The Battle field

A sunny autumns day in October

The gentle whistle of the mornings breeze

The ground camouflaged with orange and brown leaves.


The sound of the protesters marching in masses,

Their thunderous chants echoing in the streets

Vehicles halted, journeys delay, it’s the start of a revolution.

No time to play.


The rising Phoenix pales in comparison 

To the to the people’s voices.

Voices that have been ostracized

Voices that have been condemned

Voices that have been muted

But they stand triumphant 

And say;



Minutes and hours pass by

As the protesters are steadfast in their cry,

Armed with posters and banners and megaphones too 

To fight for their rights and live as they choose.


They imagine a life without fear of having a skin colour,

A certain religion or shaming a culture.

So, they march and march and march onwards,

For the future generations, their children unborn.


Determination painting their faces all around,

The revolution is here, and they are not backing down.

                                                                                  -Victoria Adeleke





This poem is about: 
My country
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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