John Chizoba Vincent Poet Narrative

I Hate Her Voice

What is she singing off, war or peace?
What is she humming of, that made the 
Grasses howled and the trees bent so low touching the ground?
Why would she disturb the peace of the forest
In such early morning with her bitter songs and voice
Breaking the winds and rendering the forest homeless?
The birds stopped working  and the insects went into hiding.
I saw the frog running away from its abode in such a hurry
Nothing chased it but her song and the terrible creaking voice.
I watched the sky swirled in despair 
Then the air wept and ceased.
I heard the voice in my nightmare 
It woke me up from my lonely and humble Bed,
damaging my thoughts and spirit.
So i came out to see who sings,
Behold it was a maiden down the valley singing to her self
A song of sorrow and agony while she sown her 
Is she maltreated? had someone she loved died in the war?
Had they taken her fiance away to join the soldiers?
I thought as i stood watching her in anger.
I hate that voice of agony that prevent me from sleeping.
I hate that voice of sorrow that swirled the sky and stooped the activities of humans and animals.
But i wont blame her 
Something must have been bothering her which i do not know
Yet she work diligently and perfectly in the garden.
I must confess that her diligence to work attract and seized my emotions.

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