Poetry

AFRICAN THUNDERSTORM

Looking up to the sky
White flecks of cloud twisting
Rotating together and darkening into grey
As if day has turn night
Softly, wind cries out aloud
And lightening draws like line in the sky.

Unspreading quickly the spreads
Like thief who never wanted to get caught
Screams of children under the tree
Running into house in haste
Bikeman rides so fast to hide
Clothes flying off furiously
Like flag does consistently.

Pregnant clouds
Ride stately on its back
Gathering to perch on hills
Like dark sinister wings.
The wind cries out loud
And trees bend to let it pass.

It begin to rain fiercely
That raindrop drum hard on the roof
But ignorance kill my brain
And keep on watching a movie
While my friend stood on the threshold
Gazing repeatedly at the mirror.

My grandfather shouted from within
Do not stand on the threshold
The thunder might strike
Turn on electronic devices
So that they become irreparable again
Look not in the mirror
It is an abomination.

All this happens when it rains?
‘Yes, some are victim
Due to their ignorance
In many society
When it rains’.
Replied my grandfather.

To nobody in particular I murmured
My society of many believes
My society of many superstitions
You must have inherited these long ago
From your great forefathers
That it dominates generation to generation.

© Fagbohun Joel

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