by Adekunle Adewunmi

Bukola be beautiful or beauty itself
a plumed maiden be nothing but a tower

Bukola got heart made of gold
She be daring fierce challenges hotter than fire

Fair skin like Oyinbo
{as in yellow & not the bleached}

Bukola got too many suitors &
only Samson’s name she recites in her membrane

She understands law of timing she knows
her time is as a passing vehicle

So, she planted herself in her children &
made their characters her home

Bukola be not like Anikulapo’s Aina
whose home now grows drug peddlers & ashawo

her children be edifice
other’s bungalows rubbed raw in praying & adoration

Bukola be deathless or death itself
demons come near, gets fried like chicken

When you see her pass by
wish her many more victory

I’ll drop my pen as a present
Bukola is my mother.


Poem inspired by Logan February’s abiku.

Published by Adekunle Writes

Adekunle is the author of a poetry collection, 'Arise Nigeria'. A young writer, Adekunle is a correspondent at Church Times Newspaper and Contributing Editor for Interviews at OPEN: Journal of Arts and Letters. He's the recipient of Daily Trust Newspaper's Poet of the week, January 2019. Follow me on Instagram on https://instagram.com/adekunlewrites https://platform.linkedin.com/badges/js/profile.jsAdekunle Adewunmi

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