Ewe Lamb
The mother of our mothers and,
The father of our fathers;
Fed my lamds,
For i need seven men of reputation in this town.
Feed my sheep and free my mind,
Bring forth fruits worthy of repentance;
And to a place called Golgotha,
Because, i have left my cattle over there!
The governor's ear,
'Yli! Yli! Lamah Ozabatiny'! !
But, the dead know nothing.
This is like a spirit impersonationg Samuyl!
But give glory and praises to Yahweh;
Being very swift and just in your doings,
And like Naaman the Syrian.
The soft spot!
Seduced by a woman;
But the dead returns to the dust,
And like my little Ewe Lamb in the land of your muse.
Walls,
Towers,
Gates,
Bars;
With plenteous meat to satisfy my guest,
But, the eagle hastens to eat!
The people of Nkroful,
Nkrumah's hometown;
And of the fruit of their doings,
But, let there be an alliance between us.
Ethbaal, Bethel, Ethel;
With cakes of pressed figs to eat;
But, this beautiful appearance is like a woman! !
And like the poor man's Ewe Lamb in the land of your muse.
You did this in secret,
But i will do it in broad day light! !
And like a camel at Mount Carmel;
But, Yahweh does not get angry.
A mocking proverb,
A tauting parable,
A comstructive riddle;
Swimming things have no ruler!
But a glittering spear is in your hand,
And like the rich man's large flocks and herds.
This poem is like the feast of a king,
And like two skins of wine;
This poem is like the feast of a queen,
And like the atmosphere between the skies and the ground;
But naked and barefooted to touch your hearts with words of understanding,
Because, you have now got the meat of my only Ewe Lamb! !
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Anuma Fante
To reap the maximum benefits from your way of life and,
To learn how to do the right thing always;
With high professional reputation like 'Shaft In Africa'!
Anuma, anuma, anuma!
'Anuma eat', 'anuma drink', 'Anuma Fante! '
Like Mount Sinai engolfed with smoke;
And, where the glory of Yahweh rested to give us hope.
Do feed my lamb when you do have the means like,
Arms for alms in the land of the poor!
But the day comes when,
All things shall pass.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mary Had A Little Lamb
Mary had a little lamb
One holy morning
'Neath the star of Bethlehem
A brand new day was forming
Guided by the shining light
And the angel's voice
Wise men traveled through the night
To see the baby boy
'Cause Mary had a little lamb
King of kings and son of man
Mary had a little lamb of God
They gathered 'round to see the lamb
In the manger sleeping
Such a humble throne for Him
The promise God was keeping
There the shepards bowed their heads
Among the cattle lowing
The first ever Christmas gift
Was wrapped in swaddling clothes
Mary had a little lamb
King of kings and son of man
Mary had a little lamb of God
For the world a sacrifice
Mary did give birth
The way she held him in her arms
Is how He holds the earth
Mary had a little lamb
King of kings and son of man
Mary had a little lamb of God
Mary had a little lamb
King of kings and son of man
Mary had a little lamb of God
Oh, Mary had a little lamb
King of kings and son of man
Mary had a little lamb of God
song performed by by Garth Brooks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ketse
A sacrificial lamb,
But to open your golden eyes very wide! !
And like the land of attraction,
But, on top of this mountain is the muse of my love.
Be lovely and feed the birds around you,
For i am Ketse with the works of peace;
However, the sacrificial lamb is with you,
And like the fruits of the ground.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Acts And Arts
A message to the Adonetenhene,
A message to the Nkantahene,
A message to the Nkosohene,
A message to the Akoforehene,
A message to the Atimpimhene,
A message to the Akyempimhene,
To exercise decorum on your stools;
Because the tidal waves of the sea is like,
The messages from your stools!
A message to the Tepahene,
A message to the Omanhene,
Like a woman who is at the threshing floor;
So, try to redeeem the land and this woman too.
I know what i am writing and saying,
Because i am a woman too;
And o spread out your hands ín prayer is what i know,
Like the firstling of a donkey which shall bwe redeeemed with a lamb.
To you i do write oh Rulers of this land,
For Yahweh want it so and so shall it be;
But, there is no one like Yahweh!
Of the secret acts and arts in your traditional areas,
Of the power of your works that we do see as well;
But the first of the moon of the year is Abib,
And it is the moon of green Ears of Barley.
Do your best oh Rulers of this land and,
Let us enjoy the fruits of your Kingdoms;
And to exercise the decorum on your stools matters to me.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Anna Lu King 1910/2001
O’ beautiful black queen…
The center of my dreams…
Enjoy your sleep…
It made me weep…
Yet in my heart you I keep…
And there you will live on…
O’ great queen…
You still watch over me…
And give me God’s favor, faith…
You’ve showed me how and what…
Is love…
Understanding how I was bad and made me see…
My good…
O’ beautiful black queen…Mother…
Of my Mother…
Woman of my second home…
A whole woman…
A woman with an iron fist…
And a heart of gold…
A God fearing woman…
Sleep…you sweet thang…
In my heart you will always…
Ring…
Making the whole of me sing…
I love you for the words…
You never spoke…
You my mothers, mother…
Twins in my world…
Blessed by God…
Sleep, sleep, sleep…
In heavenly peace…
While I thank you…
Dear woman…
For your daughter…
Who loves you and me…
Thank you grand mother…
For loving me…rest…
I feel you…I feel you watching over…
My shoulder…
Bless are you my sweet black queen…
For in my heart is where you still live…
With all my love, your loving grandson
Kwane Kenya Lamb…rest my sweet…
poem by whisperkwane Lamb
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Head
Born in Jamaica but made in America,
Born in Germany but made in America,
Born in Senegal but made in America,
And like life in the land of snakes and lizards;
For there are rich churches all over the world!
But what are they preaching to their members?
The head of everyman is the Messiah!
And of the called out ones who are few in number;
But His voice will shake the earth an His words will touch many,
For the head of every woman is the man.
Born in Soweto but made in America,
For the woman is the expression of man's glory!
And the Head of the Messiah is father Yahweh,
But many will surely be taken from this muse.
A double-minded person is always unstable,
For his of her ways are always crooked!
But with all thses rich churches around us,
We still have many poor people around us who have not even eaten.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Banquet
A banquet for two,
A joyous occasion;
Of wine foe a lamb,
A momentous victory;
A little wine curbs gallstones.
I have my mind on you and,
You have your mind on me too;
So, we have to meet one day.
The juice of fruits,
Distilled from honey;
Like a drink for two at a banquet.
I have my mind on you,
Like the lamb which was sacrificed;
You have your mind on me too like,
The food which was eaten;
This is the mixture of the muse that bubbles.
A banquet for two,
The joy of a muse;
True love is all that takes us to this banquet.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Petrified lamb
The petrified lamb shivered
It wailed in vain
Searching for the herd
He was separated from
But no one was in sight
The poor animal cried all night
The biting cold was hurting him
Tied to a pole near a ramshackle
Meat shop he felt lonely
He was sold to a butcher
By the villager who always
Used to fondle him while grazing
How could he be so cruel
Thought the poor lamb
Even before the butcher came
Customers reached the shop
To buy fresh stock of meat
The poor animal felt
Someone would rescue him
From this precarious predicament
Not knowing the fate in store for him
The butcher came with his son in tow
Sharpened the knife
On a block of stone
Held the poor lamb to the ground
And slit its throat
Fountain of blood
Was on the floor
The lamb struggled
Before lying dead on the ground
Skinned, cleaned and hung
Upside down
Ready for buyers to select
The portions that they
Liked to buy
What a horrible scene
Repeated every day
On poor mute creatures
Who like us
Would like to live
poem by Vijay Menon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wooly Lamb, Wooly Lamb
Wooly Lamb, Wooly Lamb, frisking along;
Wooly Lamb, Wooly Lamb, bleating a song;
Wooly Lamb, Wooly Lamb, wearing fur-coat,
Wooly Lamb, Wooly Lamb, looking so bright!
Wooly Lamb, Wooly Lamb, eating green grass,
Wooly Lamb, Wooly Lamb, let me first pass,
Wooly Lamb, Wooly Lamb, grazing so nice,
Wooly Lamb, Wooly Lamb, what a surprise!
