A Continent Called Soyinka Poem by Shadrack Oteng

......for Wole Soyinka

Your writings activate the dormant poetic veins in me
You are the poetic star I strive to see
Your pen's offspring is of greater worth
like the eternal lines of William Wordsworth
we breathe the oxygen of your immortal lines
our minus minds mellow madly at your creative signs.
I love your artistic form and beauty
I always read you with juvenile jealousy
All literary genres showcase your capability
You are apostle of literary trinity
I know not which genre of literature is your choice
wonder is how you fill empty characters with words
when I think of what creative heart lies in thee,
I imagine what your absence will have been.
The same alphabet with which you weave epic,
poor me, I create sonnet so sick
The theatre is always sensationally stormed
whenever your drama is to be performed.
How do I call you, Novelist, Poet or Playwright?
in every field, your prolific pen writes
whenever words run to hug your pen,
in a fraction of second, you create poems more than ten.
Long live you, father of African literature
in you, young ones like us have future

Poet-Shaddy