Our Rustic Charm Poem by Felix Emeka George

A clarion song of the hero has shut down
On darkness heroes of last dust season,
Where the broods, know the sleeping ploys
Brings an eulogy of toil days born to deploys,
The peasants journeyed to the ancestral rail.

There are in old of a quarter moon seasons
Brings a dry season in a copper cloud of pleasure
The dusty and chill weather were of the noon suns
Which allowed the hunting, and moonlight songs dance
To float in a moment of peace and guiltless blues

In ceaseless walk is the wing song bowed to a new day
As many men in a ceaseless walk of an old road done
Like the soldier ants in tail of ceaseless burnt,
Smoking: a clarions song birds on the way of the bush-side
The voice chanting-in eave drops of near and far


In jocund life we life the fertile land of our homestead
Which in field and caesess work in the rain season
And under quarter of life in harvesting: delicious
Because I am George, the riper of the neck bends
Not like that of criminal, which is on joyous pleasant

When the full moon is around the corner, we men
Of ceaseless work and lidless mind in a drunk head of blessed
And to to snuff in administrated a stuff wheeze for us to sneeze
The maiden and the gents are in a harmoniours glamours
Of an animous peasant chant jerky in one tales of moon

As there is no fixed time for ripe girl in our land
When the moon sight her eyes on her two breasts
We have the name of the moons where counted
As of our land there was no fixed name of moon
To do anything we see to the rain and sun seasons of crop

Let me tell you, the people of my nativity, that
In the light of truth, we are not savage nor barbaric
Just because of our gerontocracy and muse of equality in vicar
Why must we need to be you, we are peculiar people
Who in the begging galvanized from toddler and adolescent

We are the cradle of the dawn, were the revolution come through
Let not blindness be accredited to the moon because we are moon
If you ask, I Will tell you why we are at the back wanting
Some harmony of past exploration of honey and milking our land
And the subjugation that has perpetrated on our people now and long

And the debt peonage is militating us greatly
That -orderly and irreversible growth reverse our people
Because of the union -flag of commonwealth in our freedom
In our domain of beautiful as nonsense home of chain
Where the rain of blood pouring vapour on our weath

There is ceaseless distress of tears of blood
Aparts marks on floor. Where ugly bed bugs subterfuge
For blood to drailing in my land tricle-in- and basket
That is out of white elephant in mind of a lull song
As braindrain syndrome and men of strong souls gone

Walk down, down the grave yard and see
There many black saith life from cradles
They have die in a shortened ridges bed in a gapping laps
Where the flashs bids them in a farewell end
Avarious lied with their bone disjointed in hell to rise again

Many season has turn and many has follow
I do not know what you want and waiting
Judgement will not come, because you are saint
Your shrine are forgetton, but in time you in our heart
As you are in grave in many of many of us, come back!