A Budding Poet

Give me my quill pen
My inkpot and my papyrus
Give me my tools
Drop them all here
Those consonants sounds
And I will do the repetitions for you

Give me all those words
And I will make them
Rise and fall for you

Give me, give me all those sounds
And I will give you their meaning

I will give image
To your taste, touch, hearing and smell
Give me now my tools
Before someone else becomes a poet.

by Tony Adah

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