Baba God,
For dis gate
of tears,
Na him I put
my prayer request.
Yet,
after 5 years
You still no send.
My life
be like flute,
Wey dey sound
like gen.
My heart
be like fruit,
Wey be poison
to belle.
Cloth no fit
cover my shame,
Perfume no dey
hide my odour
Cos I never
change my last name
or bring man come
knock my papa door
I be virgin,
I dey fast.
I dey choir,
be church worker
Yet runs girls
like Cynthia
Come even
get husband
My pikin,
I see your
prayer requests,
and baggage
for the gate of tears,
But yes, I send.
your husband
since 5 years ago.
You remember
Broda Luke
Wey you yab
with your friend
You say e no fit buy
tyre tube
I don make
am millionaire.
What about Seyi?
You talk say
him too short.
Becos you
From Itsekiri,
You no even
gree am talk
You be virgin,
I gree.
Church worker,
E good.
But you no fit keep,
Broda chidi,
Cos you dey do S.U
Long skirts, no make-up.
So my pikin,
Wetin I go do?
My job
na to send husband,
Your job
na to keep am.
Na why I give you brain.
For yourself, make way.
Funny…but na by make up and short skirt dem tey take keep husband?
Nice and didactic poem
*But her dressing should be courteous not tarty
really nice…even has a ring to it!
gives me courage to do vernacular.
it make sense half-way but it was good sha.
@ Afroxyz, I like the use of Nigerian pidgin. In defense of God pikin, the poetic persona, maybe when next God sends a husband, he should inform her sot hat she can easily identify him. She shouldn’t be kept guessing. On the whole, it is really an interesting poem.
baba God dey try. Its 4 us to keep them.
… a nice poem in the lingua franca of the Niger Delta, love the flow…