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 </div><p></p>There are words for her that I will tell to the ears of Aresa<br>
There are words for her that I will tell to the ears of Alara<br>
There are words for her that I will tell to the ears of Orogun Ila<br>
There are words for her that Ajero must perceive<br>
.<br>
There are words that Olurobi must greed about<br>
Regretting why she liberate Ela for demon’s sacrifice<br>
There are words that will resent the ears of Efunsetan Aniwura<br>
For her influence couldn’t protect the verve of her child.<br>
.<br>
I will tell these words to the gods and demigods<br>
That rains has drenched our vulture for so long<br>
I will tell these words to the ears of scary demon<br>
That dearth has stained our white-bird with wild affliction.<br>
.<br>
I will tell these words that are filthy and irksome<br>
I will tell these words that are perfumed and luscious<br>
I will tell these words of upbringing tribulations<br>
I will tell these words that made me a topnotch.<br>
.<br>
That there was no cradle bed to sit and watch on<br>
For our mattress was made of weaved palm-frond<br>
For our bedspread consists of aged and tattered wrapper<br>
And some pale yards of Ankara and broad Kampala.<br>
.<br>
That she carried my paunch of pregnancy for nine months<br>
That she struggles and whines for pain in grievous mourns<br>
That she had scratch and throbbing gasp during her confinement<br>
That she waist blood and water from the bed of my birth.<br>
.<br>
That she carried me tenderly with her rusty arms<br>
Some rustiness ached from the peals of cassava tubers<br>
That she dazzles around in her absolute prime<br>
Singing lullabies in her moisture love that’s unconditional.<br>
.<br>
Why will I forgot those moments of sad memories<br>
When she tore her clothes and made them for my napkins<br>
With no dime to purchase pampers nor bulling currency<br>
Still, she looks into these eyes and absorbs those tears that wink.<br>
.<br>
That word will not be enough to describe her tremendous zest<br>
Of those starving moment when she at a standstill feed me from her breast<br>
Of matchless faith her flooding sweats behest<br>
How she kisses my lips with endurance of perfect pest.<br>
.<br>
That she washed stuffs and grumpy clothes for my avail<br>
Amid the trodden of hard and heavy rains<br>
That she sings of her commitment and her mournful strives<br>
Hoping for the sun to glisters for a better life.<br>
.<br>
That she told my ass the titanic vigor in their spirits<br>
And trained them with flawless acts of sitting<br>
That she told my hands the potency in its arms and wrist<br>
And enlighten them with huge passion for crawling.<br>
.<br>
Why will I forgot her rose of courage that never withered<br>
Of each of my smiles that she founds boom and profound<br>
Of how thorns slash her nails from those wood that she gathered<br>
And make blood drift from her hands as she prepares my first light pap.<br>
.<br>
That she buckled my shoes and took me to school<br>
And in cloying suns she backed me home just to keep me cool<br>
That she took me to church and taught me a propos of beliefs<br>
And how to act and behave like most of scared cherubim.<br>
.<br>
That she fall just to make me steadily rise<br>
That she mends my infant’s spines and entwine my broken heart<br>
That she held her breathes just to make me inhale again<br>
That she’s my mother; she’s a mother with matchless visage.<br>
.
<p><figure id="attachment_21494" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-21494" style="width: 854px" class="wp-caption aligncenter"><a href="http://poetry.wrr.ng/wp-content/uploads/2016/05/MAMI-by-Amore-David-Olamide.jpg"><img class="size-full wp-image-21494" src="http://poetry.wrr.ng/wp-content/uploads/2016/05/MAMI-by-Amore-David-Olamide.jpg" alt="MAMI by Amore David Olamide" width="854" height="455" loading="lazy"></a><figcaption id="caption-attachment-21494" class="wp-caption-text">MAMI by Amore David Olamide</figcaption></figure></p>
 
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 Amore David Olamide </a>
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