He came from a place where the dust danced with the wind,
A small house on the edge of the land,
Where meals were scarce, but hope was plenty,
He dreamed of a life where he\u2019d have more than enough.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He worked through the nights, while others slept,
Pushed through the days, with sweat on his brow,
Rose to the top, from nothing to something,
With pockets full, and pride in his chest.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But as the riches grew, so did his shadow,
He forgot the struggle, the hunger, the grind,
The boy who once knew the taste of hunger,
Now feasted on power, with vengeance in mind.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He looked down on those who once were his kin,
With eyes full of pride, he turned his back,
He thought he had won, thought he had it all,
But he was blind to the fall waiting in the dark.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He sought revenge on those who doubted,
Paid them back so heartless, left them in dust,
But the more he gained, the less he had,
For in his heart, a void had formed, swallowing trust.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
One day, it all came crashing down,
The wealth, the fame, the power he craved,
Left standing alone, with nothing but regret,
He realized too late, the price he had paid.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He lost the love that once kept him warm,
The friends who had stood by his side,
And as he looked at the life he had built,
He saw it was empty, nothing to hide.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Now he walks with his head bowed low,
A lesson learned, but at what cost?
For in his quest for riches and revenge,
He forgot the man he once was, and all he lost.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
He came from a place where the dust danced with the wind,A small house on the edge of the land,Where meals were scarce, but hope was plenty,He dreamed of a life where he\u2019d have more than enough. He worked through the nights, while others slept,Pushed through the days, with sweat on his brow,Rose to the […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":2583,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[97,25,98],"tags":[35,49,34,50,61,55,53,22,48],"class_list":["post-2582","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-poetry","category-solitude","category-storytime","tag-poems","tag-poetess","tag-poetry","tag-spokenword","tag-spokenwords","tag-stories","tag-story","tag-walkingshadowpoetry","tag-walkingshadowpoetrykenya"],"aioseo_notices":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/walkingshadowpoetry.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/09\/pexels-photo-1458696.jpeg?fit=1880%2C1253&ssl=1","jetpack-related-posts":[{"id":2585,"url":"https:\/\/walkingshadowpoetry.com\/blog\/the-mighty-fall-by-walking-shadow-poetry\/","url_meta":{"origin":2582,"position":0},"title":"The mighty Fall by walking shadow poetry.","author":"walking shadow poetry kenya","date":"September 3, 2024","format":false,"excerpt":"From a small, dusty place where dreams felt far,He rose from the ground, reaching for a star,Hunger was his friend, but hope held him tight,He worked through the night, chasing a light. 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He had always struggled with his weight, and it seemed like the extra pounds wouldn't go away no matter what he did. He tried every diet, and exercise routine, and even joined\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "storytime"","block_context":{"text":"storytime","link":"https:\/\/walkingshadowpoetry.com\/blog\/SPOKENWORDSandMODERNDAYPOETRY\/storytime\/"},"img":{"alt_text":"a man holding his tummy","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/walkingshadowpoetry.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/06\/pexels-photo-11911053.jpeg?fit=1200%2C800&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200,"srcset":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/walkingshadowpoetry.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/06\/pexels-photo-11911053.jpeg?fit=1200%2C800&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200 1x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/walkingshadowpoetry.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/06\/pexels-photo-11911053.jpeg?fit=1200%2C800&ssl=1&resize=525%2C300 1.5x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/walkingshadowpoetry.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/06\/pexels-photo-11911053.jpeg?fit=1200%2C800&ssl=1&resize=700%2C400 2x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/walkingshadowpoetry.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/06\/pexels-photo-11911053.jpeg?fit=1200%2C800&ssl=1&resize=1050%2C600 3x"},"classes":[]},{"id":2377,"url":"https:\/\/walkingshadowpoetry.com\/blog\/am-a-man-am-human\/","url_meta":{"origin":2582,"position":2},"title":"AM A MAN, AM HUMAN.","author":"walking shadow poetry kenya","date":"June 21, 2024","format":false,"excerpt":"In the shadow of his mind, he walks alone,Battles raging, struggles deeply sown.Invisible wounds, unseen scars,The weight of the world, like iron bars. A man once strong, now lost in thought,Invisible chains, his spirit caught.Each day a battle, a war within,Fighting demons, to find peace again. Friends and family, they\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "POETRY"","block_context":{"text":"POETRY","link":"https:\/\/walkingshadowpoetry.com\/blog\/SPOKENWORDSandMODERNDAYPOETRY\/poetry\/"},"img":{"alt_text":"close up shot of a man crying","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/walkingshadowpoetry.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/06\/pexels-photo-9063615.jpeg?fit=800%2C1200&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200,"srcset":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/walkingshadowpoetry.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/06\/pexels-photo-9063615.jpeg?fit=800%2C1200&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200 1x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/walkingshadowpoetry.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/06\/pexels-photo-9063615.jpeg?fit=800%2C1200&ssl=1&resize=525%2C300 1.5x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/walkingshadowpoetry.