Hope On Exile Poem by Ifeoluwa Philips

There is a strumming of strings
Across the liberty road
There standing a blind bairn who sings
All men watching with a loose lips on the road
Mother took and retie her wrapper
Father loses his loin to a beggar
Running boots hitting hard the ground
Sounding like a matching armies to a battle ground
The home has been left for the strumming strings

Whose hands strum hard to life a nefarious spring
Alas! Men watching on the road
Fallen statue of a grey hair in hold
Chartered of mouth in barbaric tone
So lousy the strings left in tone
Liberty road is destroyed
And its bridge totally destroyed
But men were carried away with a dis-tune sound
Telegraphing the atmosphere with aching sound
And hope traveled on exile