Posted in Prose, Stories

The Prof

He woke up at the earliest of dawn
from a sleep he hardly had
For his mind had been full all night
Of what fate has in store for him
For the previous day had been bad
It had rained all day
The roads were murky
His favorite spots were messy
The busy streets deserted
for people kept indoors all day

He slept in hunger
terrible dreams turning into nightmares
Kept him away awake all night
His stomach, rumbling and aching
like enzymes feasting on intestines
He had wished for death
For only that would give him rest
He lives in perpetual fear
of seeing the break of another dawn
For how could a man be so poor?
In the midst of so much

The flyovers of Rumuola
Eliozu, mile 1 and Eleme
Offer him shelter every night
He is known by everybody
Yet he knows none of them
Prof! Prof! we all call him
for he was once a school teacher

Nature has turned him a wanderer
he owns nothing, save for the Rags he wears
and the Plastic bowl he carries about
his bowl of course is for multipurpose
He is totally un kept and haggard
he smells about like a he-Goat
With eyes red and angry
for he is always hungry
seeking for busy Streets
as long as there is high footfall
He pitches his tenth therein

With his Bowl in front of him
he calls out to all that passes by
Please help me for I am hungry!!
That is his Song all day
he lives at the mercy of others

He does not have plans for tomorrow
for all his care in this life
is to eat, sleep and eat again
On days that he gets no food
He seeks for food in refuse dumps

He is not insane, no! Not Mad!
But poverty they say is a disease
that would bring a man so low
to the lowest of all esteem
what pride does a beggar have
for really he has no choice!


A lover of Literature. Author,Poet and Play wright. My ideas and stories are a product of my up bringing and social environment.

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