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Maidens of old time (2)

The old time maidens drove a hard bargain
Their smiles were contagious as their own names
Wooing and getting them were men’s main aim,

Bright-eyed, brushy-tailed many men were bent
Traveling the world to get her some wealth
Praying she accepts values he shall get.

But these days, many sample nakedness
On social medias, ask and you shall get,
Her privacy she flaunts outside her nest.

Stealing of hearts, has been demystified
Give her purse, she’s a digger of gold
Unlike the sweet virtuous maidens of old.

©2019 http://vinzpoetry.WordPress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Spinster Juice

I envision every lady
Ripe for marriage as a juice;
And as it stands, just as juice
You are; “a sweetness of ritzy”.

I know you are white as snow;
An immaculate untouched forest,
But, endeavor to listen and respect
The romance your toasters show.

Not saying, your legs should spread wide
On a clock, of the nine and three
For men to pluck fruits from a tree
But, just be flexible to rules and bend…

Listen to the sweet sound of love
Feel the breeze in your window
Get your heart a loving pillow
And the spitfire, let it dissolve…

Not all wedges are stumbling blocks
Let love lead you to the glitters
Or you be praying on the altars
For love to come out off the lock.

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


Take it all back
Right from Adam

In the garden;
He was bored

Out of his ribs,
Was she formed

Flesh of his flesh
Bone thereof

To support him,

If it were not,

And necessary

Genders would be

©2018 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu


The clock tick, the handle of time moved
There was a bell pull
The bell jiggled causing lots of distractions
The bell ringer let go the rope
What a belly laugh
Pulling down his belladonna
The belle drove him and several others bellicose
With belligerence unbelievable,
As others; he still confirmed himself belligerent
As she bellows, he wore back his belladonna
Far more than the diamonds
Her astonishment confirmed; Go get her!
Their conscience forced
She is the lad’s bellwether
Her toasters are unaccounted flocks
There most be something done to stop the hand of time
Truly she does not know the real lover amongst them.

written by Onyeche Vincent Onyeka

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