Samuel Oladimeji Kuye (Eric WordSmith). Theme images by kelvinjay. Powered by Blogger.










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THE FERTILE DESERT It’s a rich land Where different species of seeds are like sand. Nature beautifies the land enough that Lucrative palm trees flourish well On ground and under the ground, Timbers everywhere, all we can never sell. The sun is not known just in theory Nor the moon and cold in abstract; Rocks and rivers, valleys and mountains, Forest and creatures, resources and humans Are uncommonly enough to prove the fertility Beauty and blessedness of the land But it’s a loamy soil on which the celebrated Pests readily consume what should grow. Now, nothingness like wickedness Is known in the land; Growth is encumbered, though Equivocal is the deceptive assessment Rating the desert as developing Instead of diminishing. Agents of doom and angels of destruction Initiate the solution to congestion So that the population decrease And the unvictimised lions watch others die, and impenitently Fraternize with the devils. Everything is something for nothing; Resources are enough but we lack. The perfect lasting utilities are real only In the utopia of escapism. Lives are frustrated and poverty is Enthroned to cause fatalism, Desperation, crime and corruption. Everything is something but for nothing So saviours stop coming in yet many are rushing out. Envisage the real land and cry for the wastage; Reason on how the lions’ trench drains the water That is supposed to fill and water the whole land. Years are gone, years after years are going; Expectations and excuses are mutually unending; Scream, scuffle and scruple to grow are rampant as Anxiety breeds antipathy for the unappealing acts. National anthem, like our ancestors, we vocalize, so Dignity drowns, but if we can act to actualise that National anthem and the pledge with sincerity Only then shall the giant be tall and dignified.

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