To The Lioness Counsel Poem by Folayemi Akande

Thy metal tongue is industrous than ten pence
Why doth thou lash than sooth with thy steel words?
To what retreat do thy stern grace inwards?
If not the venom of protude incense.

Thy grace possess all that is evil deed
Graceful than thyself is forgery indeed
What doeth thou that thy devil smileth not
Thy infamous grim do make my thought nut.

Who dares rebuke thee, dare devil of mine
The petitions before thou, who dare sign?
Hot sting of thy rage shall melt such a clout
To be kindle in contrast, I vote my doubt.

Host the chill of morning dew on thy lip
Let not thy brow scotch as the sun do weep.