One of my first Children's Rhymes
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Yaya
Listen to their demands and appoint them a King!
For i am an impressive and a handsome man;
Listen to their demands and appoint them a Queen!
For i am an impressive and a beautiful woman;
And your muse is very delicious and beautiful as well.
The lion roared an i heard your voice,
So i do not have to ask of your name;
Because i am 'Yaya Busanga' from Nima!
There is what have been kept from you and,
Here is wht my lover brought to me;
But stay here awhile to read my muse,
For their demands are important too.
A flask of oil and,
Of the thigh and its upper part!
Your lost donkeys have now been found,
And i am 'Yaya Busanga' from Nima.
The ears will hear and will tingle,
And from Dan to Beersheba;
For the ark of Yahweh was once captured by the Philistines!
And like a piece of silver and a crust of bread,
I am 'Yaya Buanga' from Nima.
Yahweh was calling the boy but,
They have made up their mind for a new King;
Yahweh was calling the girl too but,
They have made up their mind for a new Queen;
So fasten up your sword over the tunic for,
The freed monkeys are now in the bush!
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pleasant One
Clan by clan,
Kin by kin,
One by one,
The store of Bohan!
And like the coastline of great love.
The scorpion passed by near the lion,
But his best-man took away his wife;
And, the story went out through the village.
Customary,
To entice her;
Of a feast,
To entice him;
But, her bride-mate took away his husband!
And, the story went out through the village.
Pleasant one,
To the land of my birth;
Of mercy and truth,
But this woman is from Bethlehem.
This man is your guest and,
This woman is my guest;
Yes, the one with her hands on the threshold!
But, take me to the land of peace.
A man of substance,
A woman of substance,
To the cave of Adullam;
And like your nakedness in the land of your muse,
But, the story went out through the village.
To the great well of Sechu!
Your mother's nakedness;
To the customary seat,
Your father's nakedness;
To shoot three arrows to this side,
Your brother's nakedness;
To sit by the stone of Ezel,
Your sister's nakedness;
And like the muse of the new moon! !
But, to lay naked all day and night,
For, i am old and grey-headed.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Sultana's Remonstrance
IT suits thee well to weep,
As thou lookest on the fair land,
Whose sceptre thou hast held
With less than woman's hand.
On yon bright city gaze,
With its white and marble halls,
The glory of its lofty towers,
The strength of its proud walls.
And look to yonder palace,
With its garden of the rose,
With its groves and silver fountains,
Fit for a king's repose.
There is weeping in that city,
And a cry of woe and shame,
There's a whisper of dishonour,
And that whisper is thy name.
And the stranger's feast is spread,
But it is no feast of thine;
In thine own halls accursed lips
Drain the forbidden wine.
And aged men are in the streets,
Who mourn their length of days,
And young knights stand with folded arms,
And eyes they dare not raise.
There is not one whose blood was not
As the waves of ocean free,--
Their fathers died for thy fathers,
They would have died for thee.
Weep not, 'tis mine to weep,
That ever thou wert born,
Alas, that all a mother's love
Is lost in a queen's scorn!
Yet weep, thou less than woman, weep,
Those tears become thine eye,--
It suits thee well to weep the land
For which thou daredst not die.*
poem by Letitia Elizabeth Landon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sorrow
Oh, how the mighty one has fallen!
In scarlet and in luxury but more than pains,
In the City called Adam with no glory,
To the fields of swords and to the fields of sorrow with words!
For, the mighty one fell with a clue,
And like the dead of many in the land of mines.
Tell me, how beautiful were your tents? ! !
Upon the throne of the kingdom and of words;
For, in the spring timew of the year came the war.
This blow is swifter than the claws of the eagles!
And, it is also stronger than the lonely lion in the thick forest of Africa;
But, like the poor man's little lamb in the land of trouble.
Oh, how the mighty one has fallen!
On the crags of the wild goats with honey and butter;
But, with one little ewe lamb to walk across.
My legs are like the legs of the deer in the forest of hope!
But, in the fields of sorrow are many dead bodies;
And, the City called Adam is now with no glory.
Oh, how the great one has fallen!
