Chalkboard General Poem by Shachia Oryila

We now roll out the drums
Amidst fine songs and dance;
Let champagne pop out and
Palm-wine bubble with freshness
And with stomachs filled with
Fried chicken, fish and beef
We share small talk and chop
As we wash off this tortous road
To become a Chalkboard General.

This isn't a party for recants
Lest you fill our eyes with tears
Or your heart aches and loathesome
About the roughness up the road;
Of fair weather friend or top General
Who, in his swamps of torments
Peered at you with magnetic lorgnette
And for a moment felt a swab
Leaving your sinus cavity beneath
Cowed by the growls of unwelcome
As you stepped into the office
To seek answer to a knotty puzzle.

It's a party of endless chants
With music, drumming, and dancing;
ceaseless clapping and stamping of feet
By friends, well-wishers and family
Honking and nodding in affirmation
To the deeds of the On-High. Today,
As you sit beaming with smiles
Some dancing kukure, others alanta
Yet others makossa and Gangnam Style
Your tutors are thumping their chests.