tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2489260700114737732.post6081856801144629025..comments2023-02-28T08:14:30.948-08:00Comments on THE POWER OF ART, POETRY, LOVE, COMPASSION, FORGIVNESS BY MARYLA WILSON: If I Were A FlowerMaryla Wilsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13401801323160082561noreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2489260700114737732.post-32438183095002167642012-03-30T11:37:16.261-07:002012-03-30T11:37:16.261-07:00Thank you James for your poemThank you James for your poemMaryla Wilsonhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13401801323160082561noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2489260700114737732.post-56057751865100831212011-07-03T04:20:22.600-07:002011-07-03T04:20:22.600-07:00MY PLIGHT
I have a question
That will lead me to m...MY PLIGHT<br />I have a question<br />That will lead me to my destination<br />And unfold my dreams and ambition<br />To take me out of rejection<br />For in it I see a vision<br />Of happiness and future appreciation<br /><br />When I was young in twos<br />Life was sweet and in it's blues<br />Sitting on my feeders laps<br />And her,patting me in happiness<br />Without knowing what life had in store for me<br /><br />NOW i sit with a heart over weighed with heaviness<br />Surrounded with life that proves no happiness<br />And a future engulfed with a cloud of sadness <br />After the sole mother's life being unsuccess<br />For she died of the life full of restlessness<br />And left me in the world of confusion and hopelessness<br /><br />Today,I sit under this shade <br />With jiggers and mites being my friends<br />They are so noble and daily companions<br />With nothing to fill my stomach<br />Apart from my daily outcome of the dustbins<br />Nothing to lay my head on<br />Apart from the cupped hands that act as pillows and blankets<br /><br />On Christmas,i sit on the verandah gazing on the road<br />Watching other children happily holding onto their parents <br />With christmas gifts and goodies<br />And christmas blues filling the air<br />While wind of of solitude fill my stomach <br />Withno one to remind me of the celebration time<br />All days to me remind me of solitude and sorrow<br /><br />A good morning greetin to me is a wallop just because I spent the night on someone's veranda <br />I cry out of pain and suffering<br />Wishing for a new day to comer in my life<br />A day,the term 'father' will have a meaning to me<br />A day when our Kenyan streets won't have the deprived and miserable street children<br />A day when LOVE will be shower genuinely and shared equally through out the world<br /><br />YES, my question is WILL THIS DAY EVER COME? and WHEN?vitalis jameshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10680359667430270792noreply@blogger.com