When You See My Mother

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    Tell her she is the moon-
    She does not belong to the kitchen
    and other rooms like our first lady
    Her eyes is the satellite of the earth.
    Tell her she is the sun-
    That corruption can't cover at noon
    Her dimples creates love channels
    Where poetry salutes many lips.
    Tell her  she is a  dancer-
    Her legs tells thousand stories
    Of African tradition and culture
    Not of hatred and abuse of mankind.
    Tell her she is a singer-
    With a tonic voice of nightingale
    Not like a venom of an envy snake
    Her tongue is the sea of hope.
    Tell her that her love made me
    Wiggle like a drunk prostitute
    It made me lost in God's eyes
    My dance awaits her breastful days.
    Tell her I won't make her eyes wet
    She belongs to the throne not kitchen
    She shall build another wall of China
    Not in her season shall women rejected.
    Tell her she a mother not a whore!
    Our lives began from her womb like
    Nature began from God's poetry lips
    Tell her that I am coming home soon.
    A drummer she is among the drummers
    Many voices echoe from her hands
    She is not an inexperienced kite that
    Made fun of the itself by carrying the duck.

    (C) John Chizoba Vincent
           Voice Of Vincent 2016
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  • Oyin Young: Friday, 30 December 2016 at 21:37:00
  • Label(s): John Chizoba Vincent , Poems
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