The Talking Drum Poem by Michael Oluwasegun Adesiji

•The Talking Drum•

Beaming in the crystals of joy
One called cowries the palm's soulmate
Facely garnished by golden bells
Sweet jingles of cradle pendulums
Honorarily invited by ecstasy
Depressively surmmoned by sorrow

At the vomits
Of proverbial truths and eulogies
Showers of cowries raining
With sighs and melodies

Sandy feet merrily moved
Hightened shoulders of some skilled strikers
The exhorbitant attires of royalties
Swinging the hunch behind
The beautiful Yoruba ladies

Cosmetically pimped faces
Gaptoothed ladies exhibiting classy pulchritude
With some Tiro-coated lashes
And some peculiarly-shaped hips

Beautiful men seductively awesome
In some Aro-dyled Adire clothings
With their magical landings
On a floor heavily striken

Abi e ri okunri bi?
The crushing maidens profess
The beauty of these kings
With all lenses fixed
On the curves of their bottom lips
Making a contrasting duo
With the immaculate dazzles
Of their white teeth.

Intensed strikes of beatings
Powerful lyrics making swelly heads
Cashless audience cheering
To the triumph of victorious dancers
Palm wine gourds and cola nuts
Righty served

The fading neon-faced sun
Smiles home at the twilight of the dawn
To make darkness come illuminate the fun-filled day

Drums getting muted as serenity beckons
Wholly caps dusted with colourful feet
Set on footpaths home
And the dansiki's partly rolled
Into men thighs getting all freed
Baskets and mats; all getting picked

With these bright dimples
I say to me
Nestled deep in the belly of the talking drum
Lies a mystical spring of an unending pleasure.

©M.O.A
Onyedikachi [The Cub To The Seven Gods]