Poems: SET THE CAPTIVE FREE(3 in 1)



SET THE CAPTIVE FREE
Break This Yoke of oppression
Set the captives free
Lift this burden
From their hearts
From bandage free them

Wipe these tears
Let there be beautiful symphonic of laughter
Let joy flow in their hearts
And happiness in their frame
Let them breathe the air of freedom
And savor the sweet aroma of independence

The way to freedom
Is long and hazardous
It is fraught
With dangerous twists and bends
But you sure would get there


Let the one being pursued
B y the masquerade persevere
Let in not give in to fatigue
For his plight is not different
From the masquerades

 Break his yoke of oppression
Set the captive free

READ:KEEP THE DREAM ALIVE AND POSITIVE ADVERSITY(Misfortune)


IT'S CHRISTMAS
The church bells are chiming again,
The organ pipes keyboard are blaring forth sweet
And sonorous music,
The man of God is on his way to church,
The bible under his armpit,
The season of good will is here again,
Of warm message and boxed gifts.


But do they k now it’s Christmas?
The hungered multitude in Ethiopia
The starving mouths in Sudan, Rwanda,
Liberia, Angola,
In the on of Africa.


Yesterday I had indigestion,
 I turned round and round on my bed,
My stomach kept churning
A result of overeating.

Then I had a voice,
first as advice,
later admonition
and a reproach
on the conscience of humanity

‘ye who have enough are
chubby-cheeked,

Checkout The Poem -"UP- BEAT THE RACE OF LIFE"

SONG OF THE POOR
 I went to bed last night
Without a morsel in my mouth
I woke up this morning
With a parched throat and
With worms stirring my stomach.
I visited the pharmacist and he said:
‘What you need are vitamin pills
And worm expeller to regain
Your sapped strength’.

‘This is the limit, I moaned.
If I had the means I would buy
Gari to prepare hot steaming Eba
If I had the mean I would buy
Rice to prepare good old tuwo masara
If I had the means I would buy
Yam flour to prepare Amala
But the system denies me my due
I’m a volcano on the verge of eruption
I’m a time-bomb ticking toward explosion

I go to work in a dingy, dusty establishment
I leave home and come back at a time
When a man is recognized
Not by his face
But by his voice
My back bent and
My hands are swollen
When my wages are due.


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