Men,
Going places,
From places,
I too go,
And come,
As the tide of this quaint little island rock,
Too far out,
And then a little closer than wished.
Men,
Going places,
From places,
I too go,
And come,
From seeing my little daughter,
From seeing my little known,
Into the abyss of the unknown,
A few hours too few,
Kisses too few, too far in between.
Babybliss now waiting for daddy,
Watching them pass by;
Old man, blind man, black man, bad man,
Old man, yellow man, laughing man but no daddy man.
Babybliss now waiting for daddy man,
As forlorn lover at harbour
Awaiting a longed for ship to dock
Day in day out,
Year in year out,
Without end?
And I old man of the sea
Going places
Some places,
Many places.
I will be home again,
Some day,
Perhaps a good summer day
To babybliss,
And her rug doll,
I got that from timbuktu,
From an old man by the sea,
Going places,
Many places.
D wasake
27th august 2009
Saturday, 29 August 2009
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2 comments:
I couldn’t have said it better myself. You and your brothers are going places. I’m happy for you. Your parents must be proud of you.
Dickson,
Am impressed,amidst this chaotic nonsense ongoing in the city of God,your poems make me want to dream, dream faraway.
Bravo.
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