A Paean to Gele

Gele, 
The pulchritude of ```iro and buba```,
The exquisiteness of ```Kaaba```
The soulmate of ```fila``` 
The king of all head ties. 

Gele, 
Your arcs and curves intoxicate than ```liquor```
You firmly fit queen's heads. 
The honour you bring to the head
Is second  to no other head tie's. 

Gele, 
You are an explosion of creativity. 
Yes! Your beauty is displayed by the adroit hands. 
From just a rectangular piece of fabric
You are wrapped by hand to form an admirable hat.

Gele, 
The ancient and modern one. 
The way you are tied, in time past,
Evinced women's marital status
Leaning right: married, while left: single.

Gele, 
Nothing feminises as you do
You are an ultimate expression of femininity  in young girls, 
You reveal the motherhoodness in ladies and 
Affirm the youthfulness in mothers. 

Gele, 
You forsook the idea of class
And embrace  that of parity.
The mark of equality you show in various associations
Gives hope to all humble members. 

Gele, 
When you speak the language of ceremony, 
Parties without you look dull. 
The guest that neglects you;
Misses greetings and attentions.

Gele, 
You are a tranquilizer! 
Your encounter with the white woman recently, 
Quenched the racism burning in her
And heralded the spirit of cosmopolitanism 

Gele, 
Sun rises and soon sets, 
People live and soon die, 
Flowers flourish and soon bow out. 
Yes they do! But not you,  Gele. 

Gele, 
You ingest desuetude in its entirety, 
Your laurel you kept at the zenith. 
You've turned glowing  and colorful from dark,
Now squinned and bling, adorned with stones and beads. 



© Olayiwola Tayelolu