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Best outfit
Hope you know the best outfit when all
Is cold like a snow or extreme hot
Like the Sun is not pride nor coward?
There are times when the sky would fall down
And the ground would not be kind to hide
You from the shame, and the disaster…
There are times when nothing goes as planned
Yet the day wouldn’t end as a dream
Instead like sun, it heightens and rises.
And such times, ropes may come for the blue
Beside notes but somehow I wish you
Write poetry and change the whole story
Knowing that the tears are temporary
And suicide is no option at all
Drop the ropes, joy will come at the dawn.
©2020 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu
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Fighter
Are you glad to see my back
So that only you can advance
Are you glad to see my fall
So that you alone can fly high…
Are you envious of my shine
Sorry to break it down to you
Amazing how hard I fall
Someone like me never give up.
©2019 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu
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Shredding pistils
On a mirage, I go gazing
It seems am evanescing
Into shadows of myself
Playing sad songs of faulty clef
I heard you mock my empty belly
Not all flowers bloom that early
Night and day, both can not be on
At same time, hence they take turns
Keep your polishes to yourself
I have accepted I am the shelf
Which termites have so devoured
An also-ran, am not favored
But in all gains, there is a pain
And when I fail now and again
Let’s just say, my success delays
Fruits shall come out from my decay.
©2019 http://vinzpoetry.WordPress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu
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Today is the seed
Better a small egg today
Than a fat hen tomorrow
Come see the rotten seed
Once bone dried and decayed
With no snow chance in hell
Now better and sprouting.
Come see the rotten seed
No one ever wished well
With problems aid, hope aided;
Now the best look of things
Better a mouse in the pot
Than no fried chicken at all.
©2019 http://vinzpoetry.WordPress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu
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Poet’s Inspiration
There is a force in all motions
All glow has an inspiration
I know a Poet who was so good
He loved to express all he could
People loved him until one day
It seems deserts ate up the bay.
In pains he wrote but flames burnt it
In tears he wrote dryness washed it
In the shadow for many years;
His readers protested, others jeered
Demanding eggs from a dead hen
So he laid down stretching his pen
Right in front of an empty sheet
Of pains and tears in fears and doubts
But not until he had his breath
Taken away; well not by death
But at first sight, his feet got swept
Ignoring bounds doubts disappeared
A star was born with energy that
Made him to write poems once again.
