunctioning
On a wednesay
And a call from prof. himself
She bought a farm!

Submitted: Thursday, July 31, 2014

Topic of this poem: Life

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