Word Of A Poet Poem by Olawale Owoeye

The fear,
Designed in the fainted green of our beaut
Uniform, makes us more matured
In the battle of boundaries of
Weepy war where
Gentle guns ganged up the hills
Facing foreword far from farmlands and
It tongues ready to speak any language
From around the world

Snippers slumbering in ambush over mountains and
Will cries any time waken at bottom,
It will cry nakedly when hit at trigger...
Tru, tu, tu,
Tru, tu, tu
The silent screams of slumbering snippers

Many a machine gun glaring and mourning
For chilled-sweet wine
Fostering the fasting pistol to break with red wines

This is a terrifying terror!

Beneath the mountain alongside the stream...
Lined up naked emotional arrow and
Skinned Spears to emotionally kiss
The flesh of wine and taste from the wine,
From the silky-splash of red wine

Boomerangs dancing up and down to
The song of there silence

And numberless number of tall-build up
Soldiers standing straight

These are real soldiers!

Admist a terrifying terror of tangled jungle
And all these are few in the
Powerful word of the mouth of the poet.