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Tone: Match Box Paradox

Love’s a pack
Of varying sizes
While lust is bias
Hoaxes are lies.

I have found mine
A dry matchbox
With sticks that strikes
Love paradox;

Now I know more
Sitting than stand
That love is blind

Not all white birds
Are peaceful doves
Not all hands fit
A precious glove

Not all waters
Deserves a fetch
I pray you find
Your perfect match

Euphoric box
An arm of trust
With sticks that strikes
The brightest light.

©2018 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

The small fights

Let the push
Not turn to shove

If it does,
Please hide the glove

Even air
Sometimes collide

See small fights
As sun that hides

For awhile
Darkness may last

Let the night
Not be our light.

©2018 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Headlong Flings

Riding on roads
Climbing tall mountains
Swimming waters
To find a fountain

Not for riches
Or sweet plantains
On reckless trees
Of headlong flings

Back in times
When purity was pride
“Keep your virginity …”
Mother once said.

Control your drive
As maturity climbs
If you are in love,
Honeymoon is nice

“Premarital sex
Is far more common
Than it was
In the olds”; says Mom.

©2018 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

The Lioness

Weird she says, he is childish
When she is younger than him
Not all rhymes are termed as hymns
Her nag is found, when he search
Outside their relationship;
For more bones and flesh that bleach.

Protecting her precious home
Family should never tear
By a skirt and lack of care
Like the walls she has her ears
She boils, she fume, and she flares
Roaring loud to tear down tombs.

©2018 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Bachelor’s Boomerang

Back when dating as a teen
It was all for beds and sweats
If she goes it still taste sweet
There ain’t nothing ever lost.

Till clock ticks faster than jets
Many perfumes and many regrets
He has a ring but a broken finger
Medley of voices in hush he lingers.

Looking at the broken mirrors
By the frames of his king size bed
Heated up yet folding in colds
Who says loneliness ain’t harsh and raw

Crying louder than ten packs of wolves
Praying just one comes as a dove
Enough of the gold digging romance
Fading away, when the tides are high.

No more nonsenses, no more pretends
All the good girls have high demands
Not a lover, just a friend sitting on a fence
And he ain’t cut out for such nonsense

Saturdays somewhere, two lovebirds fly to church
Another best man, another suit to flush
Making a toast, with beautiful words
Mumbling; ‘ enough of this bachelor’s boomerang ‘.

©2018 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Image source: Google

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