We are the natives of the street
Holed-up Under the bridges
We are necessary
We are part of existence
Major fragments of the globe
As the day chameleons to nights
You slump in the warmth of your beds
And the heat of the loved ones
We also embrace the cozy
Cardboard beds laid on stinks
As the night injects us with cool breeze and endurance.
We sleep and dream
And have conferences with
The Indigenes of the elusive world
When it's day, In bundle
We pack our belongings
And move on with our days
Standing, Kneeling and bending
To beg for alms just for a day
Necessary part of your society.
Translators of our dreams
Carriers of our burdens
Angel's,we open gates
Of your blessings
That take your lack
We are homeless, not hopeless
This makes as rile at hereafter
When death opens the gate
To the second phase.
-
Author:
Abdulfatai Taofeeqah (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: February 10th, 2018 01:08
- Comment from author about the poem: The poor people are humans, let's listen to their cries and help them.
- Category: Sad
- Views: 12
Offline)
Comments2
This is a good voice for the poor - they shouldn't be invisible.
Exactly
They should be treated Equally
Well written and expressed
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.