NEW POEM: Letter From A Country’s Death Row Side


Dear wind that blows here and there,

Bear our rhymed drear

Wind your way, salvation’s eye,

find Kind minds, show what man has done

to one – his kind,

Before the hangman’s gallow, we daily stand

With hope and toils, only our lives to ‘mand,

We, freeman – prisoners of a country’s death row side,

To the fortune of waking, we rise to yet a circle of torturous tide,

Sheer luck, we gain the morrows –

Like raffle draws – but to our sorrows

At forty, we are beaten to eighty’s shape –

Remnants, still whittling down to our bread -struggle’s scrape

Let him who will not work not eat – goes a holy writ

Deep in labour, we hunger still – our woeful grit

We seek survival in death’s greedy hand –

Where some, most untimely, there do reprimand

Like souls struggling in the depth of sea,

Our lives – a better day to see

Here, we bestride life and death

When we live our sapped, unfortunate part of a blessed earth.

Also Read: POEM: Nigerian Child



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