A Valediction: of the Poor
I seldom bred a token for
despair
Out of innocence,
meekness, pain or worse
I'd rather wear the sand-
hill, plucking air
Engaging folds of plants
in cold discourse.
I seldom pleased the lure
of brilliant pleas
Nor gave mine ears to
beggar calls and cries
I'd rather cleave to
laughter, ringing breeze
Impress'd in kennel
choirs of rats and flies.
I seldom flew the tales of
tomorrow
As said in gatherings of
public clowns
Exchange all cheerfulness,
in mine, sorrow
I owe nothing to men,
nor homes, nor towns.
I seldom felt the hands of
wealth and fame
I know I lived a life and
lived w'thout shame.
Copyright © Mustapha Mosi Gomina | Year Posted 2013
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