Patriotic Hymns Poem by chizitere ojiaka

The drum beats once heard
each drummer a drum held.
On the battle field of the south African veld,
each soldier's position the leader read.

For a son each mother wept
with sorrow all were swept.
In every heart only hope was left,
for truly no one knew what to expect.

Back to the South African veld,
only gunshots could be heard.
On each palm a loved one's picture was held,
as the ground with blood was fed.

More grief as news begun to come.
Life became unbearable for many and some.
Everyone in sadness became dumb,
and no one bothered about an empty tum.

Alas the survivors return!
Families scramble, no one takes a turn.
People return ready to mourn,
the loss of a brother, father or son.