Gilbert Alasa

(Edo State, Nigeria)

The Forsaken Limits


When I chose to pitch this tent
Beyond these forbidden limits, I sense
A sweaty embrace of a lonely realm
This bewitching little, little cares now I crave

Yet, old paternal pledges forbade
Flocking filthy trails amidst phony folks
Lost in the rhythm of vicious lots
Serving a master I do not know

Who the dump my head tossed
The path of repose I do not know
Even while bringing the sky low
The escape of this rain now I long

For, fleeing from the snare’s greasy clutch

Submitted: Saturday, April 04, 2009
Edited: Saturday, April 04, 2009
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  • Is It Poetry (4/4/2009 12:42:00 PM)

    A traveling caravan trying to have the rain wash the stench of us away..it is how I would travel...most excellent idea...thank you..iip (Report) Reply

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