Village dance
The drums are alive
the dance has moved
to the market place
bare-assed children
dance to naked drums
I hear jungle drums
in my head
echoing from Inyi, that small
village across Niger
mother’s voice-a magic flute
floats to me…
like a sculptor’s knife
shaving away the rough edges
of my turbulent youth
I see again
the village damsels
take to the centre
their breasts arrows poised
aimed at my infant heart
and I die again at the vision.
dave chukwuji
Please login or register
You must be logged in or register a new account in order to
Login or Registerleave comments/feedback and rate this poem.