Black & Proud... Poetry
Chewing at his stick, his head held straight..
He was sat on a stool, right in front of his land,
Typical, of a pure bred African man...
Answering greetings, without turning his head..
And while above, the clouds gathered in earnest,
I watched him chew, with unbothered patience...
His features had the clear effects of time..
His face, a picture of contorted rage,
Doubtlessly caused, by the facets of old age...
For he was black, and I knew he was proud...
#IfWordsWereNudes
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Cheers!
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What does it mean? Are africans not afraid of rain?
Hi dear,
It is not to be taken literally... It is sort of a metaphorical line... Like he was not really bothered by whatever dark clouds which were gathering in his life at that point...
Though, I doubt anyone is really afraid of rain though... Lol, we just sometimes don't want to get wet.
Thanks for stopping by.
Ahaaan! I understood now. Lol. Because English isn't my first language, I sometimes come accross with such difficulties in understanding. Thanks for the elboration
Hi dear,
It is not to be taken literally... It is sort of a metaphorical line... Like he was not really bothered by whatever dark clouds which were gathering in his life at that point...
Though, I doubt anyone is really afraid of rain though... Lol, we just sometimes don't want to get wet.
Thanks for stopping by.
A beautiful poem, short but full of pride.
Thanks friend. I appreciate the kind words.
RIGHT ON!
I felt that!❣️