Ronke, Ibironke Poem by Johnson Emmanuel

Should I call your name in love?
I shall call it beau Ronke,
And carve it in statue of dust
Finer than the brass of Nupe
With hands silker than the silk of China
Which shall compel posterity
To deify you.

Should I sing a song for you?
I shall sing Ronke
All thru the chorus, refrain
The verses and the punchlines
With eulogies that can convince
The dumb mouth of time
To tell man of his morrow fate
And make death dance bata
With life.

Ronke, Ronke, Ibironke
Your name is the flower
That shines with a golden fame
Gleaned by the sparks
Of beauty condensation
With virtues girded tenderly
Upon the benin doors of
Your heart.

In your white potato eyes
Love dresses your pupil
With her damask,
Which makes me stutter
My love for you in excitation,
And in the roundabout
Of your guava lips,
I can see womanhood
Adorned with the bracelets
Of royalty looks.

Ronke, Ibironke....
Your name is a full stop
To sentences of strife....

And should I write a line for you
I shall write RONKE
which immortality
Shall read with delight.

In the music of your voice
Life dances a tango with joy
And in the whispers of your silence
Friendship preaches on the altar
Of respect.

Ronke, Ibironke....
Blessed be the womb that conceived you
And eternal blessed be the heaven that shall accommodate you.