Letter To The Gourd I Serve Poem by Tosin Abegunde

The gourd of God,
Filled with wine of purity,
intoxicant of the highest order,
The coolant, the brouhaha,
A factor unavoidable.
A free gift on peaceful conquest
Which the lions alone attain.

Exquisite craft!
With tender mould,
Vessel invented unto honour.
Dilator of the eyes.
Key to joy here,
Gear of pains there,
An idol engraven in my soul.


Its apex is like a tender wood,
Verisimilitude of gold's its neck.
A twin tower in its safe,
With a special box for giants.
The base if like a brass,
Treading on my stream tenderly.
The desire i admire.

Who sees this semi-god?
A shadow like life define,
Mystery of the myth of Eden,
Friutful multiplication order,
Mathematics of divinity.
All for the gourd i serve
To serve my purpose of servitude
In the land of 'laidol' -DEMILADE.