Roses Are Grown In My Village. Poem by John Chizoba Vincent

I could recall the epic journey of my ancestors
With palm oil in their lips and kola nut in their mouths.
They all wore the ancestral rope down on their waist
down the mountain of wisdom and bravery
To fight for the freedom through the ancient call.
Wisdom and perfection were with them.
Courage were their backbone
They were bound to the journey.
They were champions of all time,
Heroes who fought merrily for their generation to come
they Harvested the roses of the paradise and grown them in my village.
Pretty roses, king of all flowers are grown in my humble land.
Champions are breed under a glorified atmospheric condition in my village.
Pretty ladies with dark ski, long hair, pointed nose, beautiful body
White set of teeth and dimples are breed there
Under the motionless passion of love.
Wisdom are made in my home town
Love grows strong in the eastern heartland.
Bravery dwells in the southern home where the black liquid lives.
Have you heard of Chinua Achebe, Wole Soyinka, Niyi Osundare, Femi OSofisan, Olu Oguibe, Buchi Emecheta, SEfi Attah, Helo Habila, Teju Cole, Flora Nwapa, Adaobi Tricia, J P Clark, Ben Okri, OBinna Eruchie, Chimamanda Adichie, Saro Ken Wewi, Akachi Adimora?
They are roses from my village.
With the spirit of 'NIgerism' they stand tall, unshaken
They speak louder and clearer upon the mountains,
They lifted their body and soul to work
And break through discrimination and rejection.
To tell the world that Nigerian could do better.
They were crucified by thought and change
Passion for greatness, air of change, they breath.
There are still undying roses within speaking silently
Waiting for the right time to strike the match box
Waiting for an angel to emerge like the village voice
To speak perfectly to the world.
Roses are grown in my village.