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Tag Archives: Africa

Native fly: Grandma’s Pot

Oh what more do I crave
Than a delicious soup,
Awakening my kindred spirit.

Any time, I see or taste
An u’juju soup made
From veronica comforter

It always takes me
Back in time; remembering
My grandmother’s pot.

©2018 http://Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Sonnet: Seasons in African

Over here we don’t say winter
Or make use of the word; summer

You might have springs and autumn
But we both fancy flowers on tomb.

We can tell, the type of season
From rays, when the sky is crimson.

Down south it pours as it rains for sure
Meaning the Sun shield its sword.

As soon as the rainy season stops
The soil dries up, and so do crops…

Seasons change, nectars for bees
We don’t feel the scorch you see;

From Sahara, Harmattan wind blows.
While you celebrate Christmas in snows.

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

Blessings of Melanin

Why are you sad
Why are you low
When you are blessed
With the gift of life…

The Sun scorch bad
The light shines bright
There are good sides
Tailed to Africa…

Melanin rush
Makes us lovely
Months do pass by
Many pray; night and day

That the Sun shines;
The winter we envy
Tagging the cloud
Thus far, has its curses.

©2018 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

African Tamarind

When I look into what everyone sees
I see a city, they call an ever green
A city that was built by Robin Hood
Stealing and giving to a yellow wood

Hiding the existence of an African plum
Telling me my soil breeds only worms
Cursing Nature by playing the master
Who cracked shells for seeds to foster

Sprouting out seeds called my brothers
Related by blood but not by sisters
Rome wasn’t built in a day, please save
The story hey you diaspora modern slaves

Until you deep your feet in your own shoe
You will not realize who is really fooled
Even Apples fall not far from its trees
As a citizen, you are liberal but far from free…

The second largest continent yet an ant
In the sight of others who aren’t stagnant
Even Angels can’t keep loving a child
Who sour the sweetness deep inside…

Each time I see a tamarind plum
I always critic the African poems
Not as a racist but deep in here
I speak in pains, hoping we hear clear.

©2018 http://Vinzpoetry.WordPress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Hell of a place…

This was once the floor I laid
Whom I craved and so adored…

One I was hundred percent sure
Until it mixed my baking flour

With beautiful ashes and dust
Covering gun powder and rust.

Hence, I am a running fly
Running from sorrows and lies

Pouring down like southern rain
Served as cakes, to wash my brain

On and by the floor, where I lie
Is a place I never wish to die.

©2018 http://Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Our spirits called Africa

We are more than thick short hairs
We are proudly Africans…
Ashamed, not of our colour
For it is our greatest honor.

Connected by the root of trees
Covalently united by our spirits
We are bonds that never dissolve
While aiming at an indefinite limit.

Demonstrating with lots of love
Dancing to the rhythm in our sound
Our spirit would definitely be lost,
If we weren’t an African child.

©2018 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
-Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu
For UBA poetry challenge #Africaday
#UBA #Africaday2018 #ProudlyAfrica #Poetry #UBA #UnitedbankforAfrica #Vinzpoetry
I hope I win this challenge.


The difference between low and high
Shall keep increasing if we remain blind
I will say it a thousand times
Indexes do not care about you and I

Posthumous shall flood in the day we die
For now, everyone is too busy to say hi
It is just you and I, like wounds and fly
In a paradise surrounded by so many lies

Do not listen to the old hoaxes’ lines
Buttressed by the tears of a crocodile
They are the ones who traded with our birthrights
Removing the pupils from our pretty eyes

Now we are left with retina that traps no light
Indirectly making us the beggars to passersby
That only comes when they want us to buy
Our freedom and joy that they never grant

Each day and night underneath the sky
As we roll on a thin tiny breaking ice
Remember that the difference between low and high
Shall keep increasing if we remain blind.

©2018 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

The Nigerian Dream

Title: The Nigeria Dream

Africa has killed her sun
Her flag has been torn
I pray for child unborn
And those who take turns
Rapping her page by page.

Let’s grab bulls by their horns
And put aside tribal marks
To elect a true Nigerian born
To restore our heritage
And revive our drying lakes.

For until a man of valor
No gimmicks, no gender
But with an agenda
Speaking one language
Across time and age

Irrespective of religion
And ethnicity background
Graces the helm of affairs
Our white and green shall shine
To the point of bedazzling sight

And faces shall wear a smile
As bright as the yellow sun
Onto Africa and the world…
But until that blessed day
I keep my fingers crossed.

©2018 vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Nigeria: Broken English

The guitar strings
The drum and stick
All have their voices
In unifying sounds.

When strings and sticks
Are then broken
On the wrong notes
Of speech and cords

Everyman shall sense
Like a mix of
The hot and cold

Not to indict
And your tongue
As a coal man…

The British folks
Talk in their tones
We are all white
At least inside

Makes your tongue twist
So identify
Your mother’s path

If you stay green
The soil will grin
Let all folks bear
His own surname

So why not stand
On your barefoot,
Speaking truth in
Whatever you preach

I have my genes
Rooted in the soul
Of soil, speaking
Broken English

©2018 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu
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