Struggled hard to figure life out on his own
Mastered the only art he has ever known
No matter the blows that life had thrown
In dire circumstances, his passion grown
Though the world had repeatedly shown
How quickly it could forsake and disown
Artists whose dreams have never flown
Even if in the end he would die unknown

His mind churned with wisdom to spawn
Thoughts that demand or at times fawn
Sprouting like grass on a well kept lawn
Writing to make them see a new dawn
His endeavors made him act withdrawn
True to one conclusion he had drawn
Life is a chess game of wits not brawn
Where a queen can rise from a pawn

So created his own path and walked alone
From rhythmic verses and a rhyming tone
Using poetry and words he built a throne
To move the masses with a poetic cyclone
An Eden, an oasis a sanctuary, a safe zone
A great poetic kingdom not made of stone
Thou just a mere mortal of flesh and bone
His legacy would still live on when he is gone

In him a philosophical poetic star was born
Armed with a great mind that was stubborn
His spiritual philosophies an intellectual thorn
Sounding alarm to philosophers like a battle horn
Staying true to the life’s purpose he had sworn
Bringing love to the hearts marred with scorn
Bringing strength and inspiration to the torn
Bringing hope and encouragement to the worn

And I can go on and on and on and on…………

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Copyright © Bernard Owor

Bernard Owor is on facebook at:

Also at: Benrard Owor’s post on his blog

Disclaimer: The image used herein is taken from the Internet. Due appreciation and credit is acknowledged for the same.

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