Cecelia GrantPeters Poems

The Doctor checked my vitals and the Neurosurgeon too
The Nurses checked my blood pressure until my arm went blue
Then the Doctor told me something I had never heard before
She said; "Poet, you're suffering from Metaphor,
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Oh her shoes are shiny and her hair is long
And she sings the mighty Sarah's Song
Oh Sarah's Song is a song of rage
With themes she learnt from an early stage
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The homeless man under the bridge had eyes that bled
And woke each night from his humble bed
He had no poetry or rhyme,
No joy, no consequence or crime.
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From his driving seat of "Knowledge" he drives down to Leicester Square
Taking rides from all and sundry, all the world has been his fare.
When life's path was dark and dreary, when the nights were cold and drab
He imparted to the masses "Knowledge", from his Hackney Cab.
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Imams offer prayers to Allah
As Minarets chant high.
Rastafarians invoke Tafari
And chant down Babylon.
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Walk into the light Jonah
Walk into the light
Angel hands will lead you
When you walk into the light.
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Guns may crack, Bombs explode,
People fight on streets,
Back in "B" the Bourgeoisie
Are hiding in their sheets.
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There was a woman who lived inside her head
She spoke daily to the people
Who lived inside her head.
Outside her head.....the world continued
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The woman who cried.....
Read the newspaper
Did the Crossword
Changed the bed sheets
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For almost 30 years you were Public Prisoner Number One
Your new home...far from home.....was now Victor Verster.... Robben Island,
Far from the World, yet teasingly you were so near
Yet you remained Undone, Unafraid, Strong, Silent, Loud, Defiant
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