Falcon On The Farm Poem by Chukwuebuka Adebayo

There's a man who sits so calm
With a big empty cup in his palm,
And deep sores in his other arm;
By the roadside leading to our farm.


With white hairs stained by age,
Like the opening of a book page,
We'd run pass your father's village
And schools with all windows damaged.


Sweet and hasty we'd ride,
In the bare wind of the morntide
With Ko! ko! ko! of falcons in nides;
To keep off silence from the other sides.


There's a river full of cockatrices and trouts,
There are black spiders weaving their clouts
And snails that have divided their mouth,
Climbing waste places and trees about.


There are boys on the bank of this river
Axing the rocks with all salts in their liver
They are there for the kernels and silver.
We don't know them and will we never.