Home » 2012 » April

Monthly Archives: April 2012

Unintentional Existence: Sailor

Sailor

Sailor

Sailor

Sailor

    The paddling gentleman lays cold on his cradle bed beside the firewall
    Many eyes shearing tears and bodies reckless as they gaped at him
    Wind of the eastern Nile, Wind of the western Niger,
    Which one of you would sail the gentleman home to rest
    Whitish pleasant music home of peace and comfort
    Wind of the eastern Nile, Wind of the western Niger,
    Which one of you is scared of the famous or obscure?
    That in the room of grey and silence
    You would not retrieve his will and last words of blessing
    While the gentleman sail across the lonely still sea.

© 2012 (D²rupoesy)℠ thetruepoesy™
Written By: Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Tales Of A Wife: She Can’t Wait

she can't wait

she can’t wait

She is an accident of nature
Totally beautiful from head to toes
She once stood next to him
Things are certainly not as before
She can’t wait because he is not Bill Gate

This girls voice is still an organ in his soul
She knew his voice, the smell of his soul
That; that shines, no longer brightens their souls
She looks into the future with eyes of fear
The man she sees got Wills she thinks are mere wishes.

She just can’t wait
To join him complete his paintings
She doesn’t want
To be an old beautiful lady
Sitting next to him in a work of art.

Though all wives are married
Surely, not all married are wives
Tears on her eyes
She still looks into the future with eyes of fears
The truth she sighs, she just can’t wait.

written by: Onyeche Vincent Onyeka
© 2012
(D²rupoesy)℠ thetruepoesy™
https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com

Tales Of A Wife: So Many No

The windowpane binds
And holds on to the glass
To the very dead end
Despite the dust and friction
Love is such a good thing
Song writers sing

Some answers fly like a jet
All on high hills, wonderful hips,
Kissing lips and all the same hair net.
Adorable apple-bottom for a clarinet
Most remarkable forget not her lovely step
Which never wait for a lagging clock.

Not only her even many after her
The kings’ daughters along bush parts
Farms, gardens and down the same roads.
First, a passion of across loves oceans,
Then the passion flies in air
But in one direction

She has this voice similar to hers
A smile similar to frown
A Kings dream for a lady in a crown
She is the thousands in town
Same rider of different horses
Shouting so many no.

Cock: Knock By Heartbreak

A thud in heartbeat
A sigh of heartbreak
Tears prevent the ink from writing
Waning the paper into tearing.

Despite the fact that she is caring
I have been deceived by adoring.
Love in slow-motion,
I have been misled into falling.

Funny enough, it was all of my heart
I cast into one basket loving,
Now it is rocking, booming, crashing,
And crumbling…

My tears a downpour,
Grab an umbrella.
My love-cake incorrect flour,
Leave the dinning.

Now her tears prevent my chin from smiling
Loosening,
Widening
And destroying my smile-channel.

As A Kid

T. Iwelumo

T. Iwelumo

As a kid

As a kid, I so much heard adages that I never understood until I grew up. The bible helped in differentiation: the good from the bad, since I was scare of going to hell. Everyone has a past that keeps hunting his or her mind. When I was ten years old, I came across three elderly men sitting beneath a tall palm tree lamenting on the past years, which they miss. The stories they told were touching that I had to shear tears with them. I never had things to think of; I played and ran around the street in pantaloons. Electricity supply was a failure hence hopscotch, football and hide and seek were my favorite games. For this present day child, computer games and movies have taken over my favorite games. My parents were neither poor nor rich yet they had a farm. I hated farm work that at then when my mother would ask my elder sister and I to carry a basket fill of cassava from the farm to the house, we would wonder why a mother would be so heartless subjecting her own little children to such stressful hard work for little did we know it was part of the parental care, and she loved us. Keeping things hide or hair of course, I never hesitated to half my basket as I walk through the lonely path. I learnt pounding fufu by force. At then the mortar always ran as I stroke the pistil crushing the yam; so I would summon all my younger ones to get hold the running mortar. My dad never made mistakes giving me multivitamins whenever I leave for school and I also never forgot to deposit it in the waste bin as soon as I got to school.
There are many things on earth that exist crystal clear, but we realize only when we fail. When I was ten, I made a bet with a friend. The bet was called hit and fall. Anyone who succeeds in striking down his opponents’ property would own it. A very good sport I felt as I made success claiming his stuffs. At that year, my mum had a store. One day he came to buy sweats, as I picked up to sweat cup to give him his articles, he stroke it down.
Of course, that was my mums’ stuff; I fought hard with him until the neighbors came. They separated us and reported the case to my mum when she came back.
I was thinking I just saw the sunlight for the last time and was annoyed that I wouldn’t have a befitting burial as I was a bad kid. So surprising she did not beat me up like other days, but yelled and scared the living soul off me. This narrow path seems not worthy but it is the generator of my decency.
The past plays a major role in the present that if there is something I would not dear for the love I have for my mother; it is gambling.

