A Night At The Bar Poem by John Collins Areyayefa

Mother’s shop host many drunk
A fresh morning ends in the tempting call of the evening wine
And many a guest called
Father was a great tapper
The hard vigor, quenched by desirable merriment.
With him, all palm wine hymn flows
“Akokite”, the song they sang
In all pleasantness to their lost souls.
The bar host many drunks
This was a good host until they soak themselves with ethanol
The commander,
And all spoke in his tongue
It stole their soul and everything with it.
It was soul, not belly they filled
Self control has long deserted
And those with it refrained mama’s shop
And no one tell this wrong
Men, lost in this hollow pit
awaiting truth
Like “Otomi”, in the tapper’s keg
I shall stop this madness
But the evening host lingers
Tales of their tapping skills
With all the manly matters
Again and again
The professed repentant returned.
In this mist, all dreams lost.

I cough until I bear the slattern smoke
Smokes along with rhythms of the growling wine
And his throat, dancing merrily to its beat
If I get out of this claws
Add not to my filled cup.
Refrain friends of this kind.
What cost mother a great host?
Its no bountless income but drunkard’s fight
Hosting men of sleeze
Her veiled face opened and
Ends in this broad thorns
And this burden points the flaws.
No more, no more
This bidding foe.

John Collins Areyayefa