Word Of A Poet Poem by Olawale Owoeye

The fear,
Designed in the fainted green of our beautiful
Uniform, makes us more mature
In the battle of boundaries, of
Weepy war where
Gentle guns gang up the hills
Facing foreword far from farmlands and
Their tongues ready to speak any language
From around the world

Snippers slumbering in ambush over mountains and
Will cry any time waken at bottom,
They will cry nakedly when hit at trigger...
Tru, tu, tu,
Tru, tu, tu
The silent screams of slumbering snippers

Many a machine gun glaring and mourning
To taste chilled-sweet wine
Fostering the fasting pistol to break with red wine

'This is a terrifying terror! '

Below the mountain alongside the stream...
Lined up emotionally naked arrows and
Skinned spears that want to emotionally kiss
The flesh of wine and taste from the wine,
From the silky, splash of red wine

Boomerangs dancing up and down to
The song of their silence

And numberless number of tall
Soldiers standing straight

'These are real soldiers!
Admist the terrifying terror of tangled jungle'

And all these are few in the
Powerful words of the mouth of the poet.