Poems ✍️
  05.11.2025
  8

Author: Sayeed Abubakar

O Soil

Soil,
Don't be fertile more,
Don't be a mother;
Child-traffickers, like mad dogs,
Are moving everywhere.

Don't conceive any green more,
Don't conceive any forest;
The blue-eyed woodcutters, like butchers,
Are sharpening their axes.

O Soil,
Rather become a desolate graveyard,
Rather become a melancholic desert.


  destruction loss exploitation despair

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Take a look 👇

  My Mother ᐈ
  Mind Has Gone Insane ᐈ
  The Song Of The Endangered Trees ᐈ
  The Earth ᐈ
  The Heartless ᐈ

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