Welcome to my world of creative thinking. Where I write and publish daily poetry….
A poem a day, like an Apple; keeps the doctors away.
– Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu
This is a blog, I personally tag as “talking to myself through poetry“.
Hence the title; vinzpoetry.wordpress.com.
I do not live in time, I
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu Ehiedu live in moments.
I am a natural born dreamer, I see moments of tomorrow in glimpse as dreams. But I never saw me holding the inks. Hehehehehe…
I am a researcher for the National Institute for Freshwater Fisheries Research (NIFFR), Nigeria since the year 2013. I studied Biochemistry (M.Sc & B.Sc), but my enormous and intrinsic love for expression and descriptive writings brought out a pathway of lines in me. I most likely began writing poems at the innocent age of seventeen (17yrs) in the year 2004 from what I can remember. My very first poem was titled, colors of life. In it was an expression in eruption about life. I remember reciting it to my Dad and he was so amazed. Well I guess I am wired to be a poet.
Before poetry, I once desired to be a medical doctor alongside a musician and a novelist. But as life grew older, and opportunities changed faces, I left my first poem inside my computer.
I delved into becoming a novelist and a musician while studying biochemistry in Delta State University, Abraka. Eachtime I have a new song or story, I will spill it out to the hearing of listening friends.
I remember a friend of mine (Sholukumi “Perkins” Ayemienokpe) who said my lyrics book would be better as a poem than music and that was the full origin of a poet in me.
I joined several poetry website until I was blocked on poetryfoundation.org for attaching an indecent picture to one of my poems (Her plaint body) there. So in pain and disappointments, I created a blog for my poems here on WordPress in 2009. I titled it, thetruepoesy.wordspress then later changed to Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com….
In 2007, I wrote ” Larry of all trait “, a birthday poem for my dad. Larry of all trait was a poem I loved so much which led to other poems like Africa, Nigeria born, Dad’s automobile, mum glass heart and others. I also have a lot of poems written to and about my mother. One of my first love poems was inspired from a first love affair.
Growing up in a country like Nigeria one can’t seem to be deaf or dumb to the situations of the economy, and political crises hence my poems as both inspirational and as a social economic critic explains.
My inspiration comes from everywhere and at anytime. Poems I wrote at special hours are mostly those I cherish the most. I honestly don’t have a best poem from my poems, because I write poem daily, and I fall in love with every new poem. Hence my best is yet to come. “My golden wife” is among such poems I fell in love with but soon after a new one in such category was written, it became a thing of the past. Speaking of writing poems in any place, A gasp of love was written 11:11am, 14th July, 2017… in the toilet. Well a funny place to write a poem but I must confess I comprehend more in the toiletculture.
I write about nature and culture. Speaking of culture, “Roasted yam” is a series of poem I wrote… It’s written around an African traditional charm. Every language might have theirs. One of my days in Ika land (Agbor, Delta State Nigeria). I learnt that parents or relatives use charms to bring their love ones back home from outside the country. One of those charms is a roasted yam. If they roast a yam and place enchantment on it, the love one would return from overseas to eat of it. But most times this dark act, leaves the returnee disoriented and often leads to death. Click to read disoriented.
I write Odes, I write about death (mostly call death, “black boy” in my poems), I write about youthfulness, I write for daughters, I write to support feminism, I write against fanaticism and extremism, I write with the words and dictions around my brains at the moment of fiction.
I write a poem a day, for fun, love and for the future.
One funny thing about my struggle in life is as I am about to give up, there comes a drop of water on my tongue from no where, reviving me up back on my feet… #VinzSuccessStories
Vinz’s poems are compositions written in verse or stanza decorating and painting its ink by the use of imagery, metaphor and significant meter.
Poetry has become a part of me, a language, a passion and a desire. It is an element that gets me going on while I face the beauty and ugly times of life.
Please use the side bars to navigate. There are lots of poems to enjoy. Click Here To Read Vinz Poetry.
You can forget me but don’t forget this very great quote of mine “for every foreign item is local in its home town hence originality is yours to pick!!” – Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu.
Apart from the Ode compilations, all characters and events in these poems are fictitious and bear no resemblance to any person living or dead. Any similarity is purely coincidental and unintended.
The poems written by The Author is a property of the author and Vinz Poetry, hence they should not be transferred, printed, dubbed or copied into any media without appropriate approval by the author.
