TWENTY | Kore Akarakiri

TWENTY 

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Dear Friends, 

Let's play twenty hours a day,

Maybe on your birthday,

Or on every special day,

We may not play for twenty years, 

Life knows how to take all the fun. 

Every day is new and special,

So let's play today,

And dance to the tunes from time-flies.

Nothing lasts forever, 

Life's hot chasing our tails,

As the sea flows to its shore,

We flee for safety, 

Yet, never to run into the sea,

For mother awaits our return.

Till the rod strikes again,

And all man return to mother's shade, 

Would you come out tomorrow? 

To play ten-ten and suwe,

To add up for the twenty we may not have, 

Swing our ìbàdí to the rhythms of the songs, 

Let the woods make melodious drums, 

At the twentieth hour of the night. 

Àwẹ́, 

Let's play for Ogún wákàtí today,

Ogún ọdún may not make its way to our door steps.

Let's play today.

Glossary:

Sùwé: An African childish play. 

Ìbàdí : Waist. 

Àwé : Friend. 

Ogún Wákàtí : twenty hours. 

Ogún ọdún : Twenty years. 

The poem is inspired by the Yoruba adage, which says, "Ogún ọmọdé kò lè ṣeré fún ogún ọdún" Which means that twenty kids can't play for twenty years. 

Poet's Bio:

Korede Akarakiri is a poet and a photographer. He's the Editor-in-chief of arkorewrites.

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