I listened to the year of songs
Wondered on what to sing
A song of choice and preference
From Africa of my childhood
I stopped to laugh at the sound
My baritone booming big
In dialect songs of stories
Of folk lore and moonlight tales
It is now a year of poems
I have a handful inscription
But none of them has got a rhyme
To decipher my native ways
Of African thoughts to English
Like the struggle of the hopeless
A malfunction reflects the dearth
This terra firma bereft of text
More I try to write what I see
Like a muffled stormy miasma
The balance of meters dislodged
In harmonic twirl and rhythm
Leaving me to wonder in awe
If the scribbles inked on paper
Portray what I mean to say
Comments
Brother, I feel your pain and joy
Just because I know English very well doesn't mean there aren't many times I just can not say what needs to be said in the way it needs to be said.
This is actually one of your finest works, brutally honest, the pain palpable, the read mesmeric.
I just know that you are so very close to finding the symbiosis of the English language and your culture and country.
It's been a great honour to me watching your growth and learning,
all kudos to you, brother.
pain and joy of writing...
Though I consider my vocabulary limited in writing generally, I have almost the same restrictions in other areas of art, like drawing and painting, including the one I had a formal training on, drama. My paintings are good though, but somewhat amateurish. This makes me to think that there may be other elements involved in the production of a piece of art work.
This brings me to the nature of self. I am fairly exposed but not a sophisticated person. Without being nagative, I think I am crude and very native in disposition and I see things in 'black and white'. It brings hatred sometimes when I refuse to lie or cover up for wrong doing or go the way of the Jones's.
I crave for mastery in the art of writing poems but my imperfections breed infelicities. The path to perfection is long and seems to go beyond one lifetime, therefore I hope that I will find my rhythm.
I thank you for your encouragement and for the lessons I have learnt by your guidance, best wishes.
tr
Iboro
I see you there, in your own voice and this is the best voice for you to use.
There is no reason for you to be anything other than you.
English though an old language of poetry, is not the only language, that you take the trouble to write in English is a reflection on the world today.
If you take our races today, and their origins then your words are more original than most.
This is well written and a credit to you, good luck in your writing, one day we may see you as one of your countries best poets, Yours Ian.T
...one of your countries best poets,
There are so many good poets around here who are well known. I am not known or seen as a poet since none of my writings has been published. I am grateful to you for being there and for seeing something good in my scribbles.
Yes I have a voice that is unique, This voice requires some training to flow well. Thank you and best wishes.
tr