Abeke Poem by Folayemi Akande

Abeke!
A sight for sour eyes,
A glocery to distressed souls,
A beautician of smile,
Oh beautiful one,
Adorned with spell
To ravage a man's world
With allure of carressing
In touch gentle slumber.

Abeke!
Your beauty roars like a ferocious Lion
Your beauty tumble rocks down the hills
Your beauty stills the wind
And incline us to the harmony
Of your gentle breath
And runs all men through a tumult of emotion
Abeke!
For men say you are a soul dresser,
Some call you the fig replenisher,
For you hottily undress a man's conceit,
With your crystal charmed eyes of glee.
And lightning, dazzling smile from the forest
Of your irrisistible naked lips,
But i call you a condiment,
The totality of a man's existence.

Abeke!
Some say you are a product of black concoct,
That which was made of Africa's consult,
Some say you are figment of imagination,
Some say you are every man's flight of imagination,
Because you are a descendant of mother nature,
But i say you are just another mother Mary,
With a volumptious sensuality,
That best defines the 21st century's beauty,
And if you happen to be a figurine in a gallery,
I wouldn't mind exhausting a fortune
For a cursory glance.

Abeke!
The priceless beauty of my time,
The great sorceress
That beholds my heart
For all i do care.
Abeke!

I have been looking under rocks,
Breaking locks just trying to find you,
The golden sun told me you went West up the hills,
The silvery twinkling stars told me you went South down the valley,
Even the crystal lonely moon falsified me,
For she told me East was your path;
To the bosom of the lonelies.
But through the echoe of your thin singing voice,
That wanders through the ears
Of the forest's darknight
Which was forthright in conveying your loneliness,
And the ornaments of your wholesomeness
The hunter wind and I sought you on the North river bed,
There, you were tastefully attired in a simple scarlet dress
That lusciously hugs your divinely structured body,
Like the velvet kisses the skin.

Abeke!
Should I say i have never seen a woman
Whose beauty by an ode appraised?
As some say Almighty creator was biased,
During man's creation
For you make men vigil on your consent,
Since tubers of yam and kegs of palm wine
Were not enough a price to trade
For your bridal trail;
Even women against your beauty rebel
Because you are all that is left
Of beauty's tale to tell
Abeke!

So long as age stumbles on age,
And time rides over the heels of my affection
Your endowments shall be scribbled on the forehead of Africa,
And from the feet of our souls shall we appraise your courtly hail.
For you are another story
To be told for ages to come.
Abeke!

You are a beauty beautician!