Poem By David Ayo Olowoeyo

When shall the day,
Come to true and stay,
Of brighter sun so gay?

When shall the land,
Be cur'd from blo'dy hand,
And in peace with-stand

When shall the maidens,
Shout in 'blissful delights'
And sing of love and lights?

When shall the poor,
Rise up from the floor,
To experience nextdoor?

When shall the youth grow,
To be a leader of tomorow,
Who gaze upon his brow?

When shall the old,
Learn to act as called,
And tell the words untold?

When shall our night,
Be bright just as white,
With arms cool and tight?

Oh mother land, 'crying'
Many thousands 'asking'
A quesion 'complicating'

Would he look upon us,
God, in mercy and vengance,
And locate our quesions?

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