Village boy Impressions

  The fierce sun is worn out Slouching towards his nest As a sapped child to bed The air is still, in contemplation A calm ambience spreads Over the naked fields and The animal kingdom Breathes a sigh of relief Yet treading sombrely As if afraid to disturb The sleepy giant.   The cows turn towards home Leisurely foraging the sparse Brown grass and shrubs Trodden by their own hoofs. The clear blue sky turns from Yellow to glowing orange As the quietening sun In the hue of a molten ball   Drops quickly into his shell, Burning but no longer scorchy.   Then Suddenly... Blasts of cool air sweeps Over the bare brown fields And the cattle egrets Take to the cooling sky Destined for the other side Where they pass the night On the ancient baobab United in prayer with all For the next drop of rain.   The children, in delight, wave Their hands in song at the sight: “Cattle egret, inscribe my hands for me, Do not let a scorpion sting me And let not the viper bite me Al...

Photo by  Kid Circus  on  Unsplash RESOLVED, I must up and act Rave against this inaction Why must I rust in waiting? An eternity of rest is coming. How can I be idle?   Strive for what is mine I must For none shall render it to me But I with my calloused hands Grab it in my stride to keep Ever the rapid hours go by Without a pause And with them I must grind Till I’m spent and ragged I cannot quite down, but Like the wind and the tide I too must roar and pound   Asleep, awake, by day or  night   Time speeds by on light wing The tide of destiny swings as ever And around the idle it bends  For with hands is it ever carved How then can I be idle?   It matters not that I fail at it I am but spent upon a worthy cause Not rusted with a vile repose Waiting for naught but the grave Where worms shall feast upon  Flesh and bone long preserved And all chance for action is beyond Recall...

First came the strangers, with maps and flags Invasive, like ants to a feast In wonder, they gazed upon our land– Wide, wild, untouched by fence or boundary Where man, bird and beast roamed free Each belonging to no one but themselves So they called us headless.  We, whose spirits birthed kingdoms? Preposterous! And with swift strokes of the mighty pen, Lines were drawn across our lives and hearts.  As bloodless as it was brutal, it reads: "We hereby claim this land for Her Majesty the Queen!"   But our fathers arose, And fought and bled and won it back But when the invading flags were lowered, New masters emerged from among us: Big men, genteel ladies, pot-bellied tycoons,  Chiefs, or is it 'thiefs'? We know not, Multinational looters and robbers in suits, and the political crooks behind them. "The land does not belong to us; we belong to it, It cannot be sold"! Our fathers said, Now they grieve in their g...