Sunday Igwebuike

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Wind Alone

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As I walked profusely, On the streets, I thought little children, Would see my visibility, Yet none did! I thought of a beautiful girl, To marry, Yet none cared enough, To look on me. Till I amassed my strength, And pulled down, The citadel! As they talked, One fell in love, With my enormity! And I grabbed, And moved on!

Sunday Igwebuike

Friday, August 12, 2016

Topic(s) of this poem: africa

poem poems beautiful children girl strength

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POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM

Potential is nothing, until something is made of it. No man is honoured, until he achieves some thing worthwhile for humanity. The citadel in the old Roman architecture is the centre of the town like town hall where all the major activities take place. Pulling it down(upturning the activities there) brings instant recognition and celebration.

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