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Making sweet love…

From hypnotise to trance, I ‘ll take time
And all my senses to listen carefully
To her body languages and cravy needs;
I will put her to bed and take her to prime
Driving her third eyes into holy ecstasy;
Gently, I will kiss her soft ruby lips
And gloss, be it slimy, lemon or lime.

I will tickle her cylindrical neck
While sucking sweet goodness
On and off her milky soft breast;
With me, she will never bend or break
While I seriously touch her nakedness;
I will generously put her tears to rest
By giving her sweet love without a break.

I will kiss her navel and stomach
Flat, till it grows big into bumps
By digging face into her righteous crouch;
I will search for estasy of the highest rank
While I lick her inner out like five dogs;
In loudness and in a church holy hush,
I will love her to full from an empty sack.

I will suck her nipples like a child
Rub and kiss her lofty apple bottom
Suck her fingers, wrist, feet and toes;
I will smooch, and get her cuddled
On and off the beds till the birds hum;
I shall take her body and soul to ecstasies
While making love to the lady of my fond.

Ask questions

When you are not very sure,
What is to sight, clarity or blurr

When you don’t really know,
Where to turn, for yes or no

Know that askers don’t get lost
Know no ice is permantly frost

Knock and yeah shall find, the heat
Keeping the ice in a latent state.

Know that questions are like a scent
Knowledgeable when answers are got,

Know that no one asking ever gets lost
Knowledge is a question and answers got.

  • Onyekachukwu Vincent Onyeche

Richest


She has to be well spoken
Fruitful, fertile
A good singer and dancer.

She has to be smart
Caring, intellectual
Affectionate and good mannered.

She has to be homely
Submissive, handy, motherly
And a truth teller…

She has to be gorgeous
Beautiful, a good smiler
Sweet and seductive.

She has to be fruity
Nails polished
Clean and well dressed,

But he has to be manly
Nothing other than
Rich and wealthy.

Every child

Every child has a name,
Innocence, not a shame

Resilience, always they try
Mood swings, loud they cry…

Limitless, always they feel
Attention, they seek finding zeal

Tenderness, all the same;
Every child has a flame

Burning loud voraciously;
In truth and in honesty.

Every time we fight

Every time we fight,
Like a dust and a broom,
Underneath a mushroom
Is a love that can not be bent.

Yes in here, we ought
To be, a bride and a groom
A flower that bloom
Not torn, gown and suit.

In here, it all seems sweet
Outside the anteroom,
But bitter in the backroom
We put on a smile for hurt.

Every time we fight
The sun becomes a doom,
Shadows of the darkroom,
Upon our lovingly feet.

Misleading us through a path
Into a deadly grillroom
Master room turns a guestroom
Where we argue and fight-

Each other’s wrong and right;
Though lost in a showroom
That used to be our playroom
Where love bars refills the heart.

Every time we fight
We turn love into toom and loom
Magnifying microbes by our zoom
Searching for an imperial fault.

Yes in here, we ought
To be, a bride and a groom
A flower that bloom
Not torn, gown and suit.

In here, it all seems sweet
Outside the locker room,
But bitter in the backroom
Our love grows eachtime we fight.

Realized she was in love

A lonely heart is an abandoned sight
Until a red stranger breaks the event;
Her sounds shall have birds that rove, 
Then she will realize, she is in love.

In the corners of her dislike and doubt
Admirations grow fonder and stronger;
Love then became smart, tall and slender
White eyes, so cute, with a gentle look.

Wishing she wasn’t a sophomore student
Maybe he would have perceived her instinct,
Like an apple, she hope to be ripe for him
Songs with sweet melodies and so is hymn.

Out of the blue, by the ruby mistletoe,
Love walked up to her, on a fragile toe;
Though with hesitancy and shyness at first
But he was brave, kind, sweet and smart.

They started with, hello and hi, by the street
And the rest introductions turned history;
Love published a chapter, of her story
Writen by words he passionately altered.

Now everydayness is a feeling of love presence,
And those sweet words that took off her fence;
For the very day she instantly surrendered!!
Was the day, she realized, she was in love.

(C) April, 2017 (Vinzpoetry)
By Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

When we ghost

We all have our individual chance
To share the ranch or break a branch
When we are put on a very hot spot.

We all have fell down on our knees
Pleading to remain young, wild and free
To our youth and needs, wishes we sent.

We all have love that panders some times
Wondering if we are alone in this universe
Only to get blank, in that awlful moment.

We are in a field, our desire is in a glass
Hopes on fire, sets flames across the grass
Leaving clouds behind, in our heavy heart.

We do know, these things we’ve lost in fire
Are fading in tandems over a rotating tyre
But we wish to know, reasons the ice do melt.

We all have asked, what and why we dream
We’ve held doubts, dubbed faith to cream
Pondering what next, when we all turn ghost.

The Toast


For a toast, truthfulness is a candid truth teller
Nuptiality is allusion, brother and sister,
On the vovage, searching for a comforter
Debonair met beauty, as a complete stranger;

Attraction and affection, seafoods and fish
Breaking ice, stretching hands for a reach,
They both had lots to plow, lisp and preach
With a cultural heritage to learn and teach.

Together they turned the tides, to one end
So they blend, and propel things that tend
To grow in different space, race and creed,
So, they grew a connection sweet and kind.

Under the blue skies, they turned friends
Flapping birds, walking together down the aisles;
Isn’t it adorable they share same memories
Titled, together forever, on nuptial ferries.

So let’s make a toast, for two best friends
Who have seen the beast deep down a skin
Yet fearlessly paddled the ship, in dirt so clean
Commonly uncommon, for a King and Queen.

Allusion of two colors

Necessarily, we go for routine checkups
Normally, once in every four years
But the doctors hide the schematics
Playing child’s play on brains by logics,

With wonderful witching words
That arouses enormous feelings
They manipulate our valuble votes
While crying out sweet crocodile tears.

Vaults on a sick bed, drip after drips
Physiological change they annouce
They treat the tempest’s temporaries
Without going after the gravy illnesses.

Faulty flirty foundations, now the plebs
Are endangered, frightened in their bliss
And mess; confused, now rigs after pigs
Many factions and two colours under recess.

#APoemStory about Nigeria and Nigerian Politicians

By Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Searching

Searching through the terror of the globe
Searching for the peace of a dove
Something that falls from up above.

Something so old yet stays brand new;
Sparkling as fast as an intensity of light
Something with no dish, red flashes of light.

Searching for no clashes in dry and wet dew
Springing and sprinting on an organic mindset
Spoting no horror but a cloak of bright light,

Singing songs of curosity in the soul of the eyes
Swimming in bloods of animosity, with
Some sort of bonds, pleasures not pains.

Standing on the sharp edges of the knives
Searching for no scratch, glitch, and hitch
Sweeter than tea but better than cheese

Searching for an inner organ, frozen to ice
Searching for a skin, corroded and burnt
Searching for a half, twin with or without a fault.

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