Rough Rhymes

Sunday, November 26, 2006

Today I received an email which went like this:

"Hey I just blogged. A poem from some email. Do read it. You will like it."

When I see emails like this, I usually head over to the blog to take a look at it. I didn't just like the poem. I loved it. And the poem, written by an African kid, goes like this:

When I born, I Black.
When I grow up, I Black.
When I go in Sun, I Black.
When I scared, I Black.
When I sick, I Black.
And when I die, I still black.

And you White fella,
When you born, you Pink.
When you grow up, you White.
When you go in Sun, you Red.
When you cold, you Blue.
When you scared, you Yellow.
When you sick, you Green.
And when you die, you Gray.
And you call me coloured.

It's not everyday that I see a post that makes me say "Ponna jack la mike". But this one really deserves the nod of approval.

Labels: Poem

Praba - 2:40 AM 0 comment(s)

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Name - Praba
Age - 22
Birthday - 19 May
Horoscope - Taurus
E-Mail - narakabarp@gmail.com

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Property Of Rough Rhymes

Praba.
20 This Year.
Cursed to be here.
First to be clear.

You won't understand till we trade places.
I need my own breathing spaces.

See, my life ain't promised.
But it'll sure get better.
Hope you undastan my love letter.

I dropped 5 times but I'm still breathin'.
Livin' proof there's a god if you need a reason.

I think about it everyday.
I haf so much to say.
My main thing was to be major paid.
This game's sharper than a muthafuckin' razor blade.

I wanna be meaningful.
Not winnin' fools.
I followed fools.
Swallowed rules.
Now I'm starting to trip.
I'm losing my grip.

Many were impressed when they saw praba writin'.
Now wait for him to start fightin'