Happy birthday! what day is it?
I’ll search failed memory in a bit.

How old are you, how matured?
In terms of arms, how secured?

Nigeria, how old are you?
That you still are like ewe

Multiple decades gone yet a newbie
In all things advanced yet not big

Ancient enough to make history
Regardless if half of it isn’t real

A fool at forty will eternally be fool,
Tell us your age, we can’t be fooled.

A fool at twenty is a fool forever.
Nigeria in fifties looks like a leper.

A mother of thirty six, how fruitful?
But none can she feed, how fruitful?

Your children are weeping, see them,
Yelling… You can’t stand up for them

Nigeria! Are you now lost in age?
Lost in hope to be free from this cage?

Nigeria! The land of Peace and Mercy.
Rain your mercy, not put us in frenzy.

Stop growing and bring us no more
To the decay of your aging nature

Nigeria! How old are you, not joking?
Change is calling and time is running

Honey and milk in her yet I remain
horny and funny in my irony in pain.

Milk and honey it was
A memory this long thus…

Nigeria! Mother of lots and riches,
Yet volumes of cries increases.

Will you toddle drunkenly like cripples
while your progeny wallows in ripples?


Nigeria we query thee, our own dear plaintiff’s land
Tho’ rights and wrongs may differ, how old are you at hand?

How old are you in the chain of amalgamation?
On the field of Uhuru what are your cultivation?

I marvel at thy politics, how old art thou?
I tremble at thy economics, how young art thou?

Nigeria! Pray tell how far have you gone?
In standing strong and getting things done

I wonder Madam Naija, how many is your age?
For calling budget padding an act of the sage.

You toy with your adolescence now you tear up,
A nitwit mother at fifties, when would you gear up?

Oh mother Nigeria, I guess you wait to be called-
Grandma, before your sagacity would be summoned.

The west has swallowed many sun oh Nigeria
So halt your stress and rocket no further

What for you in the past as beauty – your dimple,
are now cushion of germs, filthy – like pimples.

You were once your husband’s giant and her trigger
Today, your steps grow stronger, you grow weaker.

A stale mother with three dozens of children
Begging for a living, why not be barren?

My childhood called thee Oh mother Eva.
My manhood now sees thee as null but a heaver.

You are the bedrock of this coloured race;
Lick off the tar they need to see your face.

_*@Writers Connect (WriCon)*_

_Aswagaawy, D’Hissue, Decent, Dynasty, YussufAyo, PenKiah, Abubakry, Sapphire, Andre, MelPoet, NajeebuLah, Chechyn, NanaAwwau, Badiru Kehinde_

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_………bridging bounds between bards._

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