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Waiting for sunsets

The cock may crow
at the break of dawn
hopeful we are for,
tomorrow’s sun…

There are times I
think about leaving
and where I will be
lost in my sleep

On the thin ice
we are all waiting
like an employee,
for that we reap…

On our payroll
is the same caption:
saying; “when I call,
don’t be stunned“.

(C) 2021 http://vinzpoetry.Wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Patience of death

I am astound 
by its composure;
cool, calm and collected
it consumes treasures…

On a daily,
against it, I bet
slowly making hay
before the sunset

Hey! judge me not,
we all are gamblers
staking differently
hoping to gather!

You’ve guessed right,
in this game of card
we all want to win
and not say; “last card”

Gazing at our doors
frozen death must feel,
waiting like a dog
to tell an ordeal.

(C) 2021 http://vinzpoetry.Wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

On your sickbed

Wish I knew tricks
evading the demise
before it knocks,
it is you I will hide,
breaking shadows and scythe
right here on earth.

I wish I had
firsthand information
of He who baked
all breath, and the oceans
I would come proposing
on your behalf…

I wish I had
powers to control time,
I shall rewind
timelines right on my palm
solving your health issues
will be my aim…

I wish I had
power to heal the sick
and not just shed
tears, through the thin and thick
watching you go
grey there on a sickbed.

(C) 2021 http://vinzpoetry.Wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Indescribable

Outcomes of our fall,
Has an open door
Coming from a war
We may tag as life,
Fighting for our lives
Gaining dust for ranks.

Scythe or by broom
People still presume
We roam in their rooms
When we turn to ghosts
Whose breath cease to fit
While the maggots eat.

People think we see,
Walk and always feel
All they tag as real…
Could it be an end
Or a sort of bend
To a whole new blend?

Death breeds afterlife
We were once alive
To say otherwise
Now we are the myths
That are real or not
Until shadows exit…

On this battlefield
Life is short indeed
Silence is the shield
Separating lines
Yes, none can describe
What death may look like.

©2021 http://vinzpoetry.Wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Scythe of fate

Another day, another breath
Of not waking up in the depths
Sometimes I scream inside my tent
Waking up from the blanks of rest

Another day, another breath
Of not waking up in the depths
From the voids that cause me to shed
It all seems like I lose my head;

Another day, another breath
Of not waking up in the depths
Wondering what it would be like
In total void away from life…

Another day, another breath
Of not waking up in the depths
Within my faith there is despair
Lying next to my greatest fear

Another day, another breath
Of not waking up in the depths
Transparent yet still not clear
One day I would be missing here…

Another day, another breath
Of not waking up in the depths
Trees may fall, the leaves may dry
I heard that, the soul never dies

Another day, another breath
Of not waking up in the depths
Wondering if soul is a myth
Created to ease the scythe of fate.

(C) 2021 http://vinzpoetry.Wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Sameness



Dwelling on a large field
Amidst a buried seed
Sprouting into a tree
Then to levels of seas,

Change is a constant thing
The song the birds do sing
Eternity is faith
Reality is but vain…

All flesh exit the town
Even the rocks break down
Amidst the daily smiles
Are corresponding cries…

With many unsaid byes
Looking down from the skies;
Asking several why
I guess, the gods are wise…

More-so,in all of it
Time is so infinite
Yet it is short and bright
One minute there is light

Suddenly, it gets dark
Lying still on a plank
Sometimes wrapped in a mat
Bottled in jars as ash

Returning back to start
Repeating the same path
Yet we forget all that
Seeing others as ants.

(C) 2021 http://vinzpoetry.Wordpress.com Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Sold out by life

We fight to save threatened vultures
At same time, screaming, ‘save nature’
The next day, she wrecks havoc
Tearing down even papers and rocks.

(C) 2021 http://Vinzpoetry.Wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

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

Waking up till we ghost

Larvas may fly as butterflies
All moves they try are old in skies

Partying wile! come out in style
In a short while, we all will die.

On chopping boards we are capons
Life grabbed the horns, and toss a coin

Not all that churn, spread butter on
Like rhinos horns, unequal torn

Finger are not, same bolts and nuts
Nights batter hats, it hurts a lot.

Up comes the sun, we think we won
But we are born to take a turn

There is no cure to our failure
It is for sure, life is impure.

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