X: the Voodoo of a Master-Bard
We all saw the magic streams
Flowing by the current of his face like Niger;
He never heeded the whispers of the lads
Nor noticed the murmurs of the lasses;
Else those vain sweat-vapours
Dared not brim the banks of his vacant eyes;
Darest V.C.,
The song-speech is still on memory –
It was facetious but void!
The soul ate: the body ate not
Those city incantations were exotic;
Those gesticulatisms were as hypnotists
Singing more than the bard himself;
The song made a fantasy of the burdens
Forgotten in a field of lollipop and lotus;
From hysterics mourners almost danced!
Copyright © Canny Amah | Year Posted 2009
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