e-Paper Poetry of Vinx

Home » 2019 » June

Monthly Archives: June 2019

Prosperity curse

Last night I had friends
As many as stars in sky
We were all in paradise
Seems we were born to fly
But, where did friends go?

Diamonds, silvers and golds
Never fading but bold
Everyday came with new folks
Who turned blood, I thought
Now, where did friends go?

Am I now an island?
In times of prosperity
Friends were plentiful
Now that the well is dried-
Oh, where did friends go?

Prosperity made them come,
Adversity was their text
Pray I get back on my feet
Strong, wise, fit and firm
But, where did friends go?

©2019 http://vinzpoetry.WordPress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Sonnet: Lessons from my parents

My parents have no fancy cars but greater mass
Through them I learnt to lower hands and respect ants.
The grass matters, always render help to others
Having a name is not the same for coins and fame.
Their blood my drink, I built my bricks, from all I sucked
I felt the rod, I cried and nod, away from mud…
In their actions, I picked passion which to function.

You do not burn your home or turn away from dawn
Simply because, you have a course, to break a curse.
To mould a clay, you have today, so they will say;
Never you bail, hammer thus fail, running from nails,
Make no excuse, do not refuse to be of use
Is not by wants but dues and sweats you pay for worth
Do not show strength when humble horns can induce choice.

©2019 http://vinzpoetry.WordPress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Old man failure

With great pleasure a dog dug a grave
It snuffed out not treasures but a rage
Coming from dried bones of rock age.

Lamenting on how they had all failed
Cutting across, mirrors, lenses and led
Refracting the light, visions they bend.

No silver spoon but unfavorable genes
Coming deep from tall ancestral trees
Posthumous clear, regrets never cease

Life gave guns as toys, they sort for lucks
From drugs and scam in school of hard knocks
And as the twig bends, they planted on rocks.

Lack of persistence got them no win
No self discipline they were never clean
Not through self efforts, they gained power from bins

In all their positions, intemperance;
Procrastination, were their best friends
Until it lured them to undesirable ends.

Many an old man, has past they wish to rewind
Where they built glass castles on empty cloud
Throwing stones, hitting floors regretfully loud

Remember time ticks fast, it isn’t yours to own
And the living body you wear is but only a loan
For the old man failure stays with him to bone.

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

Join my poetry WhatsApp group titled “Poetry Challenge”

Follow this link to join my WhatsApp group: https://chat.whatsapp.com/JtJNnXKa46oBWYHHDMypwE

Maiden of old times (3)

One crazy thing about our obsession
Was that, flash she ran, we saw slow motions
Basking in the euphoria of passion.
Elusive as she dressed, we could draw her
Shapes and curves, singing viva forever
Men, born and unborn would love to wife her.

Her unguilt make babies fight for her womb
Men saying; “I love you”, was like a bomb
Bringing Twilight of the gods on all tombs.
And as she heard, her sweet eyes always hide
We were all fools and love was truly blind
Not now, love is by size of rubber bands.

©2019 http://vinzpoetry.WordPress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Maidens of old time (2)

The old time maidens drove a hard bargain
Their smiles were contagious as their own names
Wooing and getting them were men’s main aim,

Bright-eyed, brushy-tailed many men were bent
Traveling the world to get her some wealth
Praying she accepts values he shall get.

But these days, many sample nakedness
On social medias, ask and you shall get,
Her privacy she flaunts outside her nest.

Stealing of hearts, has been demystified
Give her purse, she’s a digger of gold
Unlike the sweet virtuous maidens of old.

©2019 http://vinzpoetry.WordPress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Maiden of old times (Part 1)

The maidens of old times always stood out
Hiding in long gowns, fashion didn’t shout.

Hotness transmuted from an ancient dress code
She was shy yet, bold in men’s seventh cloud.

Now, long gowns are replaced with bras and pants
Nudity rewards are fashion effort.

Seems like maidens of old were Rivers dammed
Whose water over time, forced their way out.

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

Synecdoche of Current page

The shadows we run from helps us turn
The inherent aptitude, from page to page.

Writing books with no table of content
Just preface gotten from the naming days,

No human can take back the hands of time;
The characters in here are none frictions.

Grey and shadows are our awaiting shelves
Forever young is a pie in the sky.

In life we live, we Author our own book
Writing our own stories on mortal sheets.

Current page is at times the worst page of our books
Though at times, not the case, for those on top the world.

Every day a page turns for next chapter to come
No Author knows the end of his story.

The shadows we run from lives by the grey
An inherent aptitude in our books.

©2019 http://vinzpoetry.WordPress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Nigeria: We are not leopards

Hey! we are not leopards
That can not change their spots
School teaches us to compete
But right now, drop the books

The largest black nation
Should be doing better
Drop the competitions
We learnt on chalk and board

It has so misled us
Hence our Nation crumbles
Let us adopt teamwork
For our Nation to grow.

Hey! we are not leopards
That can not change their spots
Our poor mentality
Need a speedy u-turn.

The largest black nation
Should be doing better
Stop the awful mortgage
Of our children’s future.

We are not immortals
Night and dawn affect not
Let us make a good use
Of our enormous wealth.

Hey! we are not leopards
That can not change their spots
Enough of reoccurring
Painful drawbacks we get.

The largest black nation
Should be doing better,
Not locked and caged inside
Our own stupidity.

For just like charity
That does begin at home;
Our Nation’s growth
Depends so much on us.

©2019 http://vinzpoetry.WordPress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Nobody send

Every man
Is for himself..
Just like a shirt,
With tight long sleeve

You try to wear
Or take it out,
Until you learn
Not to expect,

Much from people
And a pie crust
Nothing you will
Get done to dust.

Best helping hand
Is at the end
Of a long sleeves,
Just you to fend.

©2019 http://vinzpoetry.WordPress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

%d bloggers like this: