Amid great darkness
A beautiful light appeared
Carbon filaments
Incandescently lighting
Moving man out of darkness
I am not a fan
Nor am I a voter
I am just a poet
Definitely not a quitter.
You can say I am creative
But I am not an activist
Words are my calling
There is something about poems
That I need to be reporting.
Journalism is not my profession
I am a writer
A story teller
A humanitarian
Politics is not my forte
But I do have a few questions
Teresa May a woman of class
I guess your house is made of glass.
Nothing broken everything perfect
All things polish and shine
Teresa May look around you
Kensington is in great mourning.
Spend a day down Holland Park
Stroll through Ladbroke Grove
Stride down Latimer Road
Observe, look around, shake a hand or two.
Share a little tear
Listen to the public affairs
What do you hear
Fear, anguish and pain.
Teresa May the crowd is in dismay
Souls lost, children burnt, homes destroyed
Nothing here to gain.
Five million pounds cannot repair
Applications forms online
What a sarcastic smear
Teresa May time to shame
Just take the blame.
Black! a word that always tend to stir
From ages hath caused a birr
after decades of raging war
they still shir!!
Black exist in all, a part
be it the color of eyes, skin or heart
or the thoughts and actions
only few can see, those smart.
At night the stars shine bright
Jesse, Oprah, Doris, Latimer to cite
For the major role they played
in every field, but still smite
All the efforts were in vain
of King, Douglass and others who did strain
for they are doomed to be remembered
a few days, a month, feign!
Without night there’s no day
for they go hand in hand and play
so hath universe been created
and yet the world seems to stray
there is no black history, oh blind!
for it is the history of mankind
to be remembered and revered
forever keep in mind
@ Nadiya (24 Feb '15)
*Placed 1st in the contest 'Writings in a Black Perspective' by Verlena S Walker on 19 March 2015
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