In the cave of jealousy with words of sorrow;
But, out of many waters without a view! !
And like the scarlet and the luxury to the sword.
Oh, that somebody would guide and give me a drink of water! !
From the wells of Bethlehem with the sign of hope;
For, there are many dead bodies already in the land of mines.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Today... 'The Firstborn Of The Dead
Hell could not hold onto its prey
He tore the bars of death away
and up from the grave He arose
triumphing o'er all His foes.
The First begotten of the dead
has now become our Living Head
the Ruler over all the kings
and of His praise all heaven sings.
'Worthy the lamb that died they cry'
'Worthy the lamb' is our reply
For He has washed us from our sin
opened heaven and let us in.
(see also the additional information in the Poet's notes box below)
Ewe
One little ewe lamb was walking along the street,
But two types people do live on this earth;
And i made up my mind to walk closer and look,
For the rich and the poor were there too.
Oh! I saw the little ewe lamb;
And like the poor man's sorrow and the rich man's laughter,
But let us lead this little ewe lamb to find its way home.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Knitted Well
The quality of this poem is knitted well!
Flow, low, below, blow, slow, cow, row;
Because,100 over 100 equals to 1.
The texture of this poem is knitted well!
Well, fell, bell, tell, hell, sell, cell, dell;
For we now see what is going on in Syria! !
War, tar, bar, star, car, gar, far, jar, mar, par;
With tangible images and tangible reasons,
And like a phenomenal man and a phenomenal woman!
But this war is killing many.
Clove, glove, prove, hove, strove, wove, stove;
And, what a nice poem that it is!
For, it is in it if,
It is with the muse of love!
And like the tender words of your muse,
But we now know what is going on in Syria.
100 over 100 is equal to 1!
But the poetry of life is always arouns us;
For the theme of this poem is fantastic! !
Bow, glow, how, vow, wow, grow, know;
And like the sweet muse of love.
Mow, now, sow, tow, throw, crow, show;
And like a nice image,
Shell, yell, jell, ell, quell, tell;
With its mystical muse like the melody of your music!
But the bombs are destroying everything.
Love, dove, drove, rove, shove, cove, grove;
With this superb peom to satisfy your muse,
But the poetry of life is always around us!
And we should find peace on earth always through this poetic life.
Sweet scent of freedom!
And like the modern songs in the land of your muse,
Because,100 over 100 equals to 1;
And this poem is knitted well,
But the poor moon weeps in the land of your muse because of this war!
When will these bombs stop falling on them? !
For the rich moon laughs in another land and,
The poor moon weeps in the land of Syria;
And the bombs are falling on them from every angle!
But, i do hope for peace in your land as well.
The philosopher,
Your choices,
The lessons,
Your actions,
And like my people being punished because of this war!
For, the mortal beings are now becoming immortal;
And, there are no graves to bury many of them.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Concentrate
My dear sisters…
Who are queens…
Never, never, stop your dreams…
Concentrate on you…
For there is a queen…
Within begging to be set free…
Have a mysterious kind of…
Obsession for yourself…
Let your self-esteem penetrate…
Your whole being…
For you may…
Just may…
Be out your league…
For most guys…
Who can't realize you are wise…
You need to know…
That a wild heart can…
Be broken…
So therefore become the…
Token…
Put aside the b.s. and joking…
Your future you cannot…
Be choking…
You are by far…
A better woman then you were…
Yesterday…
This new time is right…
There is a new president in town…
Just think…
The world is changing…
And you know you are a queen…
This is that moment…
Give your wings room…
To fly…
So what, he is cute…
And he winked at you…
Ask yourself this…
Is he really ready…
For a queen (woman) …
Who can fly…
poem by whisperkwane Lamb
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The cattle thief
They were coming across the prairie, they were
galloping hard and fast;
For the eyes of those desperate riders had sighted
their man at last--
Sighted him off to Eastward, where the Cree
encampment lay,
Where the cotton woods fringed the river, miles and
miles away.
Mistake him? Never! Mistake him? the famous
Eagle Chief!
That terror to all the settlers, that desperate Cattle
Thief--
That monstrous, fearless Indian, who lorded it over
the plain,
Who thieved and raided, and scouted, who rode like
a hurricane!
