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on March 19, 2024

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"The Journey of the Magi" by T.S. Eliot "A cold coming we had of it, Just the worst time of the year For a journey, and such a long journey: The ways deep and the weather sharp, The very dead of winter." And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory, Lying down in the melting snow. There were times we regretted The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces, And the silken girls bringing sherbet. Then the camel men cursing and grumbling And running away, and wanting their liquor and women, And the night-fires going out, and the lack of shelters, And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly And the villages dirty and charging high prices: A hard time we had of it. At the end we preferred to travel all night, Sleeping in snatches, With the voices singing in our ears, saying That this was all folly. Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley, Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation; With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness, And three t...

The Song of the women of my land

"THE SONG OF THE WOMEN OF MY LAND" By Oumar Farouk Sesay Like a sculptor chipping away at bits of wood, Time chisels away bits of their memory It strips away lyrics of the song of the women of my land Leaving only a fading tune echoing the song, they sang in the forlorn fields about their lives; songs of how they ploughed the terrain of their landscape for memories of lyrics lost in the vast void of time, in those days when a song beheld their lives; when servitude cuffed the ankles of their soul, and dereliction decapitated the epic of their lives. With a song, they sponged off their anguish, to behold their collective pain, to celebrate their gains give lyrics to the tune of their lives, cheat the tyranny of time and commune with the yet unborn to give meaning to an epoch lost in antiquity, Yet time strips the lyrics and scars the tune leaving a dying song. Dea...

Caged bird

"Caged Bird" by Maya Angelou A free bird leaps on the back of the wind and floats downstream till the current ends and dips his wing in the orange sun rays and dares to claim the sky. But a bird that stalks down his narrow cage can seldom see through his bars of rage his wings are clipped and his feet are tied so he opens his throat to sing. The caged bird sings with a fearful trill of things unknown but longed for still and his tune is heard on the distant hill for the caged bird sings of freedom. The free bird thinks of another breeze and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees and the fat worms waiting on a dawn bright lawn and he names the sky his own. But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream his wings are clipped and his feet are tied so he opens his throat to sin...

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