League Day 19; BRENDA MARTHA vs HUSSANI ABDULRAHIM

In Africa where gods and goddesses are held in high prestige. Hence, today I bring to you, two wordsmiths who'll be weaving words, words of eulogy to the gods of our father's land; Africa. Enjoy!

NOTE;
1) The judges decision takes 70% of the judgement while well wishes and lovers of poetry votes takes 30%.

2) Upon no circumstance must any of the above mentioned poets vote.

3) The contestants are urged to invite friends to Vote for them using the comment section of this post. No rule exempts you from canvassing for votes.

5) Voting lasts for 18 hours from commencement of Duel.

6) Vote using I VOTE POEM 1 or I VOTE POEM 2

7) Results would be uploaded briefly after the closure of votes.

Good luck to the wordlords.. LET THE BATTLE BEGIN!

THEME: gods Of Africa (Eulogy)

BRENDA MARTHA

TITLE: gods of AFRICA (EULOGY) 

Katonda!

Mighty are you, creator of all life 

Plants and animals, in their own uniqueness 

Humans, beings beyond compare. 

Judge of judges, King of kings 

We hail your name in all the ridges. 

Ala! 

Mother of fertility, 

Giving our lands richness, 

To host grass for our goats, and yams 

Bounty harvest is your blessing 

Ruler of the seas,

Heavy catches by the fishermen 

Mujaji! 

Goddess of rain

Watering our plants, green are the fields

Quench our thirst you do

And fill the wells to the brim 

Praise be to your name 

Kibuka! 

War has broken out, 

Lead our men to victory 

Banish fear in them, and give courage 

Let their weapons bring an end to war 

Oh! Kibuka, we besiege you. 

Oh gods of our land

Take our offering as gratitude 

For many a things you bestow on us 

In the plenty of your mercies.

HUSSANI ABDULRAHIM

TITLE; CHANT OF THE VILLAGER

Ogunabali! Muncher of darkness, 

With reverence I crouch 

By the lips of thy revered orifice. 

Ogunabali! Occuiputs of the night, 

Guardian of the three-headed leopard, 

Shape-shifting panther of the night, 

Subtle executioner in the dark. 

Ogunabali, protector of the silent, 

I've come to thee wearied and broken, 

A sole surfer trounced by the current, 

For this windy world's a silly sea, 

And men are wicked waves tossing one tither and hither. 

Ogunabali, son of no one, 

It's you whose shadow's nothingness bearing a smoking pot, 

It's you whose basket holds water for the thirsty. 

Ogunabali! Terror of the naked sea, 

You who fashion bowls from bones of men, 

And gulp wine where there's blood. 

It's you who impales a man in his prime. 

Ogunabali! Eyes of the gazelle, 

I crouch by the lips of thy revered orifice, 

Don't leave me out in the creasing cold 

Nor in the palms of a sullen sun.