Frail and Helpless

Frail and Helpless

On a brittle edge I sit

Bleating like a trumpet

When there’s a touch on my tail

As though a tiger.

Proffering the right measures

Comes my gifted skill,

But alas I fold my arms

And wait for words to move mountains.


Once beaten they say brings us caution

But a hundred mistakes bring forth

Hundred lessons heavy in my brow.

For if anger were gunshots,

My lamentations would shoot on

Bangs for ears to recall

The preachings of yesteryear.


One naira dropped for our misfortunes

Would make me rich a man,

With a knock of change calling at the door.

And even if I decide to repent

And embrace my shortcomings for real,

But then I’m nothing more than me

Too frail and helpless

To fight the big temptation

That corruption brings.

6 thoughts on “Frail and Helpless” by Dowell Oba (@dowell)

  1. Bleating like trumpets? Well, I don’t know if that’s a cool simile.

    we hope for a better country where we won’t even need to fight not to talk of being frail and helpless. Well done.

    1. Lol…. Chemokopi, you amuse me even without trying. I mean that in a good way. Your euphemistic comment too.

  2. Good poem.

    Where have you been?

  3. I appreciate this poem. Some people are really so frail and helpless, they cannot fight the ‘Goliath’ corruption.

  4. @chemokopi, thanks! @kaycee, I hail. Been busy. Thanks @mildredhuges.

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