March 2050
The rivers and oceans wept bitterly,
As the blood of humans joined fearfully.
Motionless figures stood asleep,
None standing on earth to weep.
Many could not watch the winds blow.
No one knows whether its winter or snow.
Spread here and there are humans as grain;
Nothing is seen to quench taste even rain.
No more the hustling and the human rush
When you awaken at the morning' hush.
The soft stars shine not again at night
Darkness covered the circled moon' flight.
No piece of the sinners soul could be saved,
The folly of them made the day blind.
Don't look for me among the pitied sinners
I am not there, I have moved to the churches.
(C) John Chizoba Vincent
Voice Of Vincent 2016
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem