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Riding for Nature

Wrinkles seek no consent
Before it penetrates

Staying young is a race
No one can win the chase

I asked, where lies my fate
When I go grey and late

All beauties have a phase
But none can keep a pace

So now I ride my horse
Not to put coin in purse

But to give thanks to God
For this beautiful world.

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

Tough as an old boot

They say; the way home has the longest miles
Saying His grace, I wait for my hour

In your eyes, I am dull, weak and lazy…
Torn ligaments, cold tears gush from my eyes

I can’t remember the last time I smiled
Now a days, mountains keep growing taller

All things are hard before they get easy,
That was when Sunday mornings were easy

Not now when skies have swallowed the tower
Indeed; the way home has the longest miles.

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

Spinsterhood

Heard you’re scared
Of being single
And so desperate
Hence want to mingle.

Menopause is coming
Any man, you pray..
Sister, a fretting care,
Turns hairs to grey.

Angel or Demon
To you, ring assures
Desperate times calls
Desperate measures

I wish you see,
The bigger picture…
Wedding in haste
Is repent at leisure.

Take your time sister
Till ring and rose find you;
There are soulmates
For everyone; dear sister.

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

Back to crèche

I wish, I practice magic
When situations are tragic
I would never let death win
Those who sink, will have a fin.

I take giant strides for success
Just when I am about to pop and rest
Postman lands pink slips on my hands
Am to success, a one night stand.

I wish, I practice magic
I will destroy all tragics…
Cold outside, but I am sweating
When asked; “how are you this morning”

Should I reply the obvious
“Fine”, when am a faulty box,
And even with my aging flesh
Life keeps taking me back to Crèche.

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

Womb Prose: Axle Sonnet

Mum missed her visitor for a week
Then first trimester came in so quick.

Although with vomiting and fever
Not your fault, so don’t you bother.

Daddy can’t wait to hold your arms
Tiny five fingers and cradle charms.

You are the gift that completes his pack
Your cool heartbeat kept pulling him back.

So intrigued at your mother’s big round pot;
The new sweet look that she did begot

Gaining weight and looking beautiful
Although in pains, till day she births you.

Mummy can’t wait to push the axles
So prepare for contracting muscles.

©2019 http://Vinzpoetry.WordPress.Com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Womb Prose: Man’s gift and joy

Children are gifts
and a joy to man
Growing in the womb
like plants in farm.

Stretching they kick
walls of mother’s sack
Their echoing heartbeats
pulls daddy back.

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

Womb Prose: Kicking bumps

I love to feel your kicking limbs
There goes my hands, to hold and climb
I will like to know what you think
I love you dearly, let it sink..

I bet your world is full of thrills
Worry not of the future bills,
I do not mind looking unkempt
Just to make sure, you are alright.

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

Does being good pay?

A bad penny always turns up..
I once believed, bad trees do not
Yield good apples, but I was wrong
When I saw men disturbing peace
Breaking black pipes, blowing up streets
Fetching from the National cake.

I saw “Malams”, apprehending men
Slitting sacrificial lambs,
Terrorizing the governments.
I saw folks, blending in dark bushes
Joining the gangs causing havoc;
The type that makes the Devil proud.

Funnily, those we call miscreants
Are to governments, faithful ants
To keep them hush, they grease their palms
Flying them out as amnesty
Coming back, they even contest
Dictating for governance.

But here we are as good people
Eating the scraps and leftovers
Of the miscreants who live large.
Good conscience may be good pillow
Certainly not in our headless
Societies, with so much unrest.

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

May I have this dance

Spending every day with you
Makes my fantasies come true
When we go out dancing tonight
Stretch your hands around my waist

Do not be scared, I do not bite
Take me as your pivot site
Turn around, there is no rule,
When dancing from the heart is true.

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

Vanquished brutally

The riches of the world, makes me humble
Yet, a new week brings a new fumble;
No way out for the candle in the wind
Finally, my village people wins.

Thought I had substance, till devil prized me
Sheepishly am rigid up to my kneels
Standing like a tree blown fiercely by storms
It seems like, my village people won.

In hot pan but the wax refuse to melt
Obviously most wax gained many regrets
No way out for the candle in the wind
Finally, my village people wins.

The battle is lost in eyes of soldiers
Hence, I often look over my shoulders
Standing like a tree blown fiercely by storms
It seems like, my village people won.

Inside me rage builds ready to explode
Heavy heart, yet loads comes in like a flood
Sticking like a glue, blowing like a storm
It seems like, my village people won.

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