THE WRITER

THE WRITER
(In me)
As I make them hear my voice,
I am bound to make a choice,
Brand it a fashion
For my bastion.
I had always sought the truth,
From my youth,
Rooted in me was the writer,
Not just a prize fighter.
As I look around us
And realise that they don’t care about us,
Our dreams and thoughts
Having been sold and bought:
We despair
And the writer repairs,
Making our spirits retain the light
That will illuminate our plight.
From the whispers in my heart,
Through the yearnings in my mind,
All the cravings of my kind,
Had prepared me from the start.
They have foisted an end-time
In our lifetime,
And we seek to make a contribution,
To parry this retribution.
My muse taught me to write down
Those feelings that come to my mind,
That poetry has to be inspired,
Same with other writings that I have discovered.
This collection of feelings that I record,
Will show you the sad,
With my frown
And mirth,
Branded by my smile:
This is my chosen way, for my people’s accord.
A thousand and one feelings campaign
For my ink and pages,
In this manner, I will become a sage
As my writings mature with age.
As I make them hear my voice,
I am bound to make a choice,
Brand it a fashion
For my bastion.
Collins.A . oisaremen