He was rich in the morning
He swam too far in wealth for any man to reach
He was too far to hear the Poor’s mourning
Too busy to save a life with the offer of a fish
...
I want to tell you the history of tomorrow
It’s the history of how our leaders fulfilled a promise of light
By dumping us in the dark with pits everywhere
...
This poem is dedicated to Azu. It was written as a result of the ordeal he went through when someone he loved erased the footprints of her love from his life. Someone, he not only loved but nurtured.
My heart breaks like beaks of birds
Stricken against the mourning mountain
...
We were four friends
He was a real friend
We were four brothers
He was a real brother
...
Born in Kano for a new dawn
Raised for the people without frown
Grew with wills
Climbed the hills
...
It was the world's best park
Beaming with best of white and black
It was the stage for the world's best dance
With people gathered like they were locked in a trance
...
KGB as he is fondly called is a playwright cum poet. He is also a chartered accountant by profession. His love for poetry and thirst for touching lives with his works is overwhelming.)
The Rich Beggar
He was rich in the morning
He swam too far in wealth for any man to reach
He was too far to hear the Poor’s mourning
Too busy to save a life with the offer of a fish
No poor moved closer to his shadow
Like sparrows escaping arrows, they fled from him
Hearing his voice would only add to their sorrow
Even the voice he was freely given, was used to chastise them
He was richer than kings in the afternoon
He hated the needy, he rated the poor
‘Poor, poorer, poorest’ was the title of his best pop song
He would take a swig of his wine, wink at the poor like a man surrounded by stinking herd of swine
The night came when his light was gone
Like the lightening of thunders, his life was only lightened for a while
The glory of his gold could not be seen by men
He became poor, poorer than the poor
He became as calm as a dove
The goose and goslings that laid his golden eggs were rotting in the grave
His heart was as open as a broken nut
Yet, everyone shut their ears and doors against him
He wanted his shadow to be a shade for all men
Yet, even the ants saw him as a wild fire
People muttered wacky words against him
Words that hit him like pestles pounding empty mortars
He stretched forth his wretched hands to beg
Even the weak were eager to cut them
He wandered without destination, begging day and night
Everyone called him the rich beggar
Written on FEB,14 2008 by Adegbenro Adekunle Jacob
The Rich should show some love to the poor.