Home
Poem

The Oven

0 min read

By Rabson Kashamba

A photo of a little boy stranded in the streets
Photo via Pixabay

Not many rains from his first breath.
Now alone, lured into the streets
The hell that he calls home.

Begging and scavenging for daily food,
Already, has taken the blow of life.
Crime scenes are his playing grounds.

Only if they indeed had a thought,
Only if they had cared.
He could call them his sole pillars.

What wrong did I do to them?
If they really wanted me,
They couldn't put me in this oven alive.



Poetry, Poem, Malawian Poem, Malawian Poetry, Malawian Poems, Poems

You may like these posts

  • Anew
    By Rabson KashambaPhoto by Rodnae Productions on PexelsStartled by your glimpse, I gasped. Out of the blue, you paid me a visit,Your face still young and immaculate.You held no gru…
  • Shut Door
    By Rabson KashambaPhoto by Mantas Hesthaven on UnsplashThe journey I even doubt it myself,Having stayed here for a while.Like of other beautiful places,I've never heard waiting ahe…
  • Whispers
    By Rabson KashambaPhoto via PixabayI hear their whispers and laughter;They've given me different names.My privacy, is now their talk topic,They murmur behind my back.Their faces we…
  • The Oven
    By Rabson KashambaPhoto via PixabayNot many rains from his first breath.Now alone, lured into the streets The hell that he calls home.Begging and scavenging for daily food,Already,…
  • About Home
    By Rabson KashambaOriginal image via PixabayThey've talked about its lovely sunsets,Its splendour they've admired. They've loved and praised smiling faces,A lot they've said for ou…
  • Behind It
    By Rabson KashambaPhoto Keira Burton on Pexels  Worry and shame could all be gone.I could be confident enough;Tasting the true flavour of life again.Confidently along the corr…

Post a Comment