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Old television statics

I know before the box got vision
Arena had their own attraction

In my case, we had the village square
Years ago way before I inhaled air.

But I remember, when I was young
Although it isn’t rock age so long

Well, not every home had TV set
The black and white picture was the best,

Each time the signal thus disappears
The white and black random dots appear

Hurting an anticipated lens
Its sounds amplified the night silence

I can not forget in a hurry
It was like snow and garri falling.

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

Sonnet: Revisiting Gifts

While I am overwhelmed by these gifts
Coming from past, sweet words and texts
During Christmas and my birthdays
Surprises that came with ribbons
Pockets filled with fat envelopes
And buckets of consumables
I am grateful for those moments.

All these stickers on souvenirs
Gotten from events in the past
Brings a flashback with some teardrops
Though I do not anticipate
Being here forever on earth
I revisit, for I can not forget
Sweet memories I find in gifts.

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

Moving Past

Holes by the corner
Lessons and teachers
Band and a sealer
Bridge and a pillar
Built by a healer

Like force and actions
To all with functions
Use as it fashions
Past is a mansion
Just by a junction.

Travellers are dear
And are welcome there
To recline and cheer
To correct and share
Not to reside there.

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

The tar past

There is no such
Color called white
In the purity of hearts.

But if your past is dark as tar
Worry not; take yourself far,
From issues and times

Rest your head in peace
And let your spirit freely
Find settlement

For every today
There is a yesterday
In the past that past

Tomorrow is heavily
Pregnant and vast
Everybody has a past.

©2018 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Old dream

The globe gets
Smaller as
Time thus flies…

The mountains
That were high
Shrinks in eyes

The River
Still remains
Deep as ever

Avant garde
Are worsen
Day by day…

Lovers of
The old meals
The old clothes

The old songs
Tradition
We embrace

As we age,
On life’s stage…
Our eyes close

Our dream shows,
Sweet memoir,
Of our past

With honor
One color,
Black and white

Agility
Gradually
Starts to drop.

But fulfilled
Low or hills
The old dream

All the faces
We have seen
Starts to pop.

©2018 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

We are

We give the jingles to a bell
We turn silence into a yell.

We are the elements of a cell
We are emulsion, we are the gell.

We are the substances that we sell
We are the shallow and deep water well.

We are for heaven, we are for hell
We are the stories that we tell.

We are skeptical, arrogantly we ignore,
That we are all same steel, iron and ore.

We are the lies and the truth we blink
We are the stories that always leak.

We are the ink of our past, peak and link
Connecting in tandem from pipes to sink

We are our frowns, smiles and wink
We are our struggles, sorrows and meek

We are the stories told, slow and quick
On a script, we are breathe and things we think.

Author : Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Frame

There is this frame
Draining my big brains
With lots of claims
And proclaiming shame.

It has a school
And images that plough
Through; many colors
Dyed on the bedspreads;

And wet pillows
Dripping dark shadows,
Not ugly, not fine
Wishing to undo time.

Forgetting The Past

I woke up last night
Unto an unending dark light
My dreams were bright and alright
In ambitions postponed every fortnight.

I felt strong but weak as a nonsense plight!
My burg eyes had a very tight sight
I couldn’t see but struggled with it like a gunfight
Slowly it opened, yes to my delight

I saw nothing but a heavy looking lightweight
Other than what my sight… could write
Inside my dark shadow was a misery flight
Is it I or myself I should fight in my past?

Indeed these are though times in a twilight
Struggled to get to the door for I might
Slam it against my past and wake in greater height
For there is nothing to fight against a shadow light.

Remember Yesterday

Remember before now
A place you’ve been and seen
Never forget yesterday
It’s a noun; though no more

Leather exposed like a naked wire
Lovely shyness couldn’t get a hold on you
Light ran freely as though space empty
Little did you know the word ‘pride?’

Like a feathered peacock
Loving every color
Linking affection to breath
Lungs you gradually made to fail

Remember you were never shy
Anytime they stumble upon you
Never forget yesterday
It’s a noun; though you now classic.

©2012: https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Written By ONYECHE VINCENT ONYEKA

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