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Monthly Archives: March 2019

I am losing hope

I hate it so bad
When I hear I am
A talent, I swear

Blow off candlelights
I am losing hope
On the bleak my dear.

How can I move on
When the flames and heat
Disintegrate wax.

Giving me back pats
For innovations
I took to the max.

I am losing hope
On the clean and pure
Means of noble name.

Everything has changed
ill psychology
Brainwashes the sane…

I am losing faith
On myself and all
I stand for and bore…

Yes, variety
Is a spice of life…
It seems; not anymore.

©2019 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Tone: Mrs me

Satisfaction is the result
Sandwiching the gigantic cake
That she effortlessly bakes.
These love portions are the sweetest
So authentic far from fake
Someday she has my name to take.

©2019 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Tone: Sauces and pots

In cooking pots,
Her spices and salts
Makes the best sauce.

These cooking pots
Are love enduring
All steams and ashes…

The spices and salts
Are little things
And more she does….

Her sweet sauce is
Enamoring-
-Love, seen in us.

Gladdens my heart
Her kind of love
Could rise dry bones.

©2019 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Mensch

If you were born
With a silver spoon

And never sweated
For golds and burgers

Remember those born
Under the poon

Nothing is wasted
Be a helper.

©2019 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Tone: Attached

Your presence kills me slow
My heart drums loud and fast
It pulls me, clouds I go
At sunrise and sunset.

Your absence makes me sick
My brain crash, where are you?
It fess up a high risk
At all cost, I need you.

©2019 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Sonnet: Stepping stones to dive

Patiently, I waited for dews
A million miles from you
The mentality saddens me
Legit jobs, now a mockery…
But that I do on stepping stones
Until I dive into deep blue sea
To become as fresh as fish.

Picking from the bottommost
Treasures of reward at its best
On your fast lane dubiousness
You mock my steps and dryness
Saying I never would quench a taste
But you will unendingly thrust
In the sea of oozing wealth.

©2019 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

New Nigeria

I am off to cemetery
To tell dead Tom, Dick and Harry

That there is an upcoming hope
Despite the painful economic slope.

For titans and lords of the past
Are all but mortals, wrinkling fast.

More so, they are losing grips
To new faces and sanity limps.

Like farmers clearing and burning
We pray for a better season.

©2019 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Dying on board

The needles and syringe
Has worked, from winter,
Through summer and spring…
…Terminal it is!

Repeating cycles
Just so to cheat death
“You got just few hours”;
Then said men in whites

Several stuffs
Puffed wide, through his brains
“Oh, is this the end”;
He said to himself.

He could feel curtains
Closing fast on him
Even when movies
Had only began

All his smiles then froze
Head over shoulder
He close his cold eyes
Slowly blinking twice.

Stranger in the states
While living his life
So he owed to death
His flesh on home soil

But the stress when gone
And cost to incur
Transporting his corpse
Would be hot as hell

So he then embarked
On a journey home
From great Atlanta
At least while he breaths

Delta flight took off
Cruising altitudes
Eight hours on the air
Three hours to touchdown

Friendly shadows came
Passing through his flesh
He could feel his leg
Kicking the buckets

Off jurisdiction
His greatest joy was;
Tragedy but brave
And just humanly.

©2019 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Nigeria: Eating flesh, gifting bones

It pains so hard
That we still find
Folks eating sand
In a rich land.
Disparity
Between parties
Pose such pity
In my city.

Poverty sketch
Hits highest pitch
Those who eat flesh
Gift bones and preach.
It pains so hard
That we still find
Folks eating sand
In a rich land.

Many reach heights
To detach sight
From fingers that
Fed them in past
Disregarding
The beginnings
And forgetting
Humble gardens.

Seems the rich aim
At sending rain
To combat strain,
But make more gain;
And, not to sink
They kick, poor pick
Demeaning rocks
Praising rich folks.

©2019 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu
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