The Blind Note Singer Poem by Kojo Owusu

Primal gourd – furrowed
Crooked strings coiled
Around a shrill-voiced urn
And the rugged hands that
Caressed it coarsely.

Rude clangor, jingling timbre
Piercing, barbed arrows
Wrenched from his downcast soul
Hovered in anger through the air.

Coingn of vantage, the glued eyed
Singer on the ancient
Threshold unceasingly shot the
Piercing arrows – flies chorusing
His mournful tune.

Rugged clothes, the flies dance
Incessantly to his wild rhythm
A solace to his shriveled soul
The little instrument.

This unending pain
Widespread, hugging us to the
Grave was caused by the
Cruel tyrant. He echoed in the shadowy
He was confined with the flies.



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