Tell Me A Story Poem by Alpha Sanunu Bah

She said 'tell me a story! ',
I told her I knew none,
'Oh quit your fancy folly,
We both know you can be fun.'

You know me all too well,
Your smile to me is gold,
'Well then go ahead and tell,
Your fine lines, good old.'

Okay! My darling bud,
Let me tell you a story,
Let me tell of a girl, good Lord—
that's a beacon of God's glory.

She is as pure as a dove,
Her heart is one of gold,
'Oh, wait! Wait! My dear love,
You certainly are too bold.'

Really...

Well let's see what you'd say
when I tell you how she walks,
when she muster in her heights,
blue gazes on her skin,
The glorious sun, triangulating thoughts
of fanciful beacons, and appetizing shots.

You see, this not a story— no, no!
It is a moving plot,
it is the representation of all beautiful lot,
My lady, I say, is no beauté décontracté,
This is French for gold plated massarati.

When she hits the half patched roads
in her heels made of passion,
And her African botox, with her glorious complexion.
The eyes of myself and the selves with male eyes,
stare at her thighs and her lips of blue lies.

The songbirds and their cries of sweet African rythme,
converts to rap of sugarcoated meaning,
pop songs in praises to her lemons and onions,
and clueless admirers go crazily Tyrion.

But, too bad as she walks then she talks,
then all change,
then the words from her mouth, and the dreamers in range—
Realize the real lies or must I say the real truth?
that she's dumb and she's deaf and she's blind as a bat,
blind as it may, like a rabbit in a hat.

Oh, don't worry, that is just a joke,
Her voice, you see, spread wide like smoke,
It was glorious and magical, melodious and tall,
But, truly speaking, that is not all.

Then she said again, 'do tell me a story',
I told her I knew none,
Oh, not again with this fancy folly,
we both know you can be fun.

And so the girl strolled, I said, with magical stern,
Rushing into the hands of her handsome man,
then they walked, and they talked and every eye went padlocked,
not on the man's fancy watch but on the girl's African botox,
and so my friend closed to me took his freshly bought sheltox,
Psss-Psss, I heard, what is this terrible influx?

Everywhere they walked every eye stalked,
and as they sat down to rest she laid quietly on his chest,
caressing his face and toying his beard,
twisting her knee
such a LMT.

She raised up her head and kissed him in the cheek,
Under her voice—I really am getting moody,
so she went close to his head, whilst biting his tip,
whispering in his ear, she said 'please tell me a story.'