I Book

At a halt and lifeless in the shelf
Man seek knowledge from neighboring books, turning me out
If not of security, the animals would love to have me
For silent is the atmosphere of the room, I am masked spider web
The smaller books laugh at the most colorful because I am dusty
I have never been touched for ages
Whoever read of me shall have the wisdom of Solomon
The abundant interminable talents of the world
The overwhelming desire of a perfect life
All the above and many more including peace like a fountain
I am the book of great deeds, dread me
But why do I scare life and attract the yellow ants and choking dust?

©2012
https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com

written By: Onyeche Vincent Onyeka

I’m A Leader

I’m a leader…

That is why God made me man

Regulatory times that I fall, I should rise

When there are problems as destructive as a hurricane

Not all that speaks are heard

But vocalizing at an inspirational hour, I make sense

Though it is mandate I stand and watch my plebs scuttle

I should not regret for it’s a leader subsist

 

I’m a leader that’s why God made me brave

Decisive, the hours made for but just the rage

That I fear not whether I’m wrong or on the silent path to grave

Boldness a true character that I’m a famed hero

Though I see the result as bitter as vinegar

I never regret the deeds; for a braves’ leader must be sage.

 

©2012

https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com

written By: Onyeche Vincent Onyeka

I Shall Strive

    I Shall Strive

I will fly
Like butterflies
But this time, high
Higher than the butterflies,

Over the sky
The limiting sky
Even if I crash,
Expect no cry.

I will try
Call me all,
A mere fly…
I’m not shy.

Hi, Mr. Sly
Crafty,
Wily
And tricky.

My sigh is silent
Served by the shooting stars
And gone astray
In the scorching sun.

Blink your eyes,
Mr. Starry-eyed
My fears are dead
On its orbit, I shall never drop.

©2012
https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com

written By: Onyeche Vincent Onyeka

Unintentional Existence: I Have Been There

My dear
You will always leave here
For I have been there
Down the valleys and mountain top
I have rolled tires
With my pantaloons on
I have watched the secondhand of time stirred
It is not that I was eventless
But anxious,
To notice all hush-hush underneath the sun.

My children
Play with mud
Get my wipe
And receive your beat.
It is not that you are wrong
Or I like you shed tears
But,
Just call it parental care.

Out of curiosity
I have created, destroyed, and repaired.
I have been beaten
By lash and objects.
On my check, palm, back and buttocks.

Even when I lie,
Or say the truth,
I must always payoff the deeds.
I have smiled and I have cried.

Like the blubbers of babies,
Brothers,
Sisters,
Mothers,
And fathers had snivel.
Life goes on.

©2012
https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
written By: Onyeche Vincent Onyeka

Housed Stranger

Tick . . . tick… tick

The heart drums fast

Bubbling like a stream boiling.
The legs may appear composed

Terrible he is a green-snake in a green grassland
Trailblazer in misdeed; a one chance grabber,

The heart as dark as ash; yet a saint he appears.

Assertively, he searches everywhere
“Who stole it?” He questions everyone

Never seen, caught, or suspected by somebody;

Invisible has he appeared to everybody
Heartless, surely he is Mr. nobody
Beware ay you housed stranger
The sun never shines forever.

 

©2012
https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com

written By: Onyeche Vincent Onyeka

%d bloggers like this: