Talking to myself through poetry
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My first heartbreak came from my father
Who made me wear my bib and tucker
After promising to take me to the end
Only to dodge and drive me round the bend..
My second heartbreak came from my mother
Pressing my wounds with boiling water
I was broken underneath her armpits
I thought she promised not to press it.
But these heartbreaks prepared me for the world
It opened my eyes to see beguiling odds
And how they cloud the gullible brain
Hence, I trust not all calling me sweet names.
Down the streets, I see fierce men in blacks Throwing punches and spraying bullets back On both the dead guilty and the innocent From such…
Are we now familiar strangers? Our silence seem to write love letters On empty space through the louvers; I miss you, let’s talk it over……
Thank you God, as I clock thirty three years old today… Dear readers and fellow bloggers, join me celebrate my new age, put me in…
We are celebrating sixty, Yet there are no basic amenities, Nigeria!! In her house is where I grew up, Everyday she worsens, I am fed…
