THE POET: Struggles of life



Poet struggles of life imageStruggles are part and parcel of the lives of all races, creeds, peoples and individuals . It comes in the form of challenges, trials, tribulations, hardships, oppression, victimization, prejudice and I am sure you could put in additional forms of struggles both personal and general.

The overcoming of struggles can be bitter sweet and as the popular folk song goes ” the hotter the battle the sweeter the victory.”

Again, I have put together a bunch of poems from my 1983, collection of poems, titled, VIEW, that reflects the notion of struggles in different forms.


Green, dark green is the colour of the grass

Fresh, in the early hours of dawn.

The blades are strong, the plant is well

Nothing like it, a beautiful sight to behold.


Pale green is the colour of the grass.

Battered, in the midday sun.

It has been trampled on by men;

What a pity, there was nothing like it.


Brown is the colour of the grass.

A mess, in the cool of the evening.

It has undergone another day of suffering;

Try as it might, there was nothing like it.


Black is the colour of the man.

An unfortunate creature of the world.

His arms are strong, the man is well,

Nothing like him, a creature being enslaved.



It is your decision

Not my decision.

I have made one

Like any other man.


Don’t be confused

Because of what other people do.

Remember, this man and that man

Is just like you.


Their dwelling places

may be high or low,

They are still sharing

This life you know.


The way is straight

So cut out the corners.

A simple life

Goes much further.


It is your choice

So you must choose well;

Righteousness for ever

As time must tell.


It is your decision

Not my decision.

I have made one

Like any other man.



Morning, noon and night

Seeking to get my rights.

Yesterday, today and tomorrow

I may still be living in sorrow.

Through trials, crosses and tribulations

I have to keep fighting on.

With none to give a helping hand

That is a sad state for any man.


Struggling just to stay alive

With little chances to survive.

Comfort I have never seen,

My life is one of struggling.



Wailing, wailing, wailing

The people are tired of crying.

Laughers, laughing all the time.

Criers, crying all the time.

Wailings and gnashing of teeth,

Their lives aren’t sweet;

One of pain, one of sorrow,

They can feel it in their marrow.


So, no time to rest my brothers;

Let us work this out together.

“Better must come one day”,

That is what, prophets of old say.

People are you ready?

People are you ready?



We should all be our brothers’ keepers.

This would make life much easier;

With me looking out for you

And you looking out for me too.


Are you being your brother’s keeper?

If not so, what are you waiting for?

Do you realize you are the one

Who is putting the pressure on?


Be your brother’s keeper.

Help him to overcome.

If you are his keeper

His things are your and yours his.



Cloudy sky and rain,

Let my sun shine a bit.

Break the chain

Take it off my feet.


What is happiness like?

What is really joy?

My only friend is night,

I tried to laugh but no joy.


I can walk about

But I am a slave again.

Sleeping lion, get up,

Come break my chain.


Lion, kill all pains.

Lion, kill all sorrows.

Break all chains

To live a life not borrowed.



Sitting each day

They say I am lazy.

Ask for help

They think I am crazy.


For years I have tried

And many tears I have cried

My failures fill both hands

And this goes on and on.


They could have helped

But they wanted the pressure felt.

Wanted me to try my best

When I am at my fullest.


No doors open though I knocked,

I seek and have found not

And now I am on the track

They’re saying this and that.



This morning, aunt broke her leg

The rent was long overdue,

The powerman took their light

And the watermen took their water too.

She was flat broke in every way.


Mom cried, Miss Ruby cried, Gran cried,

“O help us God”, they all cried.


The last ounce of cornmeal gone

The house leaks even when the rain drizzles.

What is happening now

Happens throughout the four seasons.

Some people can take it, some can’t.


Mom cried, Miss Ruby cried, Gran cried,

“O help us God”, they all cried.




On the move

We are mobilized.

Cut out the playing,

Time  we get wise.


You farmer,

You better produce.

You pretty, pretty girl

Put your hands to use.


If you sit down

And gather up rust

You are going to lose

the man’s trust.


Look at the warriors

With their big bomb,

Tell them to put

Down arms and come.



Stop your crying;

Come give a

Helping hand this time.


Listen man,

We are mobilized;

That you must realize.



When sitting, facing the blue sky

That seems to meet the sea

And sea stretching to meet land,

All that is in your mind is blues.


Wide open, blue jotted sky,

Dotted by small grey cloud bands

Which dapple a shaded blue sea

That is dotted, but mostly blue.


When sitting, facing the blue sky

That meets sea at the horizon

Which meets land, you think in blues.

Blue, blues, dark green, blue.



The poetSTRUGGLES OF LIFE. Poems from Clifton Neil’s 1983 collection of poems called VIEW. Get your free copy by joining our mail list at WORDFOODMUSIC.COM.

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