Let Me Sing Poem by Timothy Faboade

The stream of song in my throat
Barred from flowing like a sea
Dammed to forever in it float
Is howling and humming like bee.

I have a voice of nightingale
To be heard on the hill, land,
In the sky and beautiful vale
Though I come with no band.

The wind is ever free to blow,
Fish enjoys its diving in the ocean,
Let my rhythmic songs flow
And my drums, piano on motion.

All for my musical concert here
In the world of mere words
Are prepared to give and cheer
The labyrinths and singing birds.

Let me now sing I again say
And my voice echoe million miles
Here my lute, tuba and harp lay
In diverse forms, means and style.

Trees, flowers, even morn with ears,
The moon and her companion in the sky
All at me for songs patiently stare
Thinking I could be a sly.

Would these, very agile, lie waste
And my voice in prison for long be?
What of the lines and rhymes I baste?
Let me sing and enjoy the glee.

Million ears and hearts I hope
To please and make so happy
When my beats foam like soap,
Babies ready to dance in the nappy.

So, I say it again, let me sing,
My tongue blessed with songs
Meant for slaves, serfs and kings,
Let me sing even if not for long.