It Is Raining
It is raining,
Over the roof of my building,
Not inside the seal of our conscience.
Our conscience seal fear the rain
The rain is eternal and unceasing.
Yet, it doesn’t wet the ground,
The sounds are for farmers.
Listen, listen to the rhythm
Of the words of the rain,
It is raining all the day long,
Drops on the living,
Drops on the dead
Drops on the innocent
Drops on the guilty
It is raining very high
Every second minute and hour
When will it stop?
No body can say
The rain of crime -
The rain of false hood,
The rain of oppression.
Is it coming hard on you?
Will you arise to your defence?
Aha! I can hear you whisper, “No”
Why? When freedom is our wish.
When sunshine is our desire
I wish it is not raining on our future hopes.
The little innocent kids in the cradles.
It falls on the weathering dry leaves -
Yet, they are not revived
Is it not a mystery that it chose to breed its offspring.
Here in our planet earth?
Offsprings that lost our nation treasure.
The ones that sit on our promotions in offices.
The ones that want to remain rulers forever.
The ones that traffic our females to oversea countries for prostitution.
It is raining not drizzling.
It is raining not dropping.
It is raining now and will remain forever.
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Comments about this poem (It Is Raining by CHIKA OGBONNA )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(January 6, 1883 – April 10, 1931)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(30 December 1865 – 18 January 1936)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
William Butler Yeats
(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
(24 January 1572 - 31 March 1631)
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