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/06\/pexels-photo-9063615.jpeg?fit=800%2C1200&ssl=1&resize=700%2C400 2x"},"classes":[]},{"id":3392,"url":"https:\/\/walkingshadowpoetry.com\/blog\/bridge-of-redemption-book-by-precious-owoko\/","url_meta":{"origin":2582,"position":3},"title":"Bridge of Redemption book by Precious Owoko.","author":"walking shadow poetry kenya","date":"August 11, 2025","format":false,"excerpt":"Sunlight poured through the stained-glass windows, spilling warm colors across the quiet church. Meanwhile, the soft creak of wooden pews echoed faintly as people shifted in their seats. In the front row, Daniel knelt, his head low and his fingers locked so tightly that his hands ached. For years, he\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "poem"","block_context":{"text":"poem","link":"https:\/\/walkingshadowpoetry.com\/blog\/SPOKENWORDSandMODERNDAYPOETRY\/poem\/"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/walkingshadowpoetry.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/08\/IMG_20220207_231440.jpg?fit=639%2C958&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200,"srcset":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/walkingshadowpoetry.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/08\/IMG_20220207_231440.jpg?fit=639%2C958&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200 1x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/walkingshadowpoetry.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/08\/IMG_20220207_231440.jpg?fit=639%2C958&ssl=1&resize=525%2C300 1.5x"},"classes":[]},{"id":3536,"url":"https:\/\/walkingshadowpoetry.com\/blog\/the-crying-very-painful-moment-of-men\/","url_meta":{"origin":2582,"position":4},"title":"The crying, very painful moment of men","author":"walking shadow poetry kenya","date":"February 18, 2026","format":false,"excerpt":"Who listens to the cries of the fatherswho bury their wives and go hometo children still calling out, \u201cDad?\u201d Who holds the man who must be strong at the funeral,strong in the living room, strong at the dinner table,when all he wants is to fall apart without frightening the little\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "poem"","block_context":{"text":"poem","link":"https:\/\/walkingshadowpoetry.com\/blog\/SPOKENWORDSandMODERNDAYPOETRY\/poem\/"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/walkingshadowpoetry.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/04\/MG_0273-scaled.jpg?fit=800%2C1200&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200,"srcset":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/walkingshadowpoetry.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/04\/MG_0273-scaled.jpg?fit=800%2C1200&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200 1x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/walkingshadowpoetry.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/04\/MG_0273-scaled.jpg?fit=800%2C1200&ssl=1&resize=525%2C300 1.5x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/walkingshadowpoetry.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/04\/MG_0273-scaled.jpg?fit=800%2C1200&ssl=1&resize=700%2C400 2x"},"classes":[]},{"id":2327,"url":"https:\/\/walkingshadowpoetry.com\/blog\/squirrel-sammy\/","url_meta":{"origin":2582,"position":5},"title":"SQUIRREL SAMMY.","author":"walking shadow poetry kenya","date":"June 14, 2024","format":false,"excerpt":"Once upon a time, in a peaceful village, there lived a little squirrel named Sammy. Sammy was known for his kindness and helpful nature. Every day, he would gather acorns and store them for the winter, ensuring that he and his friends would have enough food. One sunny morning, as\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "storytime"","block_context":{"text":"storytime","link":"https:\/\/walkingshadowpoetry.com\/blog\/SPOKENWORDSandMODERNDAYPOETRY\/storytime\/"},"img":{"alt_text":"red squirrel on brown table top","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/walkingshadowpoetry.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/06\/pexels-photo-460775.jpeg?fit=1200%2C800&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200,"srcset":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/walkingshadowpoetry.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/06\/pexels-photo-460775.jpeg?fit=1200%2C800&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200 1x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/walkingshadowpoetry.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/06\/pexels-photo-460775.jpeg?fit=1200%2C800&ssl=1&resize=525%2C300 1.5x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/walkingshadowpoetry.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/06\/pexels-photo-460775.jpeg?fit=1200%2C800&ssl=1&resize=700%2C400 2x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/walkingshadowpoetry.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/06\/pexels-photo-460775.jpeg?fit=1200%2C800&ssl=1&resize=1050%2C600 3x"},"classes":[]}],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/walkingshadowpoetry.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2582","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/walkingshadowpoetry.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/walkingshadowpoetry.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/walkingshadowpoetry.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/walkingshadowpoetry.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2582"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/walkingshadowpoetry.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2582\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2584,"href":"https:\/\/walkingshadowpoetry.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2582\/revisions\/2584"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/walkingshadowpoetry.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/2583"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/walkingshadowpoetry.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2582"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/walkingshadowpoetry.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2582"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/walkingshadowpoetry.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2582"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}