"Sons of Night" by Oko Owi Ocho "Africa" and Momodu Ehiz.

PREFACE

This poem is a freestyle (if there is such word as freestyle in poetry). The beauty of these lines are the fact that they weren't planned for. Even from the first flow of the conversations. So this is a deliberate attempt to show that the machinery of words in a poet should always be on.
From the free flow of the lines, it is also clear how the African renaissance is fast growing. Although the poets did not have to think their lines but the African imageries were precisional. This poem was born in The Poetry Court whats-app poetry group. A medium for poets which constitutes major new voices that are coming up. Promoting new voices. In the Court Of Poetry, let the judgement of verses begin. Its is deliberate that the informal taste of the poem was reserved. Mostly the beginning, where the greeting was just casual.

Oko Owi Ocho "Africa" and Momodu Ehiz

 SONS OF NIGHT 

 Are there night poets here?

Of what use is night to poets Battling with dark silence of day? So come my friends Lets come in the night And remind the warriors That our borders are armed With swords thirsty for our blood Hngry for the proteins that Wrap round our infants' bones

 So come,

Come my friends let's sing .

And un-night this night 

 "Bringer of words.

I salute you."

 I salute u

The flutist that calls eagles to dance

 I salute u the son of night

That shows the sun

How weak it's shoulders are

 I salute u son of the soil.

I salute u my friend.

 Okay.

Since the chord has been struck

Let's dance.

My feet are light

And can carry my waist

Through centuries of night

 Lost in the forest of words

Where the palm trees tell stories

With black rain bowed words

I am ready to blow the flute

Son of my black mother

 Give me drums of the night

And let our voice reverberate

The sky of Africa

And after the songs

We shall sleep in peace

On the bed made waves

Of the Nile.

 Oh, indeed we shall sleep

With legs swinging from back of Senghor

To that of Adowa.

 We shall sing.. chants

And share cola nut with gods

Gods that dance through forest path

And moon warriors through nights.

Gods who Unlike God eats with men

And caress women.

Gods who feel the torture and pleasure of pepper

 Yes, the pleasure of pepper
They taught on roasted chicken
And roasted yam. 

 My head boils in the rhythms
Of their songs
Osiris, Horus, Sango, Ra, 
 

In their comforting arms
They reincarnated while alive
And birth names to climb
To their throne. Greed less,
They birth Fela, Kimathi, Amilcar Sankara, Nkrumah
And Lumumba Tosh, Banda, Bella, Wiwa, Rodney Bantu Biko, Somore.

This Gods have given me
Baskets of songs as black
As my ebony soul
So tonight the song shall be sung

Get ready to dance
Black sons of mother Isis
The dawn has chariot home
When we shall balm The heart of Mother.

 Our hands Oooh our hand are white with dirts
With sins of white dreams
White mind and white tongue 

 So Let this night not fall the clouds on us
When we dance and sing
Let us by the Gods warm
Not the grave Out of idleness.
Let the mother forget not Labour room roof colour

 For we are infants
Who forget that it is food
That swells the breast

 I stop
Not for fear of words I stop not because my
Feet are heavy to dance
I stop now Because I know sons
Of my mother have lyrics
To add to the songs.

 Let Africa laugh
Seeing her youngs build her A son

 Come out children of the night
Sing mother a song
She awaits ur shekere
Your talking drums, sambas Agidigbe and oke
Sons and daughters of night Lets rise in rising songs.

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