The dust settles on the elephant grass roof of the palace,
these were the sounds from the royal palace.
Then rhymes from a tentative melodies—
the folktaling sounds of the new sound;
its the beautiful sound of the “dawuronta”.
wonderous melodies from the days of the ancients—
they run on fingertips to deep imprints on the heart.
The priest unable to sit still on his stool,
jumps on his four legs—
the first two for the gods he communes with
—and the other two for the spirits of the ancestors.
From the tunes of the skies came their rhythms;
beautiful melodies on golden animal skins…
a heart song embedded in the dreams of the drums.
From the deep of
“Fontonfrom”— came the King’s pride,
on the lips of “Atumpan” — came the voice of the Queen;
and on the tongue of the “Dondo” — came the hymns of the linguist.
Africa is beautiful,
her people so unique—
and words not finding perfection to describe her culture.
The soul yearns for your rhythm,
the ears flying on itchy oil to hear your tunes—
we know they are the tunes of our forefathers,
they are tunes to set our souls on for peace—
I can feel the random wakes of the gods,
teaching us the values of the land;
through a coordinated harmonics from the skins of the drums….
These are African drums—
they are the sounds echoed deep from spirits,
these are true rhythms from the days of ancient.
African drums caved from the ash of the sweat….
and breathed to life by a forged dew of the shrine,
these drums are golden— they are symbols of greatness.
A future is told from it;
with divinity awakening from it deep,
I am an African voice—
and the drums are my tongues.
Listen to me!
pay attention to my words;
—for they are the words of “Odomankoma”
to give million lessons to your ears…..
Please listen to me— my dear Africans…
Listen to the voice of the drums,
as they riddle melodies from our souls—
and gracing our spirits on the rhythms of our own land.
The Village Thinker © 2014