PoEARTHic

I want to return to your bosom,mother Africa
Deep into the chaff of your vegetal past
to grow up again
a gnarled poet

I want to return to your past
where your pride stood rigid in a gloomy pose
in front of rivers with tear-spun stares
while i drink Nile from a tumbler

I want to return to the horizon,mother Africa
to explore sunrise
through a passage of unbending dreams
with a stanza of sonnetal beam

I want to, uncompromisingly
tread on the bank
on your pebbled shore
to dance to the rhythm of pulsating tides

And if my mother asks of me
If she misses the metres of my thunder poems
if she wants me to pound the family food
into bowls and morsels of metaphor

Then tell her to look for me
under the sole of her motherly feet
amidst the weeds of unwanted lines
and pour on me Palm oil and water

Palmwine and bitter kola
Or grow up with me again
with a focus
Of unwincing bent.

George O. Victor
The ghostwriter👻
©2018