A Poet Is Not A Griot Poem by Tony Adah

A poet sits before a flickering candle
Before him his scroll and beside him a pot of ink
In his hand a quill
His nostrils black with the growth of soot
A griot sits in the palaces of kings
Before him his songs of praise
And his wares of compensation
A poet is not a griot
Like a stinging caterpillar
Is not a harmless one
Still the poet all the times sting not
For he scribbles on his scroll
Things of love and things of beauty
That does not make a sycophant
In the palace of the world.