It is time for our poets to realize that a boy is not always a butterfly & our mothers are not all moons. Poetry is first an expression of self before anything. Be original.
‘Ode to Mother Tongue’ is a showdown of choruses of West African voices. In it, we read poets who appealed to the language of their hearts in the composition of their verses, in order to reach the audiences’ hearts. Indeed, the heart-of-the-matter in the edition’s theme ‘Mother Tongue’ is a matter of the heart.
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One finds a poet who sounds less like his environment or the rest of his remaining works. One finds a horde of clannish poets who have resumed trapping their styles in the net of the other. One finds a literary community that has forgotten to produce the spirit-immersed poetry, the kind that broadly establishes the contaminant emotive will; not the kind that breeds a hive of self-importance—tributes and odes to self—that which undermines the vicarious role of pathos.
Our lord has ears, and he hears whispers of the bourgeoisie in his right, and wailings of the abject masses in his left; whose stapes is Apollyon.