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Rating: 5.0

I had worried in the nights
These had robbed me many peaceful sleeps
I had wondered in days
Wishing for me, time would reveal
Why the world continues to cry?

Stories I tell never get old
For where they came from,
they are written in bold
Their blueprints are printed by an ink of blood

They sail back to slave ships
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Monday, June 8, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: freedom
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
Freedom is still a dream. People are not doing what they ought to but what they like. We can't have freedom when people still do what they like.
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COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Chinedu Dike 30 January 2020

Really a poignant bit of verse on freedom, well conceived and nicely crafted with insight. A witty work of art. Thanks for sharing and do remain enriched.

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cables 11 January 2018

o opile kgomo lenaka Kevean

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Ndina Kamaro Muofhe 15 January 2018

deep soul. lenaba. lol.

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