Tell father to come home
Before Aso rock becomes a broken stones ,
His ageing voice we can’t hear on phone
Aisha is tired of sleeping inside the other room alone.
.
Let father come home
Before corruption breaks the nation’s backbone,
Looters are fetching our treasury water with a basket,
Intestines of the sweating workers are not fully fed.
.
For months, London woo your consent for a tour
To heal the headache our local herbs cannot cure,
Dollar arises like erection and refuses to fall ,
Insurgency crept in, without banging our door.
.
Your sudden death, rumour broke into the air,
Coating the empire’s skins with the regalia of fear,
‘Osinbajo prepares to take over the affair
‘Lie-Muhammed telling the folktales of “it is fair “.
.
Your cow prays daily with telsbih, on mat,
For your death will be an end to their grazing grass.
Come home and open our locked border without fright
Our tongue is tired of savouring a stony rice.
.
Tell father to return home
For this weakened body shall be strong like bone,
It’s better to die on one’s father throne
Than to eat the bean cake of death in a foreign Rome.
Beautiful! But let Father come home
To live and not to die!
Your poetry is enthralling. Your lines are too plausible to be doubted. A fine poem which encapsulates the ups and downs of a country. My brother, indeed “our tongue is tired of savouring a stony rice”.