There is a needy kitchen
Not faraway the rich bin
There are sicking pots
With tommy up and lizards casting lots
Web, the fence to defend the spider
Flies riding in hunger as a sad rider
Stove in cold war with grains
As the pot couldn't have a taste from a rain
Stone gathered for bread
And phlegm ready as stew to glut the bread
Sweat the water to drink
Who shall love to drink?
The rich bin
Dining daily, even giving the lack in being
Sweet aroma day and night
Pleading the day to turn off the light
Bread in much in store
And sweet taste water in ready to drink store
Beggers grabbing from the bin
All suddenly becomes friend to the bin
From the window a crying tone of a child
Crying and praying to be a friend the rich child
The rich heard the cry
And wished to lie and better try
The child cry more aloud
And reach to the cloud
The heavens then shed tears
Like a old fashion rags in tears
The rich bin in cold
The needy kitchen wax old
Maybe we are all needy
In garment of hope, but never ready
If I have and give out not
Then all I have is a big naught
If I smile and watch other crying
Then I'm the most miserable kind smiling
All I have are for others
Without fear and mind orders
If my bin is rich
And your kitchen lacks bread to reach
Then I am also in need
Cos one way or the other, we one thing in need.
A refined poetic imagination, Ifeoluwa Philips. You may like to read my poem, Love And Iust. Thank you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beautiful and interesting reading. Thanks for sharing