john chizoba vincent

Rookie - 672 Points (18 may 1990 / Aba, Abia stae)


Through this road of sorrow i walk in pains
Looking up to the gathering cloud of
Thunderous rain
I was pushed to the world as an outcast.
My spirit groaned and wailed.
The soil hated my footsteps
Just as the sun hit my eyes as i looked it in the face.
in the air, On the water, where they have traced their signs
Fear a silent man, he has lips like a drum.

Nothing have i done that pleases men,
Even the water are scared of me.
If i narrate gently, gently, you won't believe
That the rain fall not in my home
And the winds keeps away from me.
In misery i was born
Could it be i die in misery?
They hated where i stepped on Just as i give ears
To their cries, to their wild appeal
However, they despised me horribly.

Upon this mountain i howl everyday,
I have held out my fingers red with blood.
Blood from bruises, blood from within.
I dared not look into their faces nor talk without fear.
My stomach kept rumbling harshly
No food and water to feed in.
The heart of the wise man lies quiet like limpid water.

I am down cast by men,
Discriminated and thrust to the wall.
My spirit seek nothing but love
But It received reproach in return And
Became scared to live.
If i cry roughly of my torment
What eyes would watch my large mouth?

Sad complaining of the voiceless<
Who shall hear me without laughter?
When the moon is shinning,
the cripple becomes hungry for a walk.
Although the heart has it own reason which the reasons
It self ignore.
I wish i could be listen to and care for.

i see dark torment each time i close my eyes.
My legs shivered at the sight of them.
In case you see me soliloquizing
It is not fault.
I have seen hell in their hands
Enslaved and maltreated like a slave,
Drenched by the rain with no cause.
My right they have taken openly
And no soul stand to fight for me.
i know someday it shall be well
Soon or later i shall be accepted and live like others.

Submitted: Thursday, May 01, 2014

Topic of this poem: POEM

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