Category Archives: Biography

Mothers deed

I don’t know how you were born
But I have someone a unicorn
She will skillfully wrap me up
With her loving wrappers on top.

I don’t know what your mum did
But mine, her tongue was my bib
When I ate, it was her good deed
That saw me through every hot meal.

©2017 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu
image source: Harinzey Art
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The green trip

Born a black man on a dark soil
Made of green and white folks
With two horses at shield side…
Blessed with gifts of prophesies
And all my dreams come to pass.

Many of us, sat at the bus stop
Patiently at the finger of God,
Deep inside my dream last night.
We were not tribal heading for
The land of great opportunities.

Out of the blues, came a train
At the hour of five o clock…
And thousands choked themselves
Into the tightly filled long train
Which later moved in a snail pace.

I continued my wait for a bus
Though expensive, in recession
But trip to Lagos, was worth it
Hours later then came another train
Leaving Delta towards opportunities…

I came on board with a hundred
As against the bus of thousands
Along distance from south south
Not only cheap but safe and fast
To the land of milk and honey.

This train was the unusual type
It traveled twice as fast as light
In the dream I saw an African rail
And I woke up so optimistic
That my country, will soon be great.

©2017 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

#Haiku: Up

I have just a dream,
To be the cream of the crop
Stay up never drop.

Rough, smooth, up and down
I see myself, smile not frown
At the peak and brim.

©2017
Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Kissing frogs

I still search, for sparks and plugs
Running from, the tramps and prog
Sailing towards a fleet of slug;

But the sea, wants golds to snug
Spring to spring; in a farm of trug
Even the sprug; still gets it wrong.

That is why; my chest needs hug
But, their bodies turn me to mug
Inside which; is a holy pug.

Holy temple, turn to thug
Lost in sin, it makes me a tug
Now I am; heavy pack of lug,

I still search all through the fug
Broken and healed by the shrug
Till I am fit, like butchers dog,

Not for bones; but rose, I dug
On my tongue, yet they came as glug
Sweet and sour, with so many chugs.

I hid heart inside a vug
Preventing it from light and songs
Bees in skirts, and dampen logs

Wait a while to make it long
Maybe to kill these growing bugs
Perhaps pluck almogs with jug.

Or to end these cold and fogs
What I search for; is just a drug
Sweet mistake in kissing frogs.

© Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com

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My mother knew

Verse I

I am a child
My mother held
My siblings hand

She did not sleep
When we were sick
She snake her lips

Till we were heal
On her soft ribs
Our heads we rest

She gave safe sighs
Guiding the trips
Of our eclipse.

Verse II

The homes we went
She bats an eye
We dare not eat,

From plates or flakes
Nor cakes they baked
Her gaze pushed brakes…

It had these stop
Hey, close your trap
Or open the wrap…

Hot ice disrupt
My mind corrupt
At staring shop.

Verse III

In silent nopessssss
My blathered hopes
Made the hills slope

To places of yes
Until or else
She tasted the sauce.

The frown I drew
The tricks I threw
To all my clues

For tasty stew
My mother knew
The old and new.

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