Not a word of honor, amid the warmth of his mores
No endeavor, or toil for his fame
Eminent for his languor, and was rather lame
But In an attempt, to amend his destiny
And fight for supremacy
Arose his son, Okonkwo
Famed for his strength, and bravery,
Like a Reminiscent of a lion in the jungle
He arose to be a man of audacity.
But amid the mores,
Prevailed the innocence of a boy
Who unaware of his own destiny
Became compulsion to the audacious
As days came to an end
His presence signified love and adore
Amid the spirits of his possessor.
But things fell apart, as a rage could not mend
As the kings fall, after defeated destiny,
And help is for send.
He screeched upon his fate,
Like all was melancholy.
Banished from home, to a distant soil
Reside in exile, was far from royal
Though lost to a battle, was not too loyal
And soon the horses drew back to their ships
As the exile came to an end
But somewhere the clouds, gave way to thunder
The mores, were like the pray beneath the feet of a tiger
And the village was no longer a survivor
As Missionaries dictated their culture
And sway the innocuous by their wit.
All were deceived, with no man with grit
But when, the owned blood turned white
And the hands could not fight,
Amid his presence, nothing could survive
The only answer, to the mores so might,
Was the demise of his soul, until another ignites…
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