Roses Are Grown In My Village
I could recall the
epic journey of my
ancestors
With palm oil in
their lips and kola
nut in their mouths.
They all wore the
ancestral rope down
on their waist
down the mountain of
wisdom and bravery
To fight for the
freedom through the
ancient call.
Wisdom and
perfection were with
them.
Courage were their
backbone
They were bound to
the journey.
They were champions
of all time,
Heroes who fought
merrily for their
generation to come
they Harvested the
roses of the
paradise and grown
them in my village.
Pretty roses, king
of all flowers are
grown in my humble
land.
Champions are breed
under a glorified
atmospheric
condition in my
village.
Pretty ladies with
dark ski, long hair,
pointed nose,
beautiful body
White set of teeth
and dimples are
breed there
Under the motionless
passion of love.
Wisdom are made in
my home town
Love grows strong in
the eastern
heartland.
Bravery dwells in
the southern home
where the black
liquid lives.
Have you heard of
Chinua Achebe, Wole
Soyinka, Niyi
Osundare,Femi
OSofisan, Olu
Oguibe, Buchi
Emecheta, SEfi
Attah, Helo Habila,
Teju Cole, Flora
Nwapa, Adaobi
Tricia, J P Clark,
Ben Okri, OBinna
Eruchie, Chimamanda
Adichie, Saro Ken
Wewi, Akachi
Adimora?
They are roses from
my village.
With the spirit of
"NIgerism" they
stand tall, unshaken
They speak louder
and clearer upon the
mountains,
They lifted their
body and soul to
work
And break through
discrimination and
rejection.
To tell the world
that Nigerian could
do better.
They were crucified
by thought and
change
Passion for
greatness, air of
change, they breath.
There are still
undying roses within
speaking silently
Waiting for the
right time to strike
the match box
Waiting for an angel
to emerge like the
village voice
To speak perfectly
to the world.
Roses are grown in
my village.
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