poem: SILENT CHRISTMAS

We drag our feet
Towards the pitch dark night
The eve of a
Silent Christmas

The chit-chat, and much ado
About ill Commander-in-Chief
And little flickers of light
From I pass my neighbor
The numero uno source of power
Are all subdued by fuel
The lack of it

Our will to whisper
Imprisoned
By certain salient
Fear
Of tomorrow, the New Year
Triggered by mass sack
Of colleagues here, and there

Silence is enforced
By gloomy thoughts
Of accumulating bills
Like the dreaded sword
Of the legendary Damocles

Christmas spirit,
A discerning being
Has sneaked out through
The backdoor
Remising his rights to
Despondence

We trod now
Grudgingly
With trepidation
Toward a very
Silent Christmas


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Morose

An Ode to President Musa Yar' Adua

I pass my neighbour

poem: KEY TO HAPPINESS

Your promises
Broken or forgotten
Blame it not on the rain
Or the moon or the shine
For seasons will come
Again, and again
In cycles,
Never ending
Like the ever changing
Key to happiness

And if the key to your happiness
Lies in my hands
Gladly would I
Unlock the door
Or the key in your palm I'll lay

To move from uncertainty
To certainty, explore we must
My corner, your corner
All corners of the globe
All time of the day
Godly or ungodly the hour may be
This key we must find

Laced with sweet honey of mystery
And thrills of mischief
This ungodly hour
As delicious it sounds
Might be the key

Explore we shall
And start we will
My place, or yours or neutral will do
Week starts or week ends
This day or the morrow
This week or the next
Dusk or dawn
This key we'll seek

poem: RUNAWAY GROOM

She stood, still
Graceful,

Like a statue
Of the Virgin Mary

Immaculateness,
Bestowed upon her
By the flawlessness
Of her wedding gown

A drop of hot tear
Rolling down
Her delicate cheek
Belies the calmness
Her stillness suggests

The clock ticks

But he’s gone
With another
A runaway groom
Abandoning her
To multitude of expectant
Pairs of eyes
On her wedding day

Her legs wobbled
Perhaps unable to support anymore
The burden swelling up
In her broken heart

Ere comforting hands could
Reach her
Like a log
She slump


Those who read this, also read:


Heartless II

Dilemma of Love

Of Women

poem: HUNTER HUNTED

I fiddled with emotion
True love I baptized,
Not with water, but saliva
Spat from
My prickly tongue


Time and time again,
I mocked love
Satisfying only my desire -
Lust, loot, and booty
With style
And swagger

Ah, what a player I was
A hunter with class
Gifted with the gab
With sly and con,
Preys, after preys,
I squashed and savour

Now I’m haunted
By loves I spurned
Faces of scorned ones
Parade my dreams
Leaving in their wake
Torments and regrets


Alas, the doors are shut
With locks, and bolts
And true love scarce
Like water in desert

Now I’m hunted
With vigour and vehemence
By predators with style
Ah, the chicken
Is home to roost



Those who read this also read


Of women

Heartless II

Learning Curve

Beