I Slept, harmlessly in my mother’s womb,
I was born in a small rural camp;
I am not the only preferred man;
I am not the only sanctified one;
Neither am I wealthy nor deprived;
Neither am I the noble nor beggar;
Neither the opening nor the ending;
I am the endless in living or lifeless;
As a son of a lovely mother
The mass put me on road together;
And someone opened my closed eyes
Placed my lips to her ****** eyes
Heavy winds of time passed
Mountains valleys, rivers I crossed
I was beaten up by the strangers
For the sins of many others
I sawed the seeds of good
But they gave me no food
I prayed for others deadly sins
But killed without a next kin.
*
By
Williamsji Maveli
Email:
williamsji@yahoo.com
Poetry dates all the way back to the beginnings of Humanity. People have always been questioning nature, and the day-to-day existence of themselves and other humans love, death, survival, war, injustice, and the universe are all examples of things that have been questioned by men and woman since the roots of human existence. Whether in nursery rhyme, ballad, jingle, rhyme, anthem, or music,people have found poetry to be an outlet for expressing these questions, sensations, and experiences
People often associate it with strict rhyming patterns, complicated vocabulary, hidden iconic meanings, and difficult rhythmical conventions. Poetry is even taught in school to be an intricate, complicated, inexplicable puzzle. True, poetry is difficult. Sure, it can be harder to understand
than prose. However, that is only because sometimes it is involved with your inescapable complexities and uncertainties of your existence.
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