e-Paper Poetry of Vinx

Home » Posts tagged 'Mother'

Tag Archives: Mother

Spoonful

Just like the cream,
In coffee and teas,
Rises to the top,
In the glass cup…

It is conspicuous
I got a rather die
Hovering around
And over my head.

Do not get it twisted
Behind the dark clouds
The sky is always blue
When they come through…

Like a mother hen
And a mountain gorilla
Underneath the sky
Rivers never runs dry,

Whether bedazzled or not,
It is never by chance
They prepared the ground,
Grounds on which I stand.

At times I wonder,
Why I am so blessed…
I will never bend a lip
For if I were to worship

Any mortal being,
My amazing parents
Would be whom I
Would always lift high…

Don’t get it twisted
I believe in God
And I am grateful
For a heaped spoonful.

©2020 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

The fleshes and bones of mothers

The crazy wild thoughts of a young girl
Would paint her to grey as hot as hell
Till dawn birth new phase called motherhood
Mentality clinch unlikelihood
Of returning back to as it were
Before the balloon was blown to swell

Respect mothers both in light and dark
Try to feel scars and web of stretch marks,
Rags she wears for her kids to look nice
Blooming, embarking on trips called life
Hold her scalp and extra fats she gained
Then you will understand abysmal pain.

©2020 http://vinzpoetry.WordPress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Born of rape

I am a cell
That often sail
From abortions
And its portions
You were the maid
Ripped into shreds
Triggered I swarm
Away from shams

But your ovary
Just couldn’t free
A frightened cell
Running from hell
After a month
Doctors report
Confirmed you were
Pregnant; I feared

And since you had
No one to hold
Responsible;
Like most people
Abort and move
I thought you would
But you stood up
Strong like a rock

You carried me
A growing hill
And I wondered
Deep down under
How you managed
With all those rage
To keep me warm
Inside your womb.

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

Father and daughter dance

Hey! dear daughter
You changed my life
The day you came.
I kissed you first
Even in womb
Sad, you can’t
Remember that.

Butterfly kiss
Had left the mark;
“I love you first”
Before you spoke
I watched you crawl,
Staggering while
You walked and ran.

Oh…! how time flies
Watching you grow
Into today
Along the aisle
For another man
Guess another son;
Daughter’s father..

So beautiful
Every girl wish
For such a bliss
Another man
Come grabbing you;
You have grown up
So fast, my child

Underneath my nose
Let’s dance dear
For, I saw you
Little, my girl
Do not blame me…
You will do, the-
-Same to your kids.

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

Supermom

I have a mother like no other
She is the greatest thing since sliced bread
Just believe me and do not bother
To hide creepy acts from my mother.

Yes, my amazing dad may see faster
But my mother would look deeper
In between every lines she shall read
Spotting errors that makes us wonder.

A bag of breathe and flowing blood but a drone
Every day she multitask, just to care for the home
She shreds herself like a soap and its foam
Cooking, feeding for us, even while on phone.

What will the kids eat next, in her head questions roam
She is a supermom, in all coners of our home
Making her children sit on throne
As a man among men, now and when they are grown.

©2018 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

My fathers wife

My body on her; I grabbed
She must have made me smiled
And poured buckets of kisses
Onto my soft, small baby lips
How was your first kiss in life?

Right now I wish I could
Take back the arms of time
And lay on my mothers arm
As bambino in farm and room
Smiling at my fathers wife.

Chuckling and giggling with meek
Kicking empty air with my legs
Looking deeply into her eyes
Falling asleep beside her milk
Enjoying the new breath of life…

While releasing poop and pee
On my fat baby padded pants
Less worried about heartbreaks
While I enjoy the sweet warmth
In the cockles of my fathers wife.

©2017 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Mothers deed

I don’t know how you were born
But I have someone a unicorn
She will skillfully wrap me up
With her loving wrappers on top.

I don’t know what your mum did
But mine, her tongue was my bib
When I ate, it was her good deed
That saw me through every hot meal.

©2017 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu
image source: Harinzey Art

My mother knew

Verse I

I am a child
My mother held
My siblings hand

She did not sleep
When we were sick
She snake her lips

Till we were heal
On her soft ribs
Our heads we rest

She gave safe sighs
Guiding the trips
Of our eclipse.

Verse II

The homes we went
She bats an eye
We dare not eat,

From plates or flakes
Nor cakes they baked
Her gaze pushed brakes…

It had these stop
Hey, close your trap
Or open the wrap…

Hot ice disrupt
My mind corrupt
At staring shop.

Verse III

In silent nopessssss
My blathered hopes
Made the hills slope

To places of yes
Until or else
She tasted the sauce.

The frown I drew
The tricks I threw
To all my clues

For tasty stew
My mother knew
The old and new.

My Parents love

By: Onyeche Vincent Onyekachuku
Title: My Parent Love
Dedicated to : Mr. and Mrs. Larry Onyeche

The love of my parents never elide
They brought me to life, that aside,
In the nide, my needs they provide,
Day and night, they are my aide.

Besides sharing their nucleotide
They planted me by the waterside
To grow taller than all of my kind
Relentlessly, they gave me a yuletide.

They always guide me when I ride,
So I never snide, glide and slide.
Their rules, I often don’t abide
Yet they always stick by my side.

When ruby little me was red outside,
They solve my worries as their pride
They go as far hell, inhaling oxide
Just to give me cream and juice inside.

They are attached to me like an imide,
Holding me tight, they never let me vide.
They protect me, sailing in trouble tide
They are my boldness, they never hide.

Motherhood

Poetry is in all and sundry
From the moment of entry
Into eggs, bumps and wombs
Till placenta is discarded by midwives.

Round the clock, on a mother’s hand,
Is an innocent looking child
Crying,  so sad like the world
Is about to come to an end.

She pets and worries all night,
She stretches her breast out
Then the child drinks and rest
On her heavenly milky chest…

She bathes and clothes her pretty child,
She is a designer, nurse, therapist, 
And teacher, teaching the toddlers
How to talk, crawl and run.

Dusty flu comes and grabs her child
Using her sweet lovely honey mouth
She sucks and sniffs the catarrh out
From the nose of her innocent child.

Under her shadows, her child gets shaded
When hiding from the hot burning rays..
The love of a mother for her child
Is an old story that never dies.

%d bloggers like this: