Treasure Island

Babatunde Aremu


Season Of Letters


I never knew that elders are good letter writters
Until the tabloids are awashed with their missives
I never knew that those in authority writes long sentences
Until some pages were exposed to the citizens
I never knew that our leaders are petty
Until their inks started flowing like River Niger
I never knew that elders are good at accusations and counter accusations
Until their letters formed a confluence
Like Rivers Benue and Niger in Lokoja
I never knew that respected statemen vituperates
They are busy writing verses(angelic and satanic?)
Yet none of their lines provides solution
They are all busy healing pimples
When the whole body is leprotic
Of what use is their letters?

Submitted: Friday, January 10, 2014
Edited: Saturday, January 11, 2014

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (Season Of Letters by Babatunde Aremu )

Enter the verification code :

Read all 2 comments »

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  9. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  10. Invictus
    William Ernest Henley

New Poems

  1. The Storyteller, David Lewis Paget
  2. Read yourself, Eleonora Bistrianu
  3. State dictates people to be violent, Pranab K. Chakraborty
  4. Just After Dawn, David Harris
  5. Graveyard, Eleonora Bistrianu
  6. Moments, Eleonora Bistrianu
  7. Stasying the Course, John F. McCullagh
  8. Preposterous, Alem Hailu Gabre Kristos
  9. The Little Wood, Ruth Manning-Sanders
  10. The Moral Roundabout, Ruth Manning-Sanders

Poem of the Day

poet William Wordsworth

I

I AM not One who much or oft delight
To season my fireside with personal talk.--
Of friends, who live within an easy walk,
Or neighbours, daily, weekly, in my sight:
...... Read complete »

   
[Hata Bildir]