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Letter to a King and Kingdom

Verse I

The gods are wise; they say
Purple blood is a name,
Running in thrones; not nays…
It is always fatal
When a bloody mortal
Challenges immortals…

Today, moral values
And ethics are fallen
To an unspeakable
Point where folks drag their King
To the mud, and still sting
Threatening to cut his wings.


Native fly: Ika and u’juju

You may deploy
Forensic technics
Than I can imagine..

But I can tell
With just a tree
Folks from my tribe
“Ika” or related to us.

Veronica comforter
Botanist call it
But we call it
By the name; U’juju.

In family compounds
I look up the sky
Then down to leaf
Searching for it

Wherever I find it
I just know that
The occupants
Must be from my tribe.

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

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

Native fly: Not Igbo

When they want to make you look like a trash
They call you, by a name not on the map…
One day, I shall join my great ancestors
Whose souls lives on, from my head to my crus.

But for now, I am a part of this land
And I owe a great debt to dust and sand
In case you are not aware of my tribe
And who I am; dear, I can be your scribe.

I am from a land of many great Kings
That breath and have leaved with honors they bring
Located down the south of Nigeria
Surrounded by kingdoms, with known borders.

I am from a great land, that replicates
Good genes of wealth, riches and sound greatness
If you doubt, please take out time, check the facts,
Our indigenes are great resourceful giants.

When addressing me, use not Delta Igbo
I take bride in my tribe, Ika – Agbor
For it is a shame, when you do not know
Where you are coming or going forth to.

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

Knocking on the door (Iku eka’ozo)

The time
When parents
Is gone…

The time
To knock door
By self
For love
Is come

Ku’ eka. (knock hands)
Ozo… (door)
If you
So truly
Love her!

Of Agbor
Will say:
So we
Are here

We came
For a charm
A Rose
Whose scents
We drink..

En’yi (we)
Racho onyen (came finding someone)
Si’kode (that will)
Bu’ye (give)
Enyi nni. (us food)

These sweet words
The wide
Long door
Is opened

Sweet maidens
Starts to
Take turns

In wrappers
From heads
To toes
Come out

We look
We pick
The one
We chose.

©2018 vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Agbor: Eletu and a deer

In this land are the sands
Father’s hand, robbed as a kid.

Veins connect, Orogodo chest
As straight as the crow flies,

Youngest ever, sat on a thrown
Far before plebs had a phone

Before tides he was pride of homes,
Till his hides, turned white foams…

Black tongues and spirits bleach
Return home, his plebs preach

Orogodo River now a Vail
As the palace looses its file,

Right in the midst of it all
Several Hawks gathers tall

With babbles here and there
But the bush Eletu and a deer

Both crying out, hey my dear
Someday it shall be well…

©2017 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
– Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Inspired by Bar. J. Ifesemen

River Orogodo

Take me to Africa
I am a black Sun
With a white shadow
In the depth hollow
By fingers of God.

I have been swimming
Waters made too pure;
Not of suits and ties
Nor synthetic foods
But beads and wrappers.

Please take me back home
To delicacy sold
Traditional leaf fold
I am old and cold
So fetch cold water
From the calabash.

Be scared not of me
In my raw lion hide
Across shoulders crown
Youngest king ever
On a golden throne.

Take me to that land…!!
Where rabbits run fast
From holes and the smoke;
While I bath myself
In River Orogodo.

©2017 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Ebonka (Part2)


Son of the soil, the tradition’s dabble
A type never found when lost again
Yet a next-door neighbour love not pain
Like cockroaches, he squeezes through cracks
Fighting tirelessly like the teeth and nails
With all nerves ruthless like a lion in labor…
Writing history with tears from the children of Agan
The faith in the path he begun
Bonded the great Ika Kingdom…
Benedito Dei knew what he saw in him
All from Timbuctu was his poetic Justice
Ebonka returned braver telling Dei stories and his
The difficult in Dei, “Dein”: Ebonka was renamed
The plebs found a king in him, Dein was famed
From the lions heart, his every first sons rules.

Ebonka (part1)


Have you ever heard of the name Ebonka
The local boy engraved in the flag of Ika
A child, Agan the childless can only conceive
Like a water hyacinth, call him “Irenmiren”
He is not just an everyday man, he is the men!..
Ebonka is to it, what a sword is to an armor
Not talking about a steel nor the Sweden Bor
But the South of the Niger, a town with a flavor
Boldness and bravery brings success that isn’t a favor
With a Lion’s heart he journeyed away from Agbor.

Native Fly: Agbor

A land that fits a taste
A path that ascent the road
To an origin of Onye Agbor’s old

A search of a sound
That gets the stomach fold
Drums harder in the Dein’s Palace.

Down the streets
Ye rigwo?
They keep asking and giving
Yet they never lack

There is more to ‘Agbon’
Than a ‘Bini’ word
Orogodo a river for fishes
Hands to hoes, Onye Agbor never rest.

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