Rumours Poem by Tony Adah

The mill spins them like
Bolls of silk cotton floating
High up in the sky raining
Tales smack of truth.
Falsehood maybe with a taint of truth
Ringing in our ears
And wringing our soul
Anger brews and froths
Like foams of fresh palm wine
Oozing from a gourd.

Bees busy in their trade
Stinging with their blunt stings
And the world gullible as before a fertile soil
To root and spew the mill's
effluent upon the world.