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There come a time

In a fearful moment

After the talk silence is observed


And there come a time

When to kill pride and shame

Though a difficult rocket launch


All in silence, they off their robes

Orally they never say it is time

Indeed the contact brings a speech


With sweat dripping, they are numb

Lots of calories lost

Each reasons a different technique

Next time they rally


The only judge is the bed

The bedbugs could sue them

But it is a silent creature.




By Onyeche Vincent Onyeka

© 2011 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com

Dreams are maps

Dreams are maps

When I wake up in the morning

All I have to do I’ve seen

…Especially; all pressing needs.

But which way does it come

…Direct or indirect?

Mostly I can’t dodge

Perhaps destiny’s drawn plot

When I make mistakes

None is too big to pull through

…Especially; if I slept well …a night before.

When I have a goal,

I call it a goal


…When I dreamt or see a vision.



By Onyeche Vincent Onyeka

© 2010 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com

Save Me; Nigeria

Save Me; Nigeria


Have you ever tasted pains

Nor swallowed suffering like pills

On an empty plate?

If you haven’t: thank God for your position…


Laziness not the chief hitch of my people

Civil-rights dished out our meals in a broken pot

Our leaders and dogs are not peerless

Equality, ask not why but why not.


Their only truth is good mourning

However, check your watch.

Our oil-well Judas thirty pieces of silver

Pocketing poverty, ask not why but why not.


Brothers, sisters and parents

Mar and scar my able-flesh

This nation is a no Hamlet

Save me… Aso Rock


Biggest amongst the west


Our leaders prowl misjudging

The prowlers as innocent


The prince of Hamlet

Now goes outside his assignment

Save me;

Mother democracy is dead.



By Onyeche Vincent Onyeka

© 2011 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com





Tales Of A Wife : Sheila



When I saw her during the winter

Tucked-in thick big hood-sweater

Casual like a tweedier

The inner-me said she glitter

Looked her dead in the eyes, only to get fever

Smiles of a newborn, I could shiver

Anticipation worsen the cold in winter

Weather was harsh, no fast coming summer

Mere hearing her name tongues twister

Haler: I forever dwell in favorable fever

Her caress an essential sweaty tummler

Job well-done sweepback in my locker

Soft skin like vela “what a twofer”

Sweet-talk and touch I feel a toddler

When I saw her during the summer

In beauty-upholster

I realized the reasons God rested on the seventh day.


By Onyeche Vincent Onyeka

© 2011 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com




Tales Of A Wife: Grooming her hair

Enveloping her within the legs,
Mailing passion via a brush 
Brushing her long…
Bushy hair
From the flaked hair-tip
Touching the crowded crown
Desire is forever
Beauty lost its hairbreadth. 

Enveloping her within the legs
Mailing passion via a string 
In and out
Like fork to noodle
And packing

Enveloping her within the legs
Mailing intimacy,
To brush-over agony
And brush-up honey
Her mirror is oversaturated with beauty
She hates mirrors, she is homely 

Parity of a brush-stroke
Passion a bubo rises
As the brush goes down
Smile always come out
Passion a limpid
Sensationally aroused
Censored !
Ah…. you young kid.

Duchess 2: Last Letter to Esther

Dear Esther,
You are the finest of ebony no lie
God broke the mould after he created you so fine
Innocent gaze;
Let me be the one in your eyes
Let me be the tears in your cries
While I’m alive and when I die.
Dear Esther,

Cross no lips, I’ll carry your cross
We don’t need to be in Persia
Just put on a smile with you we can both be King & Queen
God broke the mould; you’re so fine
Seeing you Duchess; a Dukes’ pain’s pleasure
Sanative yet, you give my blood pressure
Dear Esther, you’re so fine
Say yes and be mine and I’ll be fine.

The only muddies I’ll deep both arms
Reading my heart is no tilling a farm
It’s cool and calm
No volcano harm
You as an image block my brain like a dam
Dear Esther, my dye -in-the-wool affection
I know I’m not the only one but
You can’t find this true obsession
A last train to passion, no smite
Clown in a circus I’ll be
To always and forever
Make you smile.
Dear Esther,
Esther don’t be a myth
Yours sincerely;
Dear Esther.

O there she stands

O there she stands


O; there she stands

Opposite me; I mean very close

For moments I dreamt

Don’t dare: she is fine.


As beautiful as beauty

Accidentally her name means pretty

Well shaped in figure, call her figure eight

Or that hatred I hate


On her vista

My manhood grows

Signs of breathtaking lust

Will my likelihood ever be expressed?


O there she stands

Unconsciously smiling to so pleased

Repositioning and destroying my medulla

O… there she stands.




By Onyeche Vincent Onyeka

© 2011 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com

The Girl I first Love

The Girl I first Love


When she’s blonde haired,

Beauty is green-eyed

As I touch her chocolate skin

Slim and slender

Her all natural body


Her hair is Africa-dark



America-style; braided

Australia-peaceful paradise


Strutting across my sight like vision

She is the air I breathe

The ghost to miss

She is the perfect choice

She is give and take


I enjoy her natural tits,

High-energy moves

She is my most intimate affection!

An absolute killer beauty

One of the very best

Nature is the first girl I love.



By Onyeche Vincent Onyeka

© 2011 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com

Tales Of A Wife: Anonymous

Her lashes are sooty coal
Her smiles are exactly shaped,
I wish I were a mold.
To stare mutely at her down the road
Watch her laugh out those teeth as white as snow
The trumpeting trumpet, she’s that I love to blow
Maybe she don’t: but I think she knows.

Her backside curved valuable like gold
If she is money my all should be sold
‘Beauty Queen’ I call her chola,
Her architect had a plan neatly nocuous
For making her so deftly gorgeous
Such a beam: she could be my nurture
Even when she says not a word to me by the road,

Her presence is so-so,
She is such a beam never to let go,
Every now and now she walks by the road
High heals talking: I stand like a mold
Eyes wondering like a lost toad
Maybe in her I could find a home
But how can, when she steals an inner-bold?

Dangerously sharp as a woody thorn
For her, my skin is willing to bleed
I hope it yeilds result like a batchfed.
She is a tempting sin I love to hold
Her name she says not to me by the road
My liver and nerves fail,
Science may say its virus but I’m simply scared.

I make no sound nor pretty word
Pretty hurts
Honestly I yield
Wish I could talk
All my coins I drop in a wishing-well,
Yet, most flaunting got me so cold
As she passes by the road.

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