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The discreet and inescapable walk to poetry

Make up narratives
See short stories popping up
Observe the birth of a story
Sleeping words on the news
Dissect a social fact
Yes, I did all of this

But to devote myself to poetry?
For me she stayed there
Cantoned to verses
Reduced to stanzas and quotes
Quatrains of my school years

Dissyllabes quadrisyllabes …
Oh my!
Pentameters heptameters …
A Ǹti wama!
Crossed rhymes followed flat …
Sonnets, ode and …
Akíé amalá a di!

That was poetry for me
That is, a bit boring
And that rhyme ah that one!
These metric constraints
Make poetry?
Hmm no, I did not see it!

And yet!
As if the beautiful Lady
Discreet but sure of her fact
Waiting for her time
The time of poetic writing
She came to me
And in what way!

First she told me
Or rather, whispered silently

Vogóló wamәn !

Listen to your inner!
Poetry is diverse
Here, your people!
Do not you see his poetry?
Do not you hear the poetry of Mvet Ekang?
Have you forgotten the poetry of Beti songs?

A part of me listened and then…

First came Mintsogán
Thoughts and reflections
Snapshots just waiting to go out
Who get tangled
Expose themselves
Take shape
Between tears and laughter

And one day the meeting!
The unconscious has become conscious
Imagination imposes itself
Some things can only be said in poetry

And the imagination to whisper…

Poetry is not only about verses and rhyme
It is also prose fit
Prose and music together
Words affecting the Spirit
Words that shake us

Do I make prose in poems
Or a prose poem?
You be the judge !