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Thanks to all philanthropists
A special thank you to all philanthropists
From east to west and north to south;
Up the sky; freely the littlest of birds fly
In such sweet serenity before the eyes
We envied their liberty and less worries
Until we became the characters in such stories.
At different stages, challenges comes in different forms
What we make of it matters, as either sadness or fun,
You see these tears, it falls from every eyes
But honestly, if the rich also cry
For the poor, what is there to live for?
A question we asked several times before.
Then our ghetto dirty lives were a truck load of pain
And death a tranquilizer, our wretched breath gain
Even in urban, death is a debt breath pays afterwards
Hence, the street we chose to suffering in this world
On a platter of gold, by you we were served and saved
We owe you our lives and everything we have.
Growing up, we thought of you as some kind of god,
And a creator, redesigning the whole wide world
Eradicating hunger, pains, sorrows, poverty
Sufferings and all forms of deformities.
If only this crazy world had more of you
Sufferings would have been a term we had no clue…
It was right at the junction of lost hope,
Where we had chosen an elevated floor and a rope
And just after tearily reciting our last prayer
Out of the blues came your pull by our shoulders,
From the rose flowers, you pulled out the thorns
Giving us a million more reasons to carry on.
©2021 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu
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Hazel’s Diary: Happy 1year old
The alleviated pains from cradle to this very day
Has been a bundle of joy, a perfect gift I must say
How fast the hand of time flew, nursing you my Hazel…
This life is indeed no bed of roses, but I promise
To give you everything desire to make you a bliss
Oh!! there goes my ever smiling child, scattering her cake….
In you I see a vine of sweet scenting beautiful flower’s blossom
So watering you, my adorable first fruit, is always awesome
But while on it, I must say, Happy birthday to you, Hazel.
Everything you touch shall indeed turn to gold
You are blessed, success shall locate you in multiple folds
All doors to greatest shall be open for your sake….
Staring at your beauty and bedazzled by your intelligence
They both say, the Angel you are is no coincidence
So grow up, make us proud, happy birthday to you Hazel.
©2021 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu
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Hazel’s Diary: An Infant hobby
I don’t care
If she picked my growing shoes
Or her mother’s soft healing hands
As long as she is just my happy girl.
I don’t care
If she picked from either sides
Maternal or paternal light
So long she is the best in what she does.
I don’t care
I watch her smile sheepishly,
Humming to songs from the stereo
As if she knows the lyrics to the songs…
I don’t care
About the beats or musician
How did an infant love music
And happens to just love to dance as well.
©2021 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu
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Hazel’s Diary: Don’t be scared of the dark
You are our muse, the splendid joy we bear
Caught up in our lives, the love is crystal clear
Before now, to you darkness was never frightening
Neither did you wake up crying over nothing.
Where did you learn to be this scared
I have a message for you… Dear Hazel,
“…If shadows spread tall and wide over at night
It doesn’t mean that it will forever remain like that
Darkest hour is always before the dawn
A spring eternal is how your hope should be drawn
Walk up to us from your room to the parlour
We are your knights in shinning armors
The adage, “Light at the end of the tunnel” is true
And it all begins deep down from you
Laugh and the world would laugh with you
Cry not my dear, all that we got is you.
©2021 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu
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Don’t close those eyes
Soon you will be off an infant cloth
And may encounter storms, dust and rust
Some achievements may seem a mirage
Unachievable until success emerge
Some days stale may be crystal clear
And the heart would harbor a million fear
Dear, just like the cows are sometimes farrow
Tomorrow comes with its own sorrows
And joy, though showing forth its negative signs
Cry whenever the sun refuse to shine
But never you loss hope in things you do
The adage, “Light at the end of the tunnel” is true
Darkest hour is always before the dawn
It springs eternal and hits a home run
The suspense it showers deep into life
Doesn’t mean you should forever shut those eyes.
©2021 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu
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Blurt out
Let the pages fly and spread their wings
Let my spilled inks make millions to think
It is plain and simple, hope it sinks
“All man has his fault”, the song I sing…
Some make angels to cry a river
Wrecking the cake not worth the candle,
I have made words fly off the handle
Like bullets from a trigger finger.
I have made unspeakable remarks
Awful, but to some I am proud of
Like daring heads and shoulders above
To stop picking paper over cracks…
On a wrong foot I might have stood firm
I am sorry it was all my fault
In life, there are few things I regret
But not the words blurted out in poems.
©2021 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu
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Resolving love conflict
Simple or made into an Elf
What is music to a born deaf?
Same question goes without tongues
Pot or Chef, who spoilt the stock?
What are perfumes without nostrils
Even when fragrance grow on trees
The soft wool would be seen as steel
If all senses had no way to feel.
Like bakers bake flours into cakes
Water seeds, love is give and take
With all of you, you should both love
Not one-sided, with push and shove
Pay concern to passion and needs
Dancing together to your hymns
Storms and rainbows demystified
Harmonise hearts, love is blind.
©2021 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu
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The masses are also the problem
It is no news that the pigs are fat
As a result of the embezzlements
Taking politics as a personal farm
Eating from the labors of the ants…
I haven’t crossed the shores for sure
But I will place a bet, that wouldn’t fret
Or retract, having seen Eagles crawl
Passing piggery genes unto eaglets.
Accustomed to suffering and smiling
Whereas they hold the key to end the pains
Instead, they chose, fixing and buying
Assets for pigs to whom bills and taxes are paid.
©2021 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu
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Let’s not go back to 2020
There was blood between two greens,
After the peace and unity disagreed
The young bloods came out singing
With purpose as they were marching.
The birds hummed promises to fix the error
Yet they changed the name “error” to “terror”
Was it that, the protest had no direction?
Or was it just another, pull them down syndrome?
Answers came from centres that began to tear
Forming thick black fumes in the air
As properties and structures were set ablaze
Insane it was, seeing anyone truly amazed.
Many young bloods came out stretching their claws
In a once peaceful protest turned to war…
Lost was the hope that was left
After the trained turtles sprayed bullets.
Indeed tempos arose, in all directions
The birds announced there would be sanctions
But the rage of terror never ceased
Into the streets, more turtles were lunched
To calm things down, and maybe to shoot again…
In all, the greens and white were in pains
Seeing their characters loss global integrity
As the pawns were out absolutely in disunity
Those who had, and had nothing to lose brought knives
And most behaved like they had nine lives
Beheaded, but survived the many lies
From the birds, who sang, “no pawn ever died”
Politicians are all the same over the world
But for humanity we ought to build great walls
With peace and progress, yet we take a wrong path
Whereas just two Kings in chessboard is a still mate.
©2021 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu
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In the hands of the pigs
Down the streets, I see fierce men in blacks
Throwing punches and spraying bullets back
On both the dead guilty and the innocent
From such grief no man becomes a saint…
Down the streets, I pass everyday
There are a lot my eyes see and lips can’t say
If I were to write, I will run out of pages
It has been on since the rock of ages…
I see torn rags, I see fat pigs, I see hawks
I see ugly vultures perking clean rotten foods
I see little ants queueing for shrunken and fat pigs
Though most times the results are rigged…
At the other end where the grasses are green
I see different faces but the same within
For as they wear the authority band
The little ants and gullible expect a hand
A helping hand, but the route to end injustice,
Alongside corruption and malpractice
Causing sufferings to large extent
And institutionalized Government,
Making every under the roof look so dumb
As well as embezzlements in all forms,
Are the same routes fat pigs themselves pass
On a regularly on their way flying first class.
