Literary WorldProse


Where is the oomph put in the campaigns?
Where are the pledges in our china plates?
Where is the link between us and them?
Where is the meat we ought to have now?
When will the message of hope yield fruits?
And the peace we lost be restored?
They say it is easy to get to the bowel of the sea
For there are no technocrats.
Easier to count its sand
They will not complain of lies.

But the fair-haired path to a politic heart
Who wins the contest, Iron?
Mesh of campaigns
Who sells lies to the masses?
Pumpkin leaves add no salt to a soup
In that patch, politic wigs grows
You never know impoverishment
Until a spirit of lies gives you food
More garden of sorrows
And evil rests its head!

No love dies
Unless it’s not equally mixed
Real smiles don’t fetch pains
Unless it did not come from a pure heart
For love resides in heart of men not on logs of wood
Or at the village square
Not even at a party rally
But it glees daily in the heart of men;
When will love be the soul of the throne?

About author
Umar Osabo teaches English as Second Language (ESL) and English as Foreign Language (EFL) courses at the University of Hargeisa, Somaliland, East Africa
Related posts

Oh precious and distant land!

Have you set your eyes on the spirit of the days between?Or the seasonings of the season? Yesterday, tenderers of the fields… Share this:

Hues of Ms Obianuju

Bag of bonesAnemic rope of flesh boundJaded eyesIn a mud of drug residuesWares of speculationThe later, not the former*Tongue of eloquenceGrim reminderOf… Share this:

The frocked men are back

At the last SabbathFrocked menConverged at the walls of Mount Carmel.After a long hiatus.On one sideMinions under bottle gourd plantsWith a sprinkle… Share this:
Power your team with InHype
[mc4wp_form id="17"]

Add some text to explain benefits of subscripton on your services.

Leave a Comment