THE MASKED BALL: A POEM

in poetry •  9 months ago

I woke up some minutes into morning and bored, i decided to chat a little. From steemit chat to discord then telegram. Then people slept off, slipped off or called out goodnight like good neighbours after a party.

I was about to shut down and go to sleep but then i decided to write and the poem below came out. I am trying to share Nigerian culture as best as i can, through the medium of expression i am comfortable with.

While writing this poem, i realised something. I am beginning to lose the fun in writing. I am no longer writing for myself but i am now writing to please an audience that is not even listening to me.

I read somewhere that when you write, write to one person. Do not try to impress everybody, just one person. The book didn't say who that one person should be. So i will be writing to me. Thank you.
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THE MASKED BALL

I am flighty;
Verses falling from my head like dandruff,
Passwords to my soul lost among
The tom-toms, the ukele, the talking drums,
The push and pull of the rhythm, of the dance.


The cowries sing, shackled to my ankles;
My blistered toes scrapping the pinched soil;
This black humus, this world; my all,
As the call comes and raffia leaves
And my weary limbs tremble.


I am the moon tugging the sea
To a samba across the shores of your heart.
I am that star, single, stirring winds
That drive the world about its axis;
I am the music and you are my tether.


I inch forward and pause.
A sad flute wiggles into the fold.
Softly, it teases memory
And mother's fire fills my nostrils
And i breathe the muddy earth,
The mud fish twisting between my little fingers,
The glee of palm oil soaked soup
Drenching lips and elbows with the sweetness
Of mother's breasts and father's broad shoulders.


The solo snakes into a duet
And the drum throbs to old rhythms.
Oh awaken to the crowd!
See with chalked eyes, the shadows.
Let your shackled feet dance once more,
Let raffia leaves beat the air to submisson
And nimble feet soar between spaces of matter,
Let your ritual speak.


I stare at my hands as the ogene sound.
I rush to the throne and bow.
Oba raises a hand; one spirit to another.
Then i twist about, stagger in between worlds,
And then i dance; oh i dance.

peace

©@warpedpoetic

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I truly love this
You sound like a proud traditional man
You celebrate and detailed well your cultural practices in this piece

Nice piece

I read somewhere that when you write, write to one person

True. All readers might not, will not connect with the crux of the message and the emotions it should/you mean it to arouse.

@warpedpoetic now my leg is itching me to dance oh but no ogene,talking drum, gangan or shekere here. 😔
Africa my pride and heritage💪...Beautiful line Boss👌👍

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Then clap and wiggle your waist,
Tap and spin your feet
Because we will dance; you and i.
It is what we were made for;
To dance, to sing and of course, to soar.

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If you'll beat the drum for me;
Then I shall clap and wiggle my waist,
Tap and spin my feet,
Lost myself to the beautiful African beat,
And I'll dance 💃 for you.

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Oh but you will dance
For the music throbs between my fingertips,
It seizes the air and play strings
Of eternal bliss.
My feet are paused waiting
For my hands to wrap your waist
And lead you from salsa to azonto,
From a waltz to rock and roll.
Come dance with me,
Not for me;
Let you and i be one.

Lovely piece bro....

This post has received a 0.31 % upvote from @drotto thanks to: @banjo.

I am no longer writing for myself but i am now writing to please an audience that is not even listening to me.

That has been my fear 😱, sometimes we get so carried away by people's accolades that we forgot our motive for writing, not knowing that the might not be reading most times

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You know. At first i was having fun, but now it seems i am trying too hard to please empty seats. I am going to find that fun again.

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Like seriously I know the way you feel. Because that's what happen when we let people's praises becloud our initial motive of doing things. But you are fortunate you get to know this on time

I love this, sire. Which city do you live in?

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Presently Abuja

Wow

This is awesome

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Another Gem man thanks for sharing it with us : ) God Bless You. Peace and Love. I am sure it will go into the Daily Dose for sure...

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Thanks @cleansingpoetry for your lovely comment. Do stop by again. Peace.

I could easily picture the situation and that is where the success of a poet lies. Beautiful poem. I write for myself and sometimes, it turns out great :D

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Lol. Well as long as you like what you have written, it is great. That's how i see it.

Thanks for stopping by. Do come again. Peace.

Very nice poem! I liked: "Then i twist about, stagger in between worlds, And then i dance; oh i dance." very much. Between worlds, neither here nor there, the best state to be in for dancing imo...

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Lol... Very true. You do not see yourself dance but you do not care that you dance poorly because you are lost in the music, lost between worlds. Thanks @madevi for stopping by