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Last night’s flame

So high and loud were the screams
At the point of confusion
Many would wish the tension
Was another scary dream.

None cared about documents
The snails became good runners
The chubbies flew like feathers
Choosing breath over wealth.

Dead were the words, wait or freeze
No one cared about naked breasts
Nor for the other ragged dress;
Some forgot their tender kids.

It was dark, though not past ten
At large, no shoes and no socks
So did those with age of rocks
The sick borrowed extra legs.

Gate was slammed with great intense
Multitudes flee from Estate
Leaving the block to its fate
No remorse, and no conscience.

A potential disaster
More than the Devil can chew
Over the roof the fire grew
Even the kids were sprinters

Who wouldn’t run when co-tenant
Whose roof feared to be burning
Were seen halter-scattering
To anywhere but not their tent.

From the point eyes made a frame
No hero nor firefighters
No sands, nor extinguishers
Could put off such thick dark flame.

The overwhelming stampede
Was more like defeat concede
And you wouldn’t comprehend
The things running in our heads.

It wasn’t our blocks on fire,
To send fire in particles
From our harbors and vessels
Aided by winds, fuel and tires.

Approaching the burning flame
Were only a few of us
Whose bravery I didn’t trust
We discovered in our shame….

That accross the estate’s fence
A tall tree, and not the roof
Was on fire, putting it off,
We laughed; but it was intense.

(c) 2021 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

You are not Angel Michael

You are not
God or Michael
The War Angel
Respect tradition

Kola nuts served
Must be waged with funds
Palm wine in keg
Is specially served.

For every black
Dwelling on this land
You must have heard
Of covens and shrines

Simple advice
On supernaturalism
You may believe
Stories, you wish to

But don’t dare
The fallen angels
Nor try to chase
The Devil from hell

Run from trouble
Do not be the fool
That rush in where
Angels fear to tread.

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

Terrified by the bushbaby’s cry

I could hear the cries
Whose baby is it?
I bet you, the tears
Dropping can fill pits.
In an awkward state
Could it be witches
I reached for my faith…
Praying it all cease
My heart became ice
Froze by many please.

I could hear the cries
Could it be a child
I just could not see..
In darkest of nights
Under the lime tree
Superstitions say
It kills who it sees
In I had to stay
I chose not to be
The brave knight, tonight.

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

King of beast

Life as a stage, begins empty…
Gradually wisdom then comes with age;
Sage and brave are on different pages.

In challenges, right on the face,
Cowards are known by the traces of fear
Wrecking and then repressing courage.

Like lions, show no fear on your face
Or else you will be in the circus
Mutely roaring loud inside a cage.

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