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Sonnet Mamma

Every girl is a mama
So singing souls sing
She has two eggs within
O she is not barren
Nor a dead wood, the choice is yours
Choose both to call her a mama
With your “we don’t look alike”.

Choose one alone then call her mama It is yours to like or split
With your “look alike”
Failure to get in, each month
She bleeds
Every girl is a mama
So singing souls sings.

Be lifted not praised

Irrespective of your
Different fathers and mothers
Be lifted my child
You’ve outgrown being praised
This days people
Fulsomely
Find it easy to adulate
When things get undulated
In a matter of eyes blink
The cloud in their mouth gets heavy
They lay off rains in words
To wash off that they praised
When you are praised kindly absorb it
When you are lifted kindly adsorb it
You will last more being lifted than praised.
This days people
Fulsomely speak
Both online and offline but
Be lifted, praises agitate
You… My child.

First Law of First Love

The definition of love is preferred
In the first person you ever loved
Called first love; but let’s say gravity
Because no matter how high you are
It brings you down to the ground.

First:
This love is great; especially
If in your smiles, foes can see
That
You are in love with gravity
If otherwise, it was never a love.

Second:
It greater; especially when
Gravity gives
A yes and no answer to flight
“Am I loved back
Where do I belong?”
Questions that drums out.
No confidence in this love
Sooner you advance
Advancing away from gravity.

Then:
The definition of love
Begins to evolve
From a soil
To a plant that can be grown.
No matter how
Deep inside you know
The love for gravity
Sprung without cultivation.

Finally:
Farming on the lands
Lands of love
You will realise that
The definition of love
Is most preferably
While loving gravity
If otherwise, it was never a love.

Murderers

Now that a life you take
Has it added unto thee
An ample life of
Forever chains
On half-life stretched roofs?

Without an apple heart,
Red is the colour you paint
Exquisitely to perfection
Satisfying a pain
O! what a passion.

Hiding in a cryosphere
Politics its the core
Wish less I could care
For your iced-tears
Is not far from shred.

Onyeche Vincent

Onyeche Vincent Onyeka

Onyeche Vincent Onyeka

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