I'm living in captivity,
Like you wouldn't believe.
They were saying this to me:
'There's no escape; but
anytime you can leave'
So tell me, what is a man to do,
When cornered by bitter old women?
Never should he use his fists!
should he use his words then?
I am not a man fully,
I am still a boy,
But if words are warriors for me,
Then I will destroy!
One thing is certain,
And one thing is clear:
I shall make them regret, ;
Every single minute of this year.
Oh everything is so clean,
But their hearts are filthy.
They managed a ceasefire with each other
Only to turn guns against me.
So finally there was a confrontation,
Finally the madam spoke.
Trembling as I was with fury,
She can be glad the chains never broke.
It was apparent to me right then,
And at that moment;
I felt laughter un-wrung,
It was funny to see
how short she really was;
Once she let out
all the noise from their lungs.
Still I was paralysed,
By the Iron ball on my back,
So I lifted eyes
and embraced my chains,
And with them;
I started swinging back.
Brilliant. Love the way you fight back in the last bit. 10/10
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
that's how I felt hiding inside from those gale force winds this weekend - this is a really good poem, thanks Nkuli. Really brings back to reality how important freedom is. You will have to translate Mandela's for me (I know, shame on me - I never learned my other languages)