They are mothering mothers
Who without conscience curse
The intriguing bloods that tend to
Flow into the wineskin of a foresight
For a greater tomorrow on this arid land!
They are mothering mothers
Who, after buying our rights
With a token, take for granted
Our long suffering and pride
To the brimming of their purse.
They are mothering mothers
Who, in the name of the most sacred,
Sack our loyalty for their worship,
Desecrate and exploit the Zionists
And shame the jihadists to a folly.
They are mothering mothers
Who chalk to cheering chair
Just to share the sheer naivety
Of the incubating soldiers of schools of thought
Neglecting the approaching tomorrow.
They are mothering mothers
That fail to nurture to growth
The hopes of the living dead,
The pains of the wick whose
Grail light groans to extinction.
They are mothering mothers
Who never see hope in a hewn
Tree but damnation and forgotten dreams.
A world full of these mothering mothers
Has doom loom on its hope.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nice poem. Thanks for sharing. Kingsley Egbukole