#Coliseum
I sat next to fright in
In a coliseum as tears
drips off my eyes so
she abandons little
suckling for greener pastures
in the wilderness beyond the
Mysterious beyond ;lost in the
legend of sorrow little suckling
was thrown in the state of oblivion
cast away to the abyss ahead of
our generation; the bitter and
cruel heart of breathing species
A stone heart a grammarian
May pun to qualify such madness
by mortals Unto mortals photons
of rays splashes on sucklings
imagery as blue moments played
through his mind giving occupance
in the span of this frail being; he grew
to maturity as opulence became
part of his identity I sat at my post as
a spectator watching this theatrical
spectacle as it unravels in my very
before; words passed with some
grain of salt like urea dripping
off my epidermis commanding
the cotton on my palm to do
it's dignified duty;
O! Poor lady for knocking the
cognizance of blunders past
Made I to decipher - yes! grok
the true nature of motherhood
Alas! Tis the mark of the red-ink
yet again, the black aqua that
runs through us emanating
slavery in our modern era.
I sat next to fright in
In a coliseum as tears
drips off my eyes so
she abandons little
suckling for greener pastures
in the wilderness beyond the
Mysterious beyond ;lost in the
legend of sorrow little suckling
was thrown in the state of oblivion
cast away to the abyss ahead of
our generation; the bitter and
cruel heart of breathing species
A stone heart a grammarian
May pun to qualify such madness
by mortals Unto mortals photons
of rays splashes on sucklings
imagery as blue moments played
through his mind giving occupance
in the span of this frail being; he grew
to maturity as opulence became
part of his identity I sat at my post as
a spectator watching this theatrical
spectacle as it unravels in my very
before; words passed with some
grain of salt like urea dripping
off my epidermis commanding
the cotton on my palm to do
it's dignified duty;
O! Poor lady for knocking the
cognizance of blunders past
Made I to decipher - yes! grok
the true nature of motherhood
Alas! Tis the mark of the red-ink
yet again, the black aqua that
runs through us emanating
slavery in our modern era.
A Poem by Esperanza Obene Ibim.
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