Our father bear no names(#Day 59)

rexdickson (51)in #steemitschoolpoetry • 7 years ago (edited)

Our father bear no names
Yes..that was the ensign on our roof
Cracked sad muddy hut
Tired walls
Just like the road that led to our home
... Dead
Darker than pitch
.... Strait
Where lonely creepy legumes dragged ownership with us
Fenced with green haemoglobin

Our father bear no names
That's what his stick said
He was the local town crier
Whose voice resonated our whines
Or was it his talking drum?
That echoed our songs of poverty
Across the length of the village
As we peeled off plantain scalps with our teeth

Our father bear no names?
Just like we couldn't even afford the free waters of the stream

It wasn't far..
No..
It was too occupied
With smooth scented rich black flesh of children
Whose fathers own barns of money
Whose mothers danced on shillings of cowries
These weren't our parents

Our father names were damp
No sparkle went with it
It was the adverb that qualified the word hardship in the entire village
It was seen as the noun that was something worse than poverty
Some said it was the action word that birth struggle
They even said it was the conjunction between hunger and strife
Others held that it was the charcoal that drew dark lines on our future

Our mothers' smiles were cracked lines of poverty
Our father bear no names
This was the last of the wonders
Before our words knew their meanings
And our pens were written down
These were our identities
Before the beginning of things