WIBENATURE

THE STONES OF STORYTIME

April 19, 2021

THE STONES OF STORIES

by Gbadegesin Akeem Ayodele

They marked the story of life

It kept the stones to document
The events of their fore fathers.
They belong to the aborigin of
the kins as a father of the kings.

They marked the story of a town

It kept the records of the events
The magic of the Establishment
Is to be a learner at all costs
To show the deciever in the garden.

The magic of the Earth

Is full documentation of the crabble.
Stone crackers struggles to archieve
The glory of the builder's senses,
Keep the Earth to the Earth.

One by one in collecting the pebbles

One per day amounts to a hill of stones.
The trippled drops of the water become a pool.
The smoking rubbish lits to a burnt litter.

I did never drink liquors and beers

But I do give to the gyms,
I love this flowers giving to the
Right spouses at right stages.
The steps go with the rhythms.

My mother breastfeed for years

I breadfeed myself for some years
The dreams feed me to grant my missions
with the breasts and breads of the ancient mothers.

My tongue is tied and tired

My lips are gapped to say as a sootsayer
My tooth departs each other to show
I salivate to sing a praise and prayers
A breath of thunders gets across my tongue.

The best of the quests are the drinks of my mother's breast,

the most requests are the palm wine of the Oracle tree.
The beauty of my cults is in the words of a talking drumbeats.

The traditions are written on the stones,

the scribers were at the stores of stories.
The Oracles and drumbeaters are alive for many centuries,
the stones of storytime.

Who knows the kings and his kins?

The magics and melodies of all times,
Who always points the peasants and princes?
Traditions of the chanters,the pages are pasted in
the sentrian figures and facts of the singers.

My bones are the stones and rocks,

the fleshes are the soil to plant my black and gray hairs.
The blood streams all over my body,
here I received my world again and again.

The wind blows through the windows,

to and from in the secrets of the universe.
This is the signs of the great cults of the masquerading,
l witness the pyshic records.

The stories repeat in narrations,

the seas and oceans give back rainfalls.
The seeds and fruits of the latest replace
the mother's veggies, the Virgins of a land will soon verge.

The wills are just a guide of peace,

the marks and milestones are the peacemakers.
The wisdoms of the oldest mongers
keep us to the movies of the future.

The caves were great temples till date,

the pictures of worships, praises and prayers.
The archial ducums are told a lot of stories,
once a forest become a dessert.

The talk drums speak of the pebbles and

mountained rocks struggling,
the rock loaders and palm oil loaders,
the immoveable hills and passbyers,
hidened books are on and in the paged rocks.

I do never aware of the purposes of the rocks,

I do never say the funnies of the bones.
There is no death that never left the remains,
the dishes must symbolize a fest.
The demised footsteps are the ways of life.

The birds had been hunted and

dead of the sharpest arrows and spears,
the hottest ball-shots cut the aves and apes breathe.
The feathers and hides live a long in cult-shrines,
the roles made.

The royal family of the melons,

the melodious talking drumbeats sound
a good stories and a sad memories.
The crawling herbs bear calabashes,gouges,
rattles as well as melons' veriances.

No two kings but the God,

the gongs say one and only,
the rattled gouges (sekere)say in one tone,
Batadrums say in many pitches.
The dundun dun in different intonations.

All are rollout the same name in varies,

congratulations to the fathers of the kings
into a new kingdom of our time,
Baale of Elegede clans- Chief RAHEEM SULAIMON KOSOBAMEJI 1.
 #africanpoems #ancientmarks #ancienttools #Facebook #Instagram

#kinstorys #Oracles #publication #stonestory #storyline #storypoem

#themarksoftheland #tribepoems #tribesmagazine

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