Niyi Osundare


With limbs half limp and a vacant gaze

She plods through the months and hazy days

Some hail her as Africa’s Giant

But she bears herself like a hapless ant


Blessed with sunshine and abundant rain

She blights her people with needless pain

Their boundless strength she converts to curse

Their bus to bliss becomes a hearse


While others make, they prefer to fake

The sweat-fruit of others they take and take

Insatiable consumers of foreign goods

A land long lost in subservient woods


The best of her brains desert in droves

This land of paupers and princely rogues

Who fritter our flairs and drain our dreams

With their fell designs and venal schemes


A land so blessed but so betrayed

She leaves the world ever so dismayed

Big-for-Nothing is her middle name

An Open Sore and a Continent’s shame


But Hope’s wide door is never shut

Its kernel is hard as a seasoned nut

The Sleeping Giant may yet awake

When her folks rid themselves of their mindless ache


                     Niyi  Osundare

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