LOST ORPHANS
I Under the palm wine tree of mami agba, We danced and tossed all night around the fires of the night, With an in-depth love and unity we shared. Entertained with tales of tortoise and his toised pricks, Of Asin toun tokere in the nights of Eve, Got carried away with the taste of palm wine, Diving into me with the taste of roasted bush meat. II The tales triumphed on from the tongues of elders, Accompanied with the didactic words and warnings of our time, All emanating for future references, That we may not be pulled and pushed by the wind of time, Or drenched in the flaws of our nature. III Time chirped and days unravelled, We became orphans left with no taste to savour, No milk to suck from our mothers' breasts, Nor a lullaby to hear to lure our sleep. Fathers died in battles and mothers wailing as remnant of war, We are alone like the alpha of Adam's time, the omega of mankind. Alone, like an island surrounded by waters of civilization and ignorance. IV Now the reality of life is revealed, Reality of our loss, lost to ignorance. Our hands got crawled up, shrinked not to till anymore the land of our time, Not anymore to withhold the calabash of our future, Our calabash left with tales and wise words of our elders, That we inherited from our dead who are yet to be buried, When they are very much alive, but washed off by wars of civilization. Alas! We lost it! V Now our cloud is bumpy, but the earth bears the fault, Our birds cannot fly, claimed the goat took its wings, Our maidens are pregnant, but civilization is responsible, We have fountain, yet begs for a deserted land, Our trees are filled with fruits, we gnash our teeth in hunger, We have gold, but craves for stone, Our eyes are opened, yet our sight cannot lead the blinds. We are juveniles of many, but Master of none. We are Lost Orphans. . Thomas Oluwatosin ©Fearless Lines
2021-03-28 13:16:44
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Question 1?/Вопрос 1?
The girl that questions everything,is a girl that needs many answers.She wanders the earth trying to find the person that can answer her many queries.Everthing she writes has a hidden question that makes her heart ache and her head hurt.She spends days writing sad story's that she forgets her sad life.Shes in a painful story that never ends,she's in a story that writes itself.The pages in the book were filled ever so easy,because her heart wrote it for her.She spent her life being afraid,that's what made it so boring.Finding her passion was easy,but fulfilling it was the hardest part of all.Her writing may be boring and sad,but it's what keeps her sane. "She had all the questions in the word,and he had all the answers." Lillian xx
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"Письмо ушедших дней"
Привет , мой милый друг Забыл ли ты, как долго не писала , Прости ,но я хотела отпустить Всю слабостью ,что в себе искала . И может ты проник Моим письмом до дрожи Забыл ли мой дневник , Увиденный стихами одинокой ночи ... Об памяти прошедших дней , Ты не увидишь ни души порока Лишь слабый шепот чувств Уложенных строками тонко . Немой вопрос в глазах Оставлю с времям на последок Легонько холодом касаний уходя , Чтоб не запомнил запах пепла.
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