A land of old.
Made out of gold.
Its sheer uniqueness unshared.
Inhabitants dwell in darkness.
Light seen but unrealized.
Hope dashed upon smartness.
Smartness filled with mischief.
Mischief from the thief.
The land of gold come from a source.
The source being the cause.
The cause is the thief.
The thief is a vessel.
Where we must hustle.
To survive.
I see people talking about this land.
Its too pure as if it was made out of a creators hand.
The world sees this.
But close their eyes wit a hiss.
The rising sun is pregnant.
The unborn is dominant.
I fill the pressure now.
The measure is low.
The inhabitants are angry.
To perceive the smell of the thief.
The wait patiently for a new chief.
A chief is born.
He came and gone.
Now our thoughts are thrown to prison.
Where our leader is shone.
The hopes of our children are to reason.
Reason out the mystery of dawn.
The dawn is still approaching.
I can fill the spirit even though its graduating.
Graduating into a nation.
The nation the thief wont like to mention.
The nation is not a fiction.
It is BIAFRA.
Beautiful poem from a cleaver poet. another shall be born, he shall not be a chief but a king who will reign forever and lead the nation to everlasting freedom. God bless you for sharing.
Sincerely, I've fallen in love with this poem BIAFRA, I so much love it. Great poem.
I remember first learning about Biafra way back in the 1970s when the English photographer Don McCullim published his photos in an American magazine. He was behind the line of combat but Nigerian troops were closing in. There was abject suffering in those photos I've never forgotten. And that is exactly the strength of your poem: the cause of Biafra is kept alive in your words, the cry for justice and an end to oppression rings true. This is a poem about keeping hope alive until hipe is a reality.
Such an interesting poem you have written... keep up the good work... i rate it 10++++ You may visit my PHILIPPINE INDEPENDENCE DAY.... Thanks....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beautiful depiction of the looming rebirth of a nation which has been enduring oppression for long, well articulated and insightfully penned in good poetic diction with conviction. Lovely piece of poetry nicely brought forth in good rhyme scheme. Thanks for sharing Collins. Please read my poem MANDELA - THE IMMORTAL ICON.