New Poetry Book Coming Soon

cover of my new book entitled "Immortalized Through Poetry."

Today is not a day for writing poetry but a day to let you know what`s been happening with me.

As I sit down to write this piece, I reflect on my life and what poetry means for me. I realized that each day I live; I am one day closer to my destiny, wherever it may be. I have more poetry to write and more love to share with the world and I will not let sickness, poverty and depression steal my joy and my motivation.

Leon Pryce wishes to thank you all for your love and support on my poetic journey through life. I have written a poetry book and it has been sitting on my table for the longest time; and I know that my fans have been dying to get a hold of it. Well until I get some financial backing then I will not be able to print any hard copy, nevertheless I am working hard on the manuscript so that I can put it up online.

I know that my poems have touched many lives out there and while life goes on then I will have to continue live on. What I have to give is all that I’m able to give, and that is love and poetry.

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Poverty

poverty stricken people living on the streets

All my life I’ve lived

In poverty

I toiled and suffered

And battled it daily

Poverty is a demon that deprives you

Of everything you have

Poverty, poverty

I was born in poverty

I lived in poverty

I have felt the shame and disgrace of poverty

I have felt the brutal assault of reality

When it comes to poverty

My very life is the perfect example of poverty

I yearned for riches

But none would come

My way

All I see is just poverty

Rearing its ugly head everyday

Poverty, oh my lord

Why poverty

Why me? I often asked

Only wishing that this

State of life

Would soon pass

But it forever lingers

With no intent of relief

This state of poverty

Is causing me too much grief

Poverty, poverty

Need I say more?

Well it seems I will

Have to remain poor

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Poverty

All my life I’ve lived

In poverty

I toiled and suffered

And battled it daily

Poverty is a demon that deprives you

Of everything you have

Poverty, poverty

I was born in poverty

I lived in poverty

I have felt the shame and disgrace of poverty

 I have felt the brutal assault of reality

When it comes to poverty

My very life is the perfect example of poverty

I yearned for riches

But none would come

My way

All I see is just poverty

Rearing its ugly head everyday

Poverty, oh my lord

Why poverty

Why me? I often asked

Only wishing that this

State of life

Would soon pass

But it forever lingers

With no intent of relief

This state of poverty

Is causing me too much grief

Poverty, poverty

Need I say more?

Well it seems I will

Have to remain poor

My Days In Poverty

I never forget my days

In poverty

I never forget

The Dry bulla and the bread

The butter-pan with

Sugar and water

That never left my head

I never forget

The dumpling and butter

Playing in dirty water running from the gutter

Or even bathing in the rain

That used to be my

Only shower

I never forget 

going to school

It was only

Fried dumplings and bag juice

A little exercise book and a piece of pencil

In my knapsack that was

 on my back.

Sometimes I felt so blue, because my grandmother

Could not afford a pair of shoes

Those were my days

In poverty

So there`s no need for anyone to envy me

When you see me acting with pride and dignity

Most of my life growing up

I had no TV

But if I go to my

Neighbor`s house

My grandmother would

Beat me.

Whenever I looked on

My feet, I can`t help

But smile

Because they did some

Very hard work

Growing up as a child

My grandmother could not afford bus fare

So wherever we`re going

We had to make up our minds

To walk a few long miles

Those were the days

But there`s a very important role

That poverty played:

I have learnt a lot, and

It taught me

How to appreciate life in good and bad days

I`m still not rich, but I’ve come a long way

I have accomplished many things

In my life today

I never forget

Porridge without milk or bush tea without sugar

At nights when time is hot

The wind outside was all we got

I never forget 

Going to church

Only a few coins

My grandmother could bring

Because she could not find enough to pay her tithing

When church was through, the elders and deacons

Would overlook you and shake the hands

Of those who are richer

Than you

I never forget

Because all those things are

A part of me

Night and day I used to pray

For the heavenly father

To rescue us

From the grips of poverty

I was never bound for destruction

Because deep down I knew

My life was under construction