It is seven years of drought,

The land is barren,

The sun is a fierce task master,

Lashing out without mercy;

The air is bone dry,

There is not a drop of water for

Parched throats;

The grasses are withered

And the flowers are dead,

Wasteland stretches for miles on end

The harvest is swallowed in nothingness;

The skies are bleached, they are not spared

And they look down solemnly,

Mourning with the rest of the oppressed;

Hearts faint,

Weariness invades bodies;

Hope flees, leaving people

On their knees,

One step from despair.



10 thoughts on “Drought

  1. Drought so well defined its almost like putting a lipstick on a pig cause this actalually does make for a good piece of poetry inspite of its nascent ugliness and better still ticks all of the right boxes in ma book…..top notch! 👌😂

    Double thumbs up Doc, you’re more than worth your weight in gold and diamonds I must say; as far as poetry compositions and writing generally goes! Way to go! 👏😉👍


  2. Top notch. When I saw the first 2 lines, I thought you were going to retell the story of zaphnathpaaaneah☺then I remember that even that story can be applied to several other situations wherein there’s a dearth of hope.


  3. when I get on your blog, I’m inspired to go pick my journal and finish the book I’ve been running from… but this is the hope I have, if I don’t get to finish it, my child will *Lol*

    You inspire me, more than thy knoweth


    1. Hehehe, Inkheart dear, your child will chart his/her own path and write his/her own story. That story you are running away from is yours to write. Shake off the fear and face it headlong ..the world awaits you!


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