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Shredding Shield

I grew up reciting the motto of Nigeria
Unity and faith; peace and progress…
Now unity is threatened by our faiths and believes
While peace and progress have both gone to voicemail.

There was this pleasure I derived from drawing
Our Coat of Arm, encoding natural resources
By shading shield black to symbolize our rich soil
Which ought to be our blessings but now, our greatest curse.

There was this satisfaction I got inhaling fragrances
From the abundant flowers that symbolized our beauty
Damn, we are gorgeous! but those days are gone
Ever since the shield broke and flowers began to wither.

There was this confidence I had while growing up
I felt super secured in the pockets of two wings.
Please did you see the Eagle that stood for our strength?
Not these shredded weak feathers falling off from the top.

There was this pleasure I derived from staring
At our great Coat of Arm, I craved to ride on
The left and right horses that symbolized our
Pride and dignity but now, the craving is in the grave.

I grew up admiring the mark on the shield
Which symbolized two great flowing Rivers
That met at a centre, that once upon a time held
The great and mighty; Nigeria, until things fell apart.

©2019 http://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

Grace on me

In a deep noiseless dark
I did hear all they spoke
Effortlessly, then I woke;
Floating on a gracious flake.

Garri and salt, I used to soak
Hopelessly, until the break..
Behold, grace on me took
Me, into the flames of smoke.

In the air, mighty walls I crack
Breaking into the tall blue sky;
Flying like birds without a brake,
Grace on me is real not fake.

Relentlessly, for my humble sake
Success sacks fell on my arm to take
In the turbulent dark dead lake,
Grace on me is an iceberg’s puke.

When it pours, I float to the dyke
Waterproof covered with so much like
Groceries of failure, I don’t cook or bake
Because in this race; grace got my back.

Entreaty For Success

  • Lord,
    Clout my words
    Set my hands
    And move my legs,
    Miss me from stoppage sword
    Spot me like an innocent child
    Harden my cord
    Let all difficult rivers be ford
    Stop all bees’ hordes
    As I go honey hound.
  • Milk and honey fond
    My life be straightforward,
    But if I’m to live to die wretched;
    Why shall I be born or get my sword stretched?
    Oh, lord!
    Like in my mother’s womb, give me a cord
    Strengthen me like a rod
    Listen to my entreaty for victory.
  • (C) 2010
    The True Poesy

    written by Onyeche Vincent Onyeka

    Mushroom

    There’s no much room
    Merriment’s a pyre restroom
    Of which the sand’s roomy.

    Tolerance and vengeance
    Mario is deprived
    Of a mushroom jump

    The dead pyretic ground’s roomy
    Mario that you dog’s
    Of you and in you.

    By Onyeche Vincent Onyeka

    (c) 2011 http://onyecheonyeka.wordpress

    By Onyeche Vincent Onyeka

    (c) 2011 http://onyecheonyeka.wordpress

    Curl up in fear