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A mute love letter

I woke from my lay
Thanking stars on Christmas eve
That led me right to your way;
To elaborate
Intensity warm embrace
As I truly feel within

So I took a pen
As to express, words of wise
In this kind of paradise
My black inks turn white
Expression knocked my passion
In the realm of total dark

Your sweet pretty smile
Inside my head, took me miles
To places where gardens are red
And every phrase
I pen down, seems so light
As feather and empty as leer.

None elaborates
This sugary kind of romance
As I wish to portray it,
I love you my dear
Writing you a poem is the
Most difficult thing to do.

©2017 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

On his throne

Before my music box unplugs
I would love to sit on thrones
Not to overthrown the King
Nor to question His great realm

But have galaxies on my gaze
With the air coming from my breath…
A friendly storm and iceberg
While my saliva pours down as rains

Demystifying gravity
Picking up things of pretty weights
Not to oppose gravity
But to appreciate and perceive

Up high, I shall understand why
He often spare predators;
But I am on a borrowed life
Ghosts to turn, one day in time.

©2017 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Sense of lack

There is this off sense of lack
Loneliness brings to the heart
It is so intense and sometimes dark
Often fenced; in white and black.

It is kind of hot and cold
Needful of somebody; say
Somebody to always start a day
And to off burden at night.

Until a light cross the path
Sense of lack will disappear;
Be ready to feel heavy yet light
In the presence, of such pearl.

©2017 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

It is love

What vital principles
Could make heavens call
And Apple fruits fall
Unnaturally far from trees.

What invigoration
Could turn nonentity
Into birds flying high
Disobeying gravity

What sort of a spirit
Is this lifeless entity
That scatters rocks,
Fall fence and melt ice.

What has demolished me
With lemons and a lime
And at the same time,
Sugary freezing heat.

What sort of madness
Is the craziness in action
Controlling my heart beat
Perking me up to passion.

And later in shyness
The river flows in profoundness
Marry me tends to pop
Such happiness…. it is love!

©2017 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Witchery Folklores

When there is an extra day
In February so to say
Disasters comes in the year
With folklores we never lear…

Most business in our world
Comes home with the spoils of war
We rejoice while thanking God
Forgetting we raised our sword.

As soon as the tide and flood
Makes our sail so rough and bad
We often point our fingers
As we cry us a River.

In the midst of our fears
We conceptualize our tears
That they are pricked by bad birds
Making profits on our heads.

And from the spoil of our breads
They flap wings and turn clean
Like vultures that they are
All the way home from afar.

Their sharp ears hear; so we lie
And refuse to knee and cry
Forward gazing from oak trees
They are busy like the bees.

©2017 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Sour reality

We all want Apples
Yet we plant lemons…
And soonest it grows
And the soil we blame.

Yes, the both are fruits
That have their difference
One is a fantasy
The other sour reality.

© 2017 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Lament: Sexual attraction

We all want beauty
Fine as a frogs hair
Yet we are indeed
But ugly as sin
In terms of attraction.

We critic all fashions
We despise those in nude
We rebuke faking slimes
We are holier than thou
Spreading legs in grime.

We halt those hopping trains
To sweet of ecstasy land
We call them prostitutes
We change genres of music
For those dancing in rain.

Yet we take sexual pose
Erotic only in the dark
And when the sun is up
The prostitutes wins
Our lovers as their spouse.

©2017 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Lament: Unmarried Churchwoman

We all want true love to at least locate us
Our badness is the bible and church we go
Working seeming holy but the girls in clubs
And the filthy brothel keeps getting our brothers.

Good ones always die like goodness is a crime
While the bad ones gets the sweetest emotion
Seems we lack seduction, yet we perfect picture
Till our slime all begins to seem all wrinkled.

©2017 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

There is God

Severe affliction stroke my mortal kneels
And my hands were fused on a rolling wheels
I struggled like I was about to drown
Then the lights shone for hope to ending frown

I made His word a noble solid ground
Got into prayers on several rounds
I prayed that I walk into daily meal
That grace in the deserts shall favour me

I imagined how on His golden throne
He did bestow on my head a crown
Victory, amongst all I shall heed
And never forget, that there is God.

©2017 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu
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