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Unrest soul: finding a church

Is it just me?
I have a thing
For past memoir

When I was small
The Sunday church
Was spiritual

I strolled to church
I had this touch
And sense of thrust

Body and soul
Rising to words
The preachers preach

But not anymore
I am all torn
In skeptics pools

As I grew up
I am afloat
In my own faith

Empty to faults
Finding a church
With that feelings

I felt, in time
Backwards I was
A boy, back then

But I am lost
In my own thoughts
Finding a church.

©2018 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Somonka: Tender crush

The puppies sky gaze
At the stars while it twinkles
All we had as kids
Was a shadow of the sun
Crawling out onto the ices.

Moon looms in your eyes
No one know you like I do
We walk down those streets
Talking about beauty and beast
Laughing out favorite lines

From a childish brain
And matured wires in our veins
Our hearts raced to taste
A drop of rain on our face
Jamming heads, we never kissed

In view of the rush
In fog we played hide and seek;
Then we fell on rocks
But the dew was all we trust,
Though no tears, we almost cried

Then we cheered ourselves;
Touch you last, we often scream
Until crop of cream
When it turned long time no see,
You were, sweetness of my tea.

Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Prologue: Watching her bath

Watching her bath,
I remembered
The innocence,
Of our childhood.

We used to create
Games by hand
With no pretense
Fun was all we had.

Watching her bath
I read her mind,
Wipping out stains
From curves and shape.

On my memory slate,
She is one of a kind,
From unique strains;
A unicorn to gape.

Prologue : Nostalgia

I once had a painting
Giga-shades of adoring;
In a familiar surrounding…
Scrawling and crawling,

It was an hallmark glory
Of my sweet untold story;
In the years, I owned a lorry…
She was devil cute, but holy.

My crayons couldn’t surpass,
Her beauty wasn’t in disguise;
In the bittersweet of my past…
She was an art, a lady of class.

Sweet pretty face, with lashes,
Dark hairs, black to thickness;
In absence, was homesickness…
All boys longed for her fineness.

She is a diva, none can harass,
Well configured as a classic lass;
Innocent child, a righteous pass
She was like a visible colorless gas.

An uncommon beauty in class
Her fineness breaths new life
In nostalgia, she had hot sparks
That unfroze my ice-cold heart.

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