This section tells the stories of ordinary men
Who no one knows but someone knows…..
“OKORO”
Here comes Okoro
With a back concave as a sickle
and a sack trapped
at the back of his cycle.
He wraps his hoe like his life depends on a nickel,
The weeds must not prevail over his precious corn
Farmed in the land that he was born
Though he had no son
And his neighbours laughed him to scorn
He won’t run
For the moon was gone
Morn will turn noon,
His hands will soon bear the horn
And unto their mourn,
His loin will be as the horn of a unicorn
Hope you enjoy reading:
Poem written by Esther Salami
