The Shepard's Of Arcadia 24 Poem by Felix Emeka George

I have an aunt
Onu'ogugua's my parents sister,
After my parent interment
On her own initiatives,
I have stayed a short span
Of days which was as sweet
To few moons that turned difficult
As she kept me as her daughter slave
I ask for reason
Why human nature is so flexible
and unpredictable,
I had never knew why she changed,
Isn't because I lived with her
That I am turned to a lullaby,
In her baby crying
I am a poor nanny
With my countless song
Which I have composed
To rest her daughter on cradles,
Like a fire danced
I took her child
To be please and mutes

The centre of my head
Like china of mirrors shaved of loads
I have hawked on the stream
On springs weathers
Thus with the fire wood
Where sharp celeries thorn slashed me
As a cold blades,
I have the droplets of sweat
From my face in the kitchen
That starting up more smoke than fire
When I did add thunder
Straddle the wood splinters
It end lighting smokes like
A continues burning of refuges place
Can I blow it to light?
It empties the wind in my inner mind
When I try my hand as fan to flap
The magic wand in hunches
My knees has turned black
Like the bottom of the ravel
My neck craning as the cow's thing
Between their udder
It cannot fall
my jaws apart because
It cannot but be open and close
Because the gum in mouth kike a dried oil
On their joints
And my hands are flagging
All to cook for my aunt children
Who were always in field playing?
Playing in chasing, and in street
And each day I finish's
Fatigue always arrest me
And appetites jailed me in no die-t.