No longer can I write abed with ease,
For my bedewed body Writhes in pain
Dire Ailments, why me? can I be plain?
I wilt like a lily rose struck by a disease-
...
The muffled sound of the driven dirge,
Beyond all limits it howled ceaselessly-
In the cemetery towards every edge
Untimely death slyly jabbed listlessly-
...
A sophisticated young sprightly poet from South Africa who emerged from the confines of hardship but instead of being dispirited by dire circumstances which tormented him he pushed his pen and toiled in order to accost God to spread his wings.)
In My Weakest Weeks
No longer can I write abed with ease,
For my bedewed body Writhes in pain
Dire Ailments, why me? can I be plain?
I wilt like a lily rose struck by a disease-
In the world where sun does not cease
To God I pray through a window pane,
Where I can behold no obnoxious stain,
Where I can breath with a sheer peace
O'er my pangs I put a variety of splints
Which reduces my intermittent affliction
splint on bruises, oh it sprightly sprints-
Rapidly like rodents driven by affection
In my Weakest Weeks my hope splits
Becomes pale and turns into a Fiction