Poetry

MY FATHER’S LAND By Opaaje Alexander Damilola

Written by Editor

See my father’s land
Shining and greenish
like the palm tree planted

Yes, palm tree beside the river
No other, but river in Mississippi
When it dries not…

Day by day flourish In goldic water

My father’s land
Why hath tho refuse us your harvest
Why hath tho withdrew the joy of nature?

Why won’t I?
Why should I give my precious harvest?
To you pagan of believe!

When my sons you have divided
Irrigating me with cold-hot blood
Instead of calm drop from above

The ‘oblical’ cord I bounded you with
Who’s the breaker ?
All, turns it to a tattered womb ?

In making, I made no race
No colour…but a single voice
Deep in your heart, thou gives thought of evil

Our father
We have talked
Yes! To our medulla oblongata
In yielding our souls are ready for peace

Yesterday it was crash
Today, Collapses
Tomorrow, we knew not the coming…

Our father, what should be our doing?
Cos this darken harvest
Is like a serpent in the garden…

Oh yee nation,arise!
Who’s the nation
Yes!you, you’re!

Observe the termites
In their unity and ‘busy-iness’
Nations they’re building

If the serpents could sojourn
In flock
Who’s son of man to bruise their heads?

These are my requests
If only your blind could see
If only your deaf could hear

About the author

Editor

Bada Yusuf Amoo holds B.A in Literature in English from Obafemi Awolowo University, he is the publisher of thespeakingheart.com. He started the website in 2015, he has published both his works and other budding writers and poets on the website. He is a public commentators and his articles are on different websites.