Wednesday, November 19, 2014

Dying souls- by Oseni Yusuf



Mothers of my land they dream of becoming
But in dilemma they are, groaning
In the agony of horror.

Oppressing dreams of yester years
Through the sour-sounds of gun
That has become a thorn of
Untold hardship in the lives of many.

Tears roll on their cheek
Like dew on morning flowers.

Authorities of the land bow for the
Avoidable shame of the rebelling souls,
With demands that rule thoughts of insanity
From the rebel-lords.

Dancing in the show of shame
In my dear land, with the loudable melody
Of bomb that beclouds a peaceful land.

Tongue wagging for the number one man
Of the land for succour but little or
Know act from his part.

What a land! Cage by the powerful
Hands of few “boko-slams”.

Smiles to the world we honor to strangers,
But mockery entity we are
In the comity of Nations.

Oh! Our dying souls whose breakthrough
Know no clue at present, but hoping on
The invisible means of God.

By: OSENI Yusuf
 

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