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Monthly Archives: April 2014

Tales Of A Wife: Callista

One of the sunny market days
Eke’ to be precise
I saw a young lady
Majestic like ego size
The sun must have an eye on her
As she reflected all shone on her

We trade contacts
Callistee or Calista?
-None she replied;
-Spell as Callista
I nodded so it sank deep
Somewhere down memory lane.

Her smile is narrative,
Her voice has a symbol,
And in her name is a sacred history
Re-echoing from its heap
Who is who not to believe
If indeed she is faith?

Not our cultural name:
O Yes!
Globalization bleached her
Most beautiful by name
And true African I still see.

Staring at her eyeballs
A bold turns a coward
Lucky charm cowrie
The future is bright I see
Callistee or Calista?
Spell as Callista

Stretching we hugged
Topic for another day
A sunny day
Yet she’s cool as a cucumber
I wonder

Naked-ripe banana body
Fragile as a calabash
She doesn’t even know
She is a burning hell
Callista I whispered.

Her name didn’t lie
She’s an epitome of beauty
And an angels isotope
In human flesh
Who is who not to believe
If indeed she is faith?

Callistee or Calista?
-None she replied;
-Spell as Callista
O sweet Callista
No I can’t describe her
No I wouldn’t describe her.

House Of Birds

In the house of birds
A duck might be a duke
Married into
But I am born into
By blood

Weather peacock or turkey
Inherent, I am a Queen
Who pumps out vigorously
And step confidently:
Her Royal majesty the Queen.

Not always primed by hanger
Radial outwardly
It carries me along
So I do; that the Queen does
Without it, big bird would be naked.

On my behind
It is tail feathers many
Spread out in a hanging mosaic
All feel my mirth
Yet they are scared of me

You are too fill of pride
Excuses; while not read the sign?
When my wings touches the ground
It simply says:
The House of Birds is also humble.

Keep or Kill

I see good loving
As an hibernating beer
The best of all;

The mute in hush
Just like a cold in its frost
It keeps love in check.

Please don’t wake it up
My head is directly under its month
And my chest is wrapped by its claws
If you do, love will begin to bleed:
It would not be suicide
If only It isn’t awaken.

Love is the currency in heaven
When it cuddles me,
I feel rich in its padded fat,
And younger on it love pad
I am that it either keeps or kills
Please don’t wake it up.

Nne (Mother)

Pardon me,
Pardon me if…
I call you gods
Cause you create life!

I know an earthly lady
Whose appearance makes
Every class sprightly stand
She’s not the first daughter
Yet she makes Flavor sings
“Ada.. Ada!!”.

Not the first lady or might be
Her leading role factually
Affront those that hates
No exaggeration
Her very beauty
Could capsize a boat.

Picture this image I paint
For this craft has a song
“Sweet mother
I no go forget you”
All heart within
Swiftly gets drumming.

If you are alive or
Ever breathed
Most definitely
You came from one
Call her Nne
Call her Mother!

Let her be any distraction
A child’s shield a sweet kiss
A mans destiny
Or his weakness
Don’t be weary: At
Seventy she’s still sweet.

Holding Hands

Excuse me please
May I have your hand:
Not just figuratively
Just do as I do,
All and all who
Grace planet earth and breath.

Like the Sun picks out gold pieces
While making contact to earth
Hold mine and I will hold another
Who will hold another
And the other another
In that order.

Hey you there, my dear
Take a faithful step closer
Into the bracket
Bracket of joined hands
Take a grab and get impinged
All the way to higher

Love know no bounds
Over the mountains,
Valleys and rivers
Hey you there, my dear
Long distance or not
Just give it a shot.

Black or white
All around the world
Like technology connects
Grab a tentacle
Feathers from fathers
Mothers, sons and daughters.

Hello world, its today
Like pipes of plumbers
Let’s hold hands together
We never can tell
It might be
A sure code to eternity.

Crying Poem

There is this glass membrane
That separates me from…
-you know what?
Just forget the name

Whenever I looked through
Through I see someone not me
Pretty, cool and true
Making sense like a brain

Even when others where inch apart
At all times we had this complex
Science say our understanding was
A permeable membrane

Each day we talked
In close contact
Or through the glass
Clear your thought

It isn’t what you think
Well: that was sometime ago
Now the transparent glass
Has got a silver coat behind it

All I see is me
Starring at myself
Laterally at me
Yelling in disbelieve

Come on cry cry cry!
Can’t you see
See how meaningless
And fast the hand of time dance

Come on cry
Cry cry cry
Life is a poem
Not meant for smile all the time.

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