Little black boy
My mother bore me in the western wild,
And i am black, but my soul is white
White as snow is the English child
but i am black as if deprived of light
My mother taught me under a tree
And sitting before the heat of the day
She took me with in arms and kissed me
And pointing to the east began to say
Look at the rising sun; there God lives
And gives his light and his heat away
And flowers and plant and animals and men
Receive comfort in the morning and joy at noon
And we are put on earth
That we may learn to bear the beams of love,
And this black bodies and this sun-burnt face
Is but a cloud, and like a shady grove
For when our souls have learnt to bear the heat
The clouds will vanish and we shall hear his voice
Saying come out from the grove my love,
And rejoice around my golden tent like lambs
This my mother said to me and kissed me
And this i say to the little English boy
when i he formed black and the clouds he formed white
And around the tent of God we shall rejoice like lambs
I'll shade him from the heat until he can bear it
To lean in joy upon our fathers knee.
And this i'll stand and stroke his black hair
And be like him and he will love me

I should be that last to say this but this starts amazingly but the tends to underwhelm as you try to make the dreamy sectioning between this and that, like a vivid vision to a hazy dream.
Thanks
It’s has been noted
I feel the same way. At the same time, it's a beautiful piece. Nice one @victoryudofia
@victoryudofia what a nice post👍🏼
Really i enjoyed reading it keep it up
Nice write up, you show really great potential as a poet, I believe you can become better.
Thanks so much
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