Welcome to Poetry.com
Poetry.com is a huge collection of poems from famous and amateur poets from around the world — collaboratively published by a community of authors and contributing editors.
Meshack Bwoyele Keya 1960 (Vihiga)
The old man stared fixedly at me as he adjusted his robe.
His eyes gazed deep into my soul as if in a heavy probe.
My eyes involuntarily dropped as the stare did my confidence rob.
Heavily my heart in my ribcage did like an earthquake throb.
My trembling prevented the escape of my suppressed sob.
The old man cleared his throat noisily.
"One thing only is given to all equally.
Light may be equal but in some shines dismally.
Air may be the same but some areas is partially.
Yet time to all is given equally.
Some use it specially.
Others use it carelessly.
And life goes on continually."
The old man filled his pipe.
His hand flew and killed a fly in one swipe.
Never in life did I meet a person of his type.
He waited for a moment to become ripe.
Then from his eyes a tear he did wipe.
"Managing your time well is success.
A poor manager failure after failure he faces.
Your management may make one a wreck and in a mess.
Another is full of success with no remorse.
What one confesses is what they possess."
Then followed deep silence.
The silence was such an offence.
Granddad left me with no defence.
I was left hanging on a fence.
Yet he slept and the silence was immence.
I cried bitterly at once.
Time and tide waits for no man.
It neither spares a woman.
Days may be short and nights long in a lifespan,
Yet time is equal in moon or sun.
Don't laze or be on the run.
Use the time as well as you can.
About this poem
Words of the wise
Discuss this Meshack Bwoyele Keya poem with the community:
Find a translation for this poem in other languages:
Select another language:
- - Select -
- 简体中文 (Chinese - Simplified)
- 繁體中文 (Chinese - Traditional)
- Español (Spanish)
- Esperanto (Esperanto)
- 日本語 (Japanese)
- Português (Portuguese)
- Deutsch (German)
- العربية (Arabic)
- Français (French)
- Русский (Russian)
- ಕನ್ನಡ (Kannada)
- 한국어 (Korean)
- עברית (Hebrew)
- Gaeilge (Irish)
- Українська (Ukrainian)
- اردو (Urdu)
- Magyar (Hungarian)
- मानक हिन्दी (Hindi)
- Indonesia (Indonesian)
- Italiano (Italian)
- தமிழ் (Tamil)
- Türkçe (Turkish)
- తెలుగు (Telugu)
- ภาษาไทย (Thai)
- Tiếng Việt (Vietnamese)
- Čeština (Czech)
- Polski (Polish)
- Bahasa Indonesia (Indonesian)
- Românește (Romanian)
- Nederlands (Dutch)
- Ελληνικά (Greek)
- Latinum (Latin)
- Svenska (Swedish)
- Dansk (Danish)
- Suomi (Finnish)
- فارسی (Persian)
- ייִדיש (Yiddish)
- հայերեն (Armenian)
- Norsk (Norwegian)
- English (English)
Use the citation below to add this poem to your bibliography:
"Wisdom that was" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2021. Web. 5 Aug. 2021. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/101580/wisdom-that-was>.