The Negro

Mon Village

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Squeking and croaking sounds the lovely anthem I wake with.
Twisting and breaking knukles the symbol of relief.
Stretching up and yawning simplifies the awareness of yh day.
The breakthrough of sunlight as I draw the curtains.
Showing the eye of God upon me.
Shouting accross compounds to usher greetings,
The joy of family.

Such is the love of the village.
Holding the lifes of us at heart
Clothing us with the colour of nature.
Happy are we as fires commune with its three elders.
Sharing stories of their enderveors.
Sounding the gong grows the authority of my village.

Parading wifes by thebackbone of the village.
Quenching the thirst of sleep.
Whispers of gossip, our flag of care.
Happy are we as we dance around campfires.
Sharing the history of our existence.
Cementing the name of the village in the heart of the unborn.

The Haymaker © 2014

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The Haymaker

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