Memory Poverty Poems

I posed no questions 
before my erroneous conception
I never asked to be or not to be
Serenading deserted streets with dirges 
exploring absence in back alleys
reciting...

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Chess

Let us play a game. 
We will act like there are two sides, 
and the scales are even. 
I have seen the metal weights, 
they...

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On the banks of river folks gathered solemnly
Where in repose lay the body of his father;
Dry dead-wood was stacked in layers they built,
Fire was crackling,...

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I was a minister of the gospel, very happily living my life for the Lord,
Preaching the Word every Sunday, in the spirit of affinity and...

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I was asked why I always 
Give kids on my streets few shillings 
Even though 
The street has no memory
It will kill me when it...

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There was a time long ago when I felt inferior
For we didn’t have the niceties when I was a lad,
Our home was furnished of the...

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I must confess that I once dreamt
Of a knight of noble honor
He existed in the first specs of my memory
Which grows weaker as my mind...

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where we are born is a coin toss
some are lucky some are not
here we live a sheltered life
ignorant of the injustices in other lands
we take...

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For a few coins Melord, I'll tell a story of two that met in this place, 
and here you can take your rest, and leave...

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When the stomach of a child
Who has overfed rumbles, it is not 
In memory of the empty hands of the past
Or what the future holds...

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I’m about to tell what’s an important story,
Of a singer who is sadly now long gone,
Whose story needs some increased recognition,
He could p’raps be described...

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Six months after my Mother decided to move 
     out of the house, which only she and I shared. 

 ...

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Her shoes worn- now but thin thread
her clothes hung in rags
Yet, I saw something in her eyes-
so deep within- pride
her footsteps were light and dainty
and...

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Rag-picker  (Poetic Form ::  LaDán )

Initial days of journalism, I got one
task to cover the rag-picker's life.
Met one boy in street, to learn...

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Do, at night, flowers dream of their death?
The thought, admittedly is a poetic one,
but I find that absurdity,
is often a step ahead of knowledge.
I, being...

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