Birds Of Feeder Poem by Poet Akinwemimo Idris

Verily is not a deceit,
This visional sight.
To my curious eyes.


If but this pen,
Capsized in folly depth,
In silence would have,
This be said thus:


These hovering birds,
On our looped tent,
Aim much than rescue.


Not this for free!


And the whired spear,
Made from else not,
Than from the feeder.


The hostiles are aiders.


From whom got we,
Astrayed in jungle,
Now our navigator.


Not these for free! ! !


16th May 2014.
11: 05 P.m
Esie, Kwara state.