Saying it doesn’t mean anything until this happens!
What can be more silent than a piece of poetry without a picture?
What can be so unattached than a dark poetry?
What can be more misleading than a picture attached to a piece of poetry?
A Prophecy is not always information,
Neither can a poetry always be a prophecy,
The silence of the latent worded meaning is the beauty of Poetry herself.
Its “abagadara” (Magic)
Niether is it “Ra ba ba” (Praying in the Spirit)
And there is one language of poetry,
Its never an Earthly language,
But the heavens mumur it efficiently,
Thanksgiving while the storm persists,
Thanksgiving when nothing is moving,
Thanksgiving when I give up?
That the series of confusion wrote a script for me,
That the thorns of pain embrace my soul,
That the endless siege holds firm,
Take my thanksgiving,
I still can write,
I’m surrounded by family,
Nara Nara eh
That she said ‘No’
That I’m offended at her disapproval,
I tried to make them see the BIG PICTURE and they had a glimpse
And refused to yield
Isi ikendu eh
I don’t have be a prophet to know this will happen
Or that not knowing that poetry is a silent prophecy
Will be a mishap
But for poets that know this code