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Samuel Choji Pam Poem
In the arrogance of my silence I stand,
Facing the hill of pressure,
Sweat and tears rolling down,
The fears of my voice spoke with assurance,
My day is fighting to bloom,
But my time asking for insurance,
Is it really hard?
Further is a bedlam,
Needful for the miscarriage of my mind,
Though the vision knows no limit,
With the cries of time,
This protest in search of the blueprint,
Even infinite words won't describe the imprint.
Copyright © Samuel Choji Pam | Year Posted 2015
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Details |
Samuel Choji Pam Poem
A generation that grew to see,
The battle handed them,
Atrocities the metropoles did,
Submerged in their existence,
Their dreams sold as they were discovered,
Self-doubt staining their minds,
Enjoyed nature,
Same nature watched them being nurtured,
Nurtured with chains and whips,
Having no whims and caprices,
Their history bacame a luxury,
The pale saw a wrong with the black,
Above that, he saw the economy,
Now lost for centuries,
With the foundation being injustice,
What he was still haunts,
I am a man of colour,
My blood isn't colourless,
Neither is my skin,
Though that of my soul, I do not know,
Certainly, my conscience is battered like a faded jean,
Fitted for a plow,
Yet with the beauty and radiance of a lawn.
Copyright © Samuel Choji Pam | Year Posted 2015
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