Back then,
There used to be some
That will work under the sun
Digging all their hands in the mud
That will work under the sun
Digging all their hands in the mud
Sweating, building and rising
Building for me and my generation
Faces were curious looking down
Standing behind the curtains
behind the windows
behind the windows
Some faces could only been seen,
Become square as they appear,
From their windows
There were some kids carrying books,
Laughing at other kids when passing.
Sweat and mud filled the air.
People like me would just follow
The song as the builders sing.
The songs, voices would continue
And the windows, become absent faces
Starring at us.
ShadiatiQue ©2010-2014
kinda scary those faces in the window.
ReplyDeletei would def much rather be out under the sun
listening to the builders songs....
This poem seems quite chilling to me. The last stanza especially with the voices and windows becoming absent faces....staring. Thanks for taking part in Poetry Jam.
ReplyDeleteYour poem made me think of a dictator, or a dictator's child. Someone who has been set aside from the rest of the population and watch ithers live from afar. Very powerful!
ReplyDeleteThere is a power in building or setting ourselves to the task,it almost seems to be the story of two covenants. Lots here and very thought provoking.
ReplyDeletethe last three lines have an air of deep sadness about them...
ReplyDeleteSo vivid... & I really like the role of faces in this poem.
ReplyDeleteGreat images! Loved that line "windows become absent faces" :-)
ReplyDeletethe window images; very sad indeed and in such contrast to the ones sweating and building futures
ReplyDeletemuch love,,,
Those windows --- haunting and well-described.
ReplyDelete