A Song From Home Poem by ANTHONY ANIGBATA

A SONG FROM HOME

(to Fela Kuti, Oliver D'corke, Sir Warrior,
Chief Osita Osadebe and our Africa legends of music)

You sang those songs I know so well
Those ones loved by millions from this mountain sides.
Hearts are brimmed with mirth
When you come out with your majestic drummers
Who play those deafening decrepit drums
While you sing those frazzled evening sulphures

But now you have left this shore
So early to the other end where
Chorus chant unending choruses
So I sing your songs half
Lipping the lines to the end
For now those songs are mere whispers
Challenging the shouts of nowadays whizzing winds

So bring me a drum and a flute
Let me play a song from home
Lend me some melodies and soprano voices
That can be heard mountains afar
Remind me of those classic notes of crooners
Who sang sweet solos, ere this rebirth
Of clank-music with meaningless words
So I can set and reminiscence
Those good old days in Africa

When pleasant notes
Mix with intoxicating drinks in our head
At dawn, till the wake of the maiden moon

My lips are parted
In rituals of sacred songs, tried our kind
But they are no longer willing to listen.
For piano and vile violin
Buzz out of even the villages this day.

My voice is raised, yet no one is found
With flutes, trumpets and gurgling drums
Cuddled within their lips and ribs too

Your percussions has no match this day
But gently, gently, gently we have forgotten
Those lyrics that were the bang of those days
Though I love the blend
Of noisy piano with weed-cracked voices
Buzzing from speakers this days
I miss the tenderly notes of true crooners
Who thrilled us there, with some patrimonial tones.