More than a poem: A poem

Whenever YOU read a poem, what comes to mind?

Do you think and think and think of the reason behind?

Do you often live in it or do you see something it seeks to remind?

All we do is for souls to live either in fast forward or even in rewind.

'Cause life is indeed a struggle, life is a pain,

Sometimes in life we snuggle, and other times too we write to entertain.

Life is a mystery, life is a stage,

Sometimes it appears as a delivery, and other times we live it but page by page.

What a strange world, what a strange life!

Someone dies, and the People are crying,

But wait, he wakes, and same are running.

But why, does his waking pierces as a knife?

Someone is struggling with sickness,

He needs help, but none comes which leaves him in distress.

When same dies, they travel streets and rivers for his corpse to burry,

Yet, when same needed help family and friends lived with him but never gave it in a hurry.

The other day a sister died living behind a toddler,

Her siblings wept their hearts out about how the toddler could survive.

There and then everyone cuddled the child,

And hugged and touched and kissed him with thoughts much humbler,

But when days passed by and the kid needed care to strive,

Everyone expected everyone to be in the best position for the needs of the kid to chide,

And they all left this child to live but nothing any better than a pauper.

Many a women throng spiritual places looking for husband and for children,

Many others also fill the gutters, the septic tanks and other, with their foetuses.

People who have needles, don't have thread, and they that have thread, have no needles.

Those who see truth and speak the truth have no voice,

They that have voices have no words nor speech.

Have you not observed, lately, that while in school, and after,

Those who were the intelligent ones go into medicine, law, journalism, and others,

The second in intelligence go into nursing, teaching and others,

But wait, where are they that were seen as the less intelligent, though we  need people to run the affairs of the country?

Whenever YOU read a poem, what comes to mind?

Do you think and think and think of the reason behind?

Do you often live in it or do you see something it seeks to remind?

All we do is for souls to live either in fast forward or even in rewind.

'Cause life is indeed a struggle, life is a pain,

Sometimes in life we snuggle, and other times too we write to entertain.

Life is a mystery, life is a stage,

Sometimes it appears as a delivery, and other times we live it but page by page.

Written by

The Phenomenal Poet

Gladys Alasid Mbilla

[email protected]

+233556491371