Betraying my muteness,
exposing my thoughts,
breaking my silence,
like a hermits' chronicle.
Alienating my wishy-washy state,
provoking a consciousness.
Breaking the yoke of fear,
stirs up a doggedness.
With an askance glance,
a nefarious activity is detected.
In truth, we stand!
In wisdom, we believe!!
In lines and verses, we speak!!!
Gazing at the sky,
casting my mind back,
Oh! Rabeeya's thoughts...
"A writer is a human being,
trying to create places,
between words and spaces".
I do it for the people,
I do it for the depressed,
I do it for the downtrodden,
I do it for those folks who still believe in redemption,
I do it for love,
I do it for humanity.
Holy thy pen,
mightier than sword,
soaked in wisdom,
possessed with power.
To say that the ink is dry,
is an abjure of moral allegiance;
an abuse of elementary divine-ordinance.
With an exceptional effulgence,
it echoes my thoughts.
My ink, my voice!
© A. O. Nwulia Literary Diary 2014
Mar 18, 2017
Mar 18, 2017 at 3:19 AM UTC
Betraying my muteness,
exposing my thoughts,
breaking my silence,
like a hermits' chronicle.
Alienating my wishy-washy state,
provoking a consciousness.
Breaking the yoke of fear,
stirs up a doggedness.
With an askance glance,
a nefarious activity is detected.
In truth, we stand!
In wisdom, we believe!!
In lines and verses, we speak!!!
Gazing at the sky,
casting my mind back,
Oh! Rabeeya's thoughts...
"A writer is a human being,
trying to create places,
between words and spaces".
I do it for the people,
I do it for the depressed,
I do it for the downtrodden,
I do it for those folks who still believe in redemption,
I do it for love,
I do it for humanity.
Holy thy pen,
mightier than sword,
soaked in wisdom,
possessed with power.
To say that the ink is dry,
is an abjure of moral allegiance;
an abuse of elementary divine-ordinance.
With an exceptional effulgence,
it echoes my thoughts.
My ink, my voice!
© A. O. Nwulia Literary Diary 2014
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