There is a morning
There is a day
There is a time
I sit on the chair
I think about life
The excitement of what I desire,
The melancholy of the thing that vanish
No hope of better morrow
The vision of greater future is unclear
But prophesy to be a greater one persist
My heart wanders uncertainly like a desert soldier
Yet on the seat I am
I bend my head against my laps
To disconnect my think from old thought
I hug my knees against my lower jaw
But think carry me to the river side to think
Oh! What a pity, I gropingly rub my hair
To arouse my sense of humour
But the sense of cry I open
Repeatedly I ask myself; who am I?
Old or new Jabez?
Nobody cares to spy on me
Neither a whisper of love to my soul
Maybe I should hang me one day
To end the sorrow epistle I have started
But I am not capable of doing that
Because I love myself
I shall keep pushing
Maybe the vision will be clear
One day I never know
Puddles Of Thought
Gabriel Oluwalana
(C) All Rights Reserved. Poem Submitted on 08/29/2020
Poet's note: Written on 29th August 2020.
Depression and hope.
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Poem topics: future, hair, heart, hope, life, never, river, soldier, sorrow, time, desire, head, soul, clear, morning, whisper, hug, open, chair, capable, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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