Title: Back in my Younger Days
Back in my younger days..
In Ibusa, beside St. Augustine’s,
I will roll tires
In pants, half naked like ancients in the woods
I would play hopscotch and build mud houses
Drew on papers, cry till I choke or get mum’s attention
Afraid of the dark, frightened by strange tension
Bathed in the rain,
Innocent I was so please don’t mention.
I was full of watts,
I bet you I was an Eagle
I took pride in my ways, my home was my ego
‘Tech is coming’: who would believe if I had said so?
But hope it doesn’t seem like a very long time ago…
I fell in love with bright colors and smiling girls:
Electricity flowed through at skin contact
I was an elephant at same time small as an ant.
In such an innocent age…
Good times was what I was used to,
But now the air I inhale is lighter than it used to
No more flying urine and touching my toes while I stand
Is no longer as easy as it used to…
Current still flows, yet not through all lady’s hand
But only a few who makes me feel like child
For innocence vanished back in my younger days…
By Vincent Onyekachukwu Onyeche.
Title: Talking to myself
Author: Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu
Link: Talking to myself
Hey! I know you are me, from the block
Same black leather, same soil and rock;
But I so don’t get it, in fact you suck…
All I want is a good reward and luck.
Hey! dear me, you are my only limitation
And obviously, my band of admiration;
Swinging from the ink of imperfections;
Scrawling from my mixed reactions.
Hey! I’m talking to you, put me in mind
As you seek intelligence, don’t be blind;
If it grows before it falls, then it is pride
Don’t be overambitious, make me proud.
Hey! life isn’t about bouquet of flowers
Neither about the toilets and showers;
Flushing and cooling my burning desire,
So perk me with an unquenchable fire.
Well good poetry will nourish your heart
Should love melt down, turn off the heat,
Right the wrong, as my defending knight;
Honor and remission; are the ways out.
We have seen through the lies and truth,
Did you plant this troublesome root…?
Don’t waste our carrots on a rabbit’s sight
To make it see clearer than an rivalry cat.
Wisdom isn’t all about going to schools
But about proper use of available tools;
Success isn’t about a perfect pull through
So don’t be scared to fall, dare to rise too.
We should be known, you are my kind,
Spirit and soul, I am your thinking mind;
Hello dear; just dare me, to my dire need
So I set it off, before I leave, this life I live.
By Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu
Please for more, always use the side bars to navigate or search column to find specific/interested poems. There are lots of poems to enjoy. Thank you!!
– Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu
Title: Coal riddled ridden
Author: Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu
Coal riddled ridden
Land of my kindred’s Kindred
Blessed with beauty and kindness
Inferiority complex hides my hidden riches
Titans keep pocketing my everyone’s treasures
Porous I am to poverty and diseases
Frightened by woe and racism
Crying and starving
Ashamed is me coal
Should I perk up? …yes
Should I worry on?
The brainteaser has an answer
Fight for the brotherhood.
By Onyeche Vincent onyeka
Title: Voice of the youth
The elderly people will say,
The young people are slay,
Too young and so childish
To me that is not an issue
But a damaging piece of evidence
Of the way they are thinking
How old they’re becoming.
In the office yesterday
Where I get pay, pray and play.
An NYSwalked up to me
Mid age range twenty to twenty-five
Wrinkled, talking like seventy-five
Lacking alertness and anticipation
I laughed all through his conversion…
Not because it was shallow alone
Not because he disregarded a phone
Not because he was poor mentally
Not because his words are my enemy
But because I wish to remain young
To see how this fella’s song
Will be, when he is actually seventy-five.
I am Vincent Onyekachukwu Onyeche
Title: Voice of the youth (https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com/2017/07/01/voice-of-the-youth/)
Year of publication : 29/06/2017
Author :Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu
Title: Native fly: King of Agbor
Never knew how rich
A place called a land
By the Bini empire is.
By the hallway
An elderly woman praised.
The winding horn blow
Calling out the mighty ‘Agwu’
Whose presence terrifies an enemy…
Eze bu’ eze
An elderly woman praised
As he sits on his golden thrown.
The ruler of a town
Town with a cheerful heart
Dein they call him
The roaring lion of Boji-boji
Youngest king crowned
All over the world.
The youngest King ever
Whose name flows
Wonderfully to the world
In none stop never
Right from Orogodo River
Sitting on his golden throne.