john chizoba vincent
When - Poem by john chizoba vincent
When shall we smile again?
When shall the farmers return?
When shall all fingers become equal?
When shall mothers return to the kitchen?
When shall the lizard have hairs on their back?
When shall the He goat smell no more?
When shall the heavens come to the earth?
(I don't know where things are going this time)
The rivers are now red and black,
The rivers where my forebears fished before going;
Whose fault is it that the children are weeping?
When shall we dance around the road like the
Children that knows nothing of what tomorrow
Will bring to their table?
When shall we clap and look the sun on the face?
(This is not the world I used to know when I was a child)
The road to our yesterday is resurrenting,
The fields are out grown by demon grasses,
The moon speaks of pain along the sky lines,
When shall all the animal called man repent
Of urinating into the stream meant for their brothers?
Shall we remain dumb and die a silent men?
(Yesterday was better in my beloved country)
I am not a silent poet but my mouth is shutting
Down from yesterday's whip from the hooligans,
I have seen beyond my eyes and my ears are no more
On my head but at their room, where they feed it
With a crooked smelling words of corruption.
When shall the snake go in group?
When shall all humans be in unity and peace? !
(Many are left uncloth between the sahara and no hope)
Make sure you don't start seeing yourself through
the eyes of those who don't value you.
Know your worth even if they don't but how can we
When we are voiceless and blind like the bat?
it's a virgin season and we all know its worth;
our hopes are up to its peak and we must act,
our minds are set to the season and we must move
it's time to right all wrongs without asking yesterday.
(Every man is answerable to his God)
Hold no hurt against your follow brother in the field;
bear no grudges we are fighting for one course,
give out love and make peace with your household,
hold our tongues so that we fall not into temptation,
listen to our hearts crying in the black forest;
but our heads are on the world of their own,
our brains should think of unity not killing,
Our brain should think of development not bombing.
(When pain hurt is when you habour it in mind)
our hands should work not looking Forth to dine
With those that had worked hard the day before.
The hands of our clocks should walk faster 'cause
Life is too short to waste a second there off.
our ages elevate everyday and we take no notice,
we get no younger as the clock tick and tack,
we all get older someday when life becomes more interesting to us and it's time to think, make amends for the years if we don't want to get lost in the forest
But; when shall we be remembered and listened to?
(All the roses of this world was planted by one man)
Comments about When by john chizoba vincent
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
A Dream Within A Dream
Edgar Allan Poe