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Divining my self, I wrote this poem when i was six (6) years old although it was my first poem, I know its good because my class teacher rated it.... View table of contents...
Submitted: May 27, 2008 Reads: 14 Comments: 0 Likes: 1
African Diaspora
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In the diaspora he sat down;
And there he wept;
Remembering Africa;
Mouth open, unable to a song.Eyes full of the ocean;
Mouth imploded with praises;
Thought stacked full of memories,
Memories of Motherland Africa.In bits he uttered;
Africa, my cherised home;
In the diaspora unable to a song;
I want to come to thee.
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