THE BRAGGARTS

A Poem by Otonye Daniel

A post war poem..

We are the bleeding-battered-brambled-bushes from the gory gruelsome giant wars of the irokos,
We are braaivleies from barbercues of the chefs-
We are the dried gormless gourdsthe tattler tattle about,
We hold wine but never drink it, our masters take it from us and leave us empty
The helfty heckling brays of exploitation won't let us live,
We are the raggéd wagging tongues habiting under bridges..
When mornings mouth make love to the sun, we are those who watch with envy..
We remember our lost loved ones who recognise us not from warring wars of the irokos-
Yes! We fought the fight,vanguish'd the vultures,cameback with victory-
To love and caress this brooding booing poverty-
That mocks and taunts and haunts and tucks us to bed..
Our plates tell our stories,we've lost arms and legs,every one of us lost a body-part..
Defending fellow-men, serving her,our beloved country,our heart..
The cries of coins denting our begging-plates,that's our joy,they remind us of the songs of grenades,
We are from the good goodly warring days..
We are just below the middle-class,
Nay! A lil' farther from the saif class
We are the bragging bourkes of social hierachy
At night we watch and laugh,as the nightly-humans pass..
We are the idle watching watchmen of the streets-
You come to us for luck and aid
We are the ragged smiling men with stretched out plates..
We are the one-eyed no-eyed one-legged un-legged one-armed no-armed proud satisfied men who smile and look at you-
Now, give us our daily bread; just drop a penny