Musings Of A Dead Old Man Poem by Gilbert Alasa

The ample stage a heed flung
And beseech those who crave to snoop
Its counsel
The familiar lots disdain, blaring
A man’s back doth not lean

Instead, thy solo boat steer
Amidst abounding tempting sounds
But exploring her widespread parts
Grazing the ugly white feeds
All alone

Like a miserable flock without a shepherd
The day the little crab hatched
Its mother’s milk doth not rely
But daily toil the slippery shores
With its infant, greasy feet