The Talking Drum Poem by Ifeoluwa Philips

#The_Talking_Drum

Speaking bewildering
Tongue dictates alluring
Calling a lad from a far
Having piece of loaf yet suffer

Telegraphing the space and time
Most of its voices are out of time
Talking drum in deep talk
Wise ones listen carefully and be stalk

Sound is clumpsy
Fool in robes of pride
And fellow of epilepsy
What gives then a pride?

Dialect of wisdom
Yet unheard in the kingdom
As far as home seems to walk
Lending to son of a stranger a cheap work

Hallowed and shabby
Calling moon of the songwriter to sleep
Like a well composed lullaby
Which ought to make just formed to sleep

Patterns of hearing differ
Not even a solace from a giver
Awaiting song of wisdom
Telegraphing to the ones in a boredom

Clap amazed the fool
Celebration staired the pool
They flooded in sound of the drum
And abase the knowledge of the drum

Sarcastic took over the sound
All men in ashes jubilation then sank
Picking the piece of spoken words on sand
Almost picking and the sound left still in sank

Who knows the tone
Tell to us the words of the drum
We are lost in lustful tone
And the calling hear is deaf to the drum

After so many time
We heard it so very clear
That we can't gain those spoken words time
As disarray tabled the party to be unclear.