Precious Days Of Old Poem by Quame Boatmann

Precious Days Of Old



Gone are the days of our forefathers
where civilization had not begun
a child had no place in the gathering of elders

Gone are the good old days,
where a child’s freedom is kept by the parent,
signals and signs were used to chastise the child

Still gone are the precious days of our fathers
where religiosity had no varieties
obedience was at its peak

Oh gone are the precious days where fathers ruled with the rod, discipline was at its best
and vices were sieved before adulthood

Gone are the dark days, where fires were the only lights in the nights a girl conceives at the age of a woman
following appropriate rites
and a boy tastes the meal of his father
only at the age of a matured man

Gone are the days where a child of one man is the child of the whole community
and still where a child mellows to any elder
oh gone are the days that these people were called uncivilized ancients

Now here are the days of our days
where civilization abounds
childhood and adulthood have no significance
and the ways of adults are the ways of children

Here are our days where the freedom of children are released from the book of laws,
even trumpet voices do nothing to the ears of a child

Here are the civilized days of abundant religion
where the sword of the spirit abounds
yet obedience is not named among the children of civilization

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