The Song Of Self Poem by A A Umar Udubo

Often a friend wonder
whether pen down this poem?

I say:

for you to ponder
to reach inside out
and let that person play

the style?

because I'm stout
neither senile and I'm not a child
it's thence for you to pile
this is a dance in the mind
glide softly like a child
or you wallow as I climb
'see no perfect rhyme
the poem's still sublime

still... wonder?

I say:

a cue,
from the waltz of my words
the dance of my pen
the rhythm in my poem
the contours of my lines

let the owl in you look
and the lines you hook
to the streaming of my voice
the swimming of my tongue

you, the "he"
you, the "she"
deny this voice
a dive into your inner mysteries