For you; I composed a poem, In the form of an apple tree.
A Yew Barries shape it reveals; Its stalks took away my verse, Its roots consumed my rhyme, Its leaves drained my muse of urge.
Here am I, pursuing identification.
Suddenly, wholly on a blank page,
Found, but lost in our prenuptial age.
The Balian blood, clear on the edge.
Remorseless you parked to savagery,
Full of mirth and glee the heyday goes.
Blind to the impending danger that shows.
Pretty Bambota, There lies your doom.
Ndimancho T. Nyowikeh
Done: 30th March 2024
At: Yaounde - Etoug Ebe 9: 02 PM
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem