|
|
I stretched my hands to you
My hearts with you too
In self-less service and sacrifice
I can do all that is wise
My energy goes to those afflicted with lethargy
In mind, body and soul.
For those who treat others with allergy
When entrusted with tasks, they will AWOL,
But will need to be told
That volunteering is an act of gold.
When there is no money or dividend
Few or no hands will attend
To the sick, the poor, the homeless
My hands will attend.
|
1
Tags
You must be logged in to add tags.
|
Writer Profile
Andy
Andrew began his writing at an early age, and grew up during the war years to use his gift of writing as an advocacy tool against violence. His passion for poetry, short stories and the arts helped him to spot-light the dismal years of the war years through the BBC, so that it can be shared with the rest of the world. As a student of Fourah Bay College, his writings appeared frequently on the Buffalo Press Box, and created a lot of insight into the daily predicaments that students endured during the war years. After his graduation, he turned to the internet as a way to reach a wider audience who were unaware of his country's scourges of war. He now has over 45 poems that span a decade, that talks of war and peace. He intends to publish this soon.
|
Comments
coool Raihan Khondker | Jun 12th, 2002
I really liked this poem.NIce poem dude
:* GENDARME DAMNES ME.* Andrew Benson Greene Jr | Jan 12th, 2004
This poem was written by me in 1997 when I was a refugee in neighbouring Guinea, Conakry.
Title:* GENDARME DAMNES ME.*
My movement
Will be marred at 'Madina',
Barred at 'Bambayto'
And tghe gendarme damnes me
As a refugee.
Off to 'Belview,
I will go
At a transplanted 'Heart Of Gold',
Chatter and air my views
Or glued to my radio,
Listening to news
Bruited by the BBC.
In the heat the of fire of guns,
I wish my folks trapped back home begone.
A sickly bravo
For their making bold
At the twinning rebel-junta's toll.
A good news
Not our personal views,
Drenches our lips
With gulps of beer.
Is the special way to say one cares?
And I saw my movement,
Marred at 'Madina,
Barred at 'Bambayto'
And the Gendarme damns me
As a refugee.
Or My passport
Will be harmed,
Outside the airport,
Confisticated for 'deux mille francs'
To fill the Grendarmes gut
With Bacon and ham
Or else I rut
Behind a prison's bar.
You must be a TakingITGlobal member to post a comment. Sign up for free or login.
|
|
