Rhythm and Rhyme Workshop


Workshop for poetry written in traditional forms.
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Leo Long South Africa (12/9/2013 6:40:00 AM)

Drowned in hate


I felt the stab of pain
From a brother in the hood
One seeking to rise to fame
I thought he understood.

I taste the bitter in what he said
As he spits the words out
“I wish you were dead”
He just verified my doubt.

I hear the cries for pity
In our own neighborhood,
Not across the state or in another city
I hear the cries that no one ever should.

I smell the stench of betrayal
Of the brother who killed his mate.
“And thus he came to the end of his trail”,
Said the pastor, as silent he lays in state.

I see the mother dab her eye
She’s crying for our state
It’s not just the other guy
It’s our nation drowned in hate!

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