Preacher Boy Poem by Babalola Augustine Adeola

Preacher Boy

Rating: 3.3


Come let me tell you your doom!
Now that you parade
The savannah and the forests,
Roaming freely and feeding on others
Both the weak and the strong you scared
Under your thunderous voice,
They bow with their flags
You carry so much power that even the silence obeys.

Hmm... Heraclitus.
'Life is in a state of continuous flux'

Let me tell you your doom.
One day,
You will go out never to return,
You will speak and not be heard.
Power will betray you by shifting its camp
You will wish and beggers will not ride

This will be your doom,
In your six feet mansion
Or in a ceramic jar on the shelve.

Friday, October 3, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: politics
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
OYEPEJU 29 July 2018

Power or not, an end is inevitable. No man is above the 6feet period.

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Kay Staley 03 October 2014

Why will the power leave and not return?

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Gangadharan Nair Pulingat 03 October 2014

Mystery of life in such circumstances beautifully a poem.

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