(A DIRGE FOR BUCHI EMECHETA
A cloistered pen in the booay,
afixed and swayed in the rugged way.
Treading the path with punched sway,
alone with pen to wander astray.
The joys of motherhood now weeps.
The second class citizen in a great leaps.
Shall i curse heavens to open your eyelids
To espy the threnody the fans’ lips.
Why now, must it be now?
Cant death change its garment somehow?
Our tears draw a map of vows.
Shall it be well with death endowed?
Our hearts cry your eternal vacation
Noble novelists sing your forte and position
which peace and success in this generation.
Till we meet again, i attest your corpulent actions.
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