i
the grain sacks shed tears of emptiness
their heads drop in pathetic folds
the gluttons are the green caterpillars
eaters without replenish…
and the keen hoes at the corner
are blunt from rusty whet
the land groans in the groins
from the grips of callous and ruthless roots…
and now hunger umpires
the lawns of our bowels…
ii
they leave the house barren
and cart away the seed of hope in the barn…
alas! their breeds of white fowls
are concealed leeches of lies
they plant debts… grains of debts
a canker for the aging baba
they have plagued baba’s hunt
a decoy for the games of change…
dennis, things happen in this wilderness
vines die and the caterpillars live…
iii
baba has shaken the sacks
and here it is…
the last cup of grains…
and this must suffice
for mother and ‘wazobia’
shall we soak this in the water of hope?
and sing ‘arise O grains’
to the beats of these hopeless spoons
for the soaked grains must rise
to be enough for all.
Nice words sire...
ReplyDeleteThank you for stopping by sir...I am inspired.
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