But they've tracked him across the prairie; they've
followed him hard and fast;
For those desperate English settlers have sighted
their man at last.
Up they wheeled to the tepees, all their British
blood aflame,
Bent on bullets and bloodshed, bent on bringing
down their game;
But they searched in vain for the Cattle Thief: that
lion had left his lair,
And they cursed like a troop of demons--for the
women alone were there.
"The sneaking Indian coward," they hissed; "he
hides while yet he can;
He'll come in the night for cattle, but he's scared
to face a man."
"Never!" and up from the cotton woods rang the
voice of Eagle Chief;
And right out into the open stepped, unarmed, the
Cattle Thief.
Was that the game they had coveted? Scarce fifty
years had rolled
Over that fleshless, hungry frame, starved to the
bone and old;
Over that wrinkled, tawny skin, unfed by the
warmth of blood.
Over those hungry, hollow eyes that glared for the
sight of food.
He turned, like a hunted lion: "I know not fear,"
said he;
And the words outleapt from his shrunken lips in
the language of the Cree.
"I'll fight you, white-skins, one by one, till I
kill you all," he said;
But the threat was scarcely uttered, ere a dozen
balls of lead
Whizzed through the air about him like a shower
of metal rain,
And the gaunt old Indian Cattle Thief dropped
dead on the open plain.
And that band of cursing settlers gave one
triumphant yell,
And rushed like a pack of demons on the body that
writhed and fell.
"Cut the fiend up into inches, throw his carcass
on the plain;
Let the wolves eat the cursed Indian, he'd have
treated us the same."
A dozen hands responded, a dozen knives gleamed
high,
But the first stroke was arrested by a woman's
strange, wild cry.
And out into the open, with a courage past
belief,
She dashed, and spread her blanket o'er the corpse
of the Cattle Thief;
And the words outleapt from her shrunken lips in
the language of the Cree,
"If you mean to touch that body, you must cut
your way through me."
And that band of cursing settlers dropped
backward one by one,
For they knew that an Indian woman roused, was
a woman to let alone.
And then she raved in a frenzy that they scarcely
understood,
Raved of the wrongs she had suffered since her
earliest babyhood:
"Stand back, stand back, you white-skins, touch
that dead man to your shame;
You have stolen my father's spirit, but his body I
only claim.
You have killed him, but you shall not dare to
touch him now he's dead.
You have cursed, and called him a Cattle Thief,
though you robbed him first of bread--
Robbed him and robbed my people--look there, at
that shrunken face,
Starved with a hollow hunger, we owe to you and
your race.
What have you left to us of land, what have you
left of game,
What have you brought but evil, and curses since
you came?
How have you paid us for our game? how paid us
for our land?
By a book, to save our souls from the sins you
brought in your other hand.
Go back with your new religion, we never have
understood
Your robbing an Indian's body, and mocking his
soul with food.
Go back with your new religion, and find--if find
you can--
The honest man you have ever made from out a
starving man.
You say your cattle are not ours, your meat is not
our meat;
When you pay for the land you live in, we'll pay
for the meat we eat.
Give back our land and our country, give back our
herds of game;
Give back the furs and the forests that were ours
before you came;
Give back the peace and the plenty. Then come
with your new belief,
And blame, if you dare, the hunger that drove him to
be a thief."
poem by Emily Pauline Johnson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Lamb and the Wolf (Ballad)
I saw a lamb to wolf turn prey!
I saw it kill’d in gruesome way;
The lamb was rather small, I say;
I saw it frolicking that day;
It bleated while busy at play;
That day, its life, it had to pay;
And soon, I heard a plaintive cry;
The grass was smeared by lamb’s blood dry!
My good shepherd, “Did you not know? ”
My God, “Did You all this allow? ”
The wolf was dressed in fine lamb-skin;
It killed by habit, kith and kin;
Like lamb, it spoke and went so near;
It acted friendly, allayed fear;
It took the lamb afar to play;
The lamb was foolish on that day;
It was so meek and frail, not bold;
It wished to see the far-off world.
