DRUMBEAT

The early morning silence,

Pierced by the melody of the birds,
And coarse craw of the cock,
The bleating of the goats and sheep for fresh fodders,
Squirrels hopping to and fro,
Devouring the ripe palm nuts atop the palm trees,
Leaves glittering from the morning dews,
And the caterpillar found its abode slippery.

The grey hair that breaks the kolanut,
The hot drink that follows to waken the body as grey hairs would say,
The entreaties made to the "Chi",
Local brooms held by the kids greets the brownish sand,
Morning ash cartered away from the fire place,
The palm wine tapper sets out for the day,
Many a thing happened swiftly,
And morning was gone .

The loud sound of the ikoro,
Echoing in all corners of the village,
Beckoning on valours to array themselves,
I jolted out out of my hut,
In my redcap and my flute at hand,
With my flute played appraisal notes,
To announce my arrival to my hero.

Behold the hero,
The lion that kills the tiger,
"Odumnaegbuagu"
The glory of his people,
How strong art thou oh man of valour,
Lets appear in the battlefield ,
For the day is of victory,
Oh! My hero.
  
    
             ANYABOLU IFEANYI GENTLE
               AD 2018,22/07.