My Identity - Poem by KHAYA CLARENCE

Dearest little village,
My home
Where the grass at all is brown and sparse
The sun comes early and the rain is despaired
The arrogant birds often soar apass for a lack of green
Corn suffered repeated humiliation from drought
Though peace is large loneliness riped
My father toiled in this village as a young boy
I then fled here for a lack of hope
Pity in the face of the inhabitants,
In their tears a sense of duty appeared
In abright vividness
It is in this village that my birth came.

Topic(s) of this poem: art

Comments about My Identity by KHAYA CLARENCE

  • Rajnish Manga (3/4/2015 2:36:00 AM)

    Village life is tough but when there is so much suffering, it becomes all the more difficult. You have sketched those circumstances in horrifying details along with the resilience of village folk. Thanks, I like it. (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, March 4, 2015

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