Peter Plumb
23 July, 2004
Author: James Amuta
Seventy-two year old Peter Plumb
Was a fine old man of English blood,
Admired by his neighbours in Havenhill,
Who fondly called him Sean Connery.
Peter Plumb was as generous as a genie -
He must have come from a lineage of angels,
To whites - he was a blunt brother,
To the blacks - he was a gallant comrade
To him: "The skin may differ but the soul is one"
In Kenya, Peter Plumb was father there,
He suckled the faith and hope of orphans,
Spread the gospel of Christ to the poor,
Filled the starving millitants with salvation.
And to tha kwashiokor-stricken children -
He gave the Bread of Life.
Peter Plumb was a father of refugees,
In his own little way he built schools with clay,
He empowered Africans with western knowledge.
Then, in Havenhill one sun-starved morning,
Peter Plumb was laid in a mahogany box;
He wore his trademark smile -
Lukemia couldn't take that
away
And he also had one last testament
Printed on a clean white paper -
that simply read:
"Pray for my departing soul in an African tongue..."
------- Author's Notes -------
This poem is a celebration of the life of Peter Plumb who died recently in Havenhill, Soffox, UK. This poem is an attempt to bring to light one man's love for his fellow man. A man who preached equality until his death. |
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Comments on this poem/writing:
| Martin Vann (63.185.80.254) -- Saturday, July 24 2004, 10:03 pm James, Some of, well, probably, most of us, never heard, of Peter Plumb, yet, I'm sure, we all wish, we had his heart. When food is served for the hungry children, I'm sure, "they," will know his name. When a child cries, no medicine is avalible, then, you hear, a nurse in ragged clothes, cry, here comes Peter Plumb, that child, survived. Where ever pain and negelection seems to thrive, to my God above, show your true love, send Peter Plumb, I'm sure, he is a deciple of yours, and we need him back, or, just share his soul, with those of us, who, follow, Peter Plumb. I hear a child cry, a woman in child birth, a man, with no food to eat, how can you my God, create another, Peter Plumb. Oh, so, easily, if we only believe, in Peter's love from you, which he has shared with us, of weaker souls, my we feel his strenght an carry on. One thing I remember, from church as a child, "There But, For The Grace Of, God, Go I." -MartinV |
| Meridian (64.12.116.200) -- Saturday, July 24 2004, 10:45 pm Hey James Amuta! Real nice dedication....Rest in Peace Peter Plumb! I never knew him either, but the way you described his personality in this poem, made me see how special he was to everyone.... Good poem James! Smiles, Meridian |
| Tarna (4.226.171.1) -- Monday, July 26 2004, 10:30 am ..the poem succeeded. Makes me want to know more about him. sounds like he had a worthy life.. good tribute to a man who "lived" his life |
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