The Trail Trails

-

What is your own pain?

Is it pain itself?

or its triggers?


My society is that of bountiful desires

and pinned expectations.

Pressure rests on the Young like a bomb,

veils their reasoning with societal blindness

captures hearts with fears

and breathes into existence with nothingness



"I will come back."

such blissful promise and hope

from the young lad.

Like a robust cloud,

we all waited and waited

but the august visitor cut him down

shattered hearts

and totality

on an innocent day.


Then the trail trails...



to

prick

another

young.


Comments

Amadi Kelly said…
Sometimes promise and hope is all we need to keep going.
January 20, 2022 at 4:58 PM
Olubunmi Fatoba said…
But then, such is time 'and environmental' - bound @Amadi
January 20, 2022 at 5:23 PM
Babatunde James said…
Great Piece Blossom and Thank you!!!
January 21, 2022 at 3:15 PM
Anonymous said…
"...and just when we were about making sense of it all, another young lad is seen calling with eagerness to be picked.

Stupidity?

Does he know something we all don't...?"


Good piece Ma 🤗
February 28, 2022 at 3:22 PM
Olubunmi Fatoba said…
This comment has been removed by the author.
February 28, 2022 at 10:15 PM
Olubunmi Fatoba said…
Hmmmm.... A point there.

Thank you.
February 28, 2022 at 10:16 PM
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

For Poetry

-
Image
 "The world is a garden of thorns - some of thorns, some of flowers." The world is a domain of choice.  For you to choose between thorns and flowers. The feeling of feel and life. The world is a heap of mixture. Of you and I. Of hates and loves. Of locks and embraces. Of illusion and reality. Of pierces and repairs. Of things common and uncommon. Of poetry and prose. Of silences in lullabies. and of living for this day and more.  Happy International Poetry Day.
Read more

How do we live here?

-
Image
                                                                        HU         MANI                                         TY                                                What is literature without a society filled with diverse characters? What is humanity without lensed levity. At times, we watch them tainting us with their cheats and shitty shits. They are humble in their callosity. In expressed generosity, they step on our already tattered life, leaving us to cuddle more slums.  What has become of my nation that was birthed from a fruitful juice, bathed in the foundation of our satisfied ancestors. Now, it is being washed with the infidel hands of the unfaithful son of fathers. What is life filled with the only glory of existing? For a while, the organism, like a blur to humanity, until beings became a subjected prey to their creations. We all wake up one day to hear a news, "quarantine, no more work, no movement", no vibes to live. A general decision fo
Read more