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This work is licensed under a Creative Commons License.
The Printable Version PRINTABLE VERSION
by Samuel K Akinbo, Nigeria Jul 21, 2007
Human Rights , Peace & Conflict   Poetry

  

The tell the wind,
to cease his motion.
and rub love like lotion

Headed head,
cry in jagged edge hole,

Full loaded city,
now mourn the steps,
and noise of his beloved

Cows lost their horns
Kings lost their crown...
imagine! the mat seller
Now sleep on bare floor...

An ocean was just created,
a pool on anguish and sorrow,
dug up by sword of vandal...

A lot of black attire merchant,
now makes money,
all in the name of mourning

I wish all hear these,
if so,
can I borrow your tongue.







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Samuel K Akinbo


I AM SAMUEL A CRITIC AND SOMEONE THAT LOOKS AT THINGS FROM AN INSIGHT. I LOVE TO SING AND WRITE ABOUT THE IRONY OF LIFE.

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