My good shepherd, “Did you not know? ”
My God, “Did You all this allow? ”
The wolf then took the lamb away,
To steep a cliff with grass to play;
In moment’s time, it pushed it down;
The foul-play was almost half-done;
The lamb remained so very dazed;
That it was live, kept me amazed;
Before it could then recover,
The wolf made plans to devour.
My good shepherd, “Did you not know? ”
My God, “Did You all this allow? ”
The wolf noticed the lamb’s sad plight
And asked if it was quite alright;
It said, “I’ll take you to mother.”
The lamb believed the lie, brother!
It took it round and round and round;
There was no sign of flock on ground;
The lamb had gone really far;
Against the wolf, it could not war.
My good shepherd, “Did you not know? ”
My God, “Did You all this allow? ”
The lamb couldn’t walk any farther;
To pray to God, it didn’t bother;
It was so tired, hungry too;
It did not know what next to do;
The wolf then caught the lamb by throat;
The blood spilled down its white fur-coat;
The lamb was dead in moments split;
The wolf ate lamb and tried to sit;
My good shepherd, “Did you not know? ”
My God, “Did You all this allow? ”
The wolf had feasted like a drill;
It ate with joy and had its fill;
It worked its way with pretty skill;
It left no trace of lamb on hill;
It was the poor lamb’s folly still.
The lamb had vanished from the rill;
It was too weak to fight by will;
The lamb had died a death cruel.
My good shepherd, “Did you not know? ”
My God, “Did You all this allow? ”
O shepherd good and experienced
With staff so long and strong and hooked;
If you had been awake and heard
The poor lamb’s cry, you could it saved;
If you had spotted wolf disguised,
One blow by staff you could have killed;
If you had watched with care, brother,
It would have stayed near its mother;
My good shepherd, “Did you not know? ”
My God, “Did You all this allow? ”
Then good shepherd, “Why didn’t you come
To save lamb’s life from wolf’s welcome? ”
The little lamb didn’t know wolf’s scent;
It was too small and innocent;
Its legs were weak and could not run;
It thought that life was only fun;
If more alert had been shepherd,
The lamb needn’t go astray or erred.
My good shepherd, “Did you not know? ”
My God, “Did You all this allow? ”
Had shepherd failed to act aright?
Had wolf deceived the lamb’s eye-sight?
Did not God know the lamb’s poor plight?
How could a lamb give wolf a fight?
Was it an act of destiny?
Was lamb to blame for mutiny?
Perhaps, the lamb was bound to die,
Allured by wolf’s broad day-light lie!
My good shepherd, “Did you not know? ”
My God, “Did You all this allow? ”
Copyright by Dr John Celes 1-11-2007
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The State Of My Life
Check the last time you took wine,
Blackman watch yourself in the land of your muse!
To the graves of the earth,
Whiteman you will always rule because of a little reason;
But, what are these medicines for?
Remember! The Creator created us all;
But, the great night is broken today,
And, the trumpets have sounded! !
There i saw people carrying weapons of war all along,
But the African cats have no chains on their necks.
The state of my life,
I do thank Father Yahweh for everything;
For, the European cats do have chains on their necks.
Fore consumes what it touches,
But a will or a testament can only go into effect once a person dies;
And like the secret of the Seventh Seal! !
But the army of horsemen are now ready for war!
The truth is already known around you,
Because, action speaks louder than words! !
And, a picture is worth a thousand words,
But, receive the truth always from the right people.
Deceived churches and assembles,
And like a woman clothed with the sun;
For the law of thought is around you,
And like a great wonder in heaven! !
The law od peace,
The 'Ishtar Egg' has nothing to do with the Messiah!
And like 'Isi and Iswara';
But today, a donkey's head is now sold for eighty shekels.
Of virginity and motherhood,
But fornication is sin;
And from the beginning to the end,
But like the muse of 'Ahoofe' in 'Gonja land'.
He knew he had done wrong,
She knew she had done worng,
But i am from 'Krachi' in the Northern Volta;
And, i knew nothing by myself,
Except being guided by the muse of love.
I planted and you watered,
But check the last time that you took wine;
For eye has not seen nor ear heard of it!
But the first light of dawn brings hope,
And like the state of my life in the land of your muse.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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