Poem by Kene Anthony
When politicians hoard palliatives you complain
Now you’re hoarding accolades, thinking its gain
Why should I mean so much to you in life,
But yet you never said it till in my tribute
If I’ve made you smile, tell me; don’t wait for the tribute
If you gained wisdom from me, tell me; don’t wait for my tribute
Don’t ask my corpse why I left you in this cold world,
When you never told me how warm I made your world
So the couples has been having issues, till he died
I wish he read the tribute; he’ll have a reason to live
When you know how important someone is to you
Why deny their relevance and your dependence
Can we please write the tribute for her to read now?
I think it will help avert the suicide she’s about to do.
Tribute is for the dead, what’s for the living?
Of what importance are sweet words to the dead?
So much thanks and gratitude unexpressed
So much love and affection not shown
So much relevance and importance gagged
The grave must indeed be so rich
If dead bodies could read the tribute written,
The grave would have been empty and dead.
Why write good things about me that you never told me
If I lived without it then leave me dead without it
Nowadays people find it hard to share a facebook post
They don’t want the poster to feel like a hero
So when they read your mind blowing post
They’ll skip the reaction and avoid commenting
If she’s beautiful, tell her; don’t wait for the tribute
If he’s trying, tell him; don’t wait for the tribute
If you appreciate them, tell them don’t wait for the tribute
Stop hoarding, stop muting; start expressing, start distributing
Don’t write in a tribute what in real life didn’t contribute
Dead bodies can’t con any eloquently written tribute
I can’t see your heart, tell me what’s lurking in it
An Ideal tribute is writing what you told me in secret.
©2020 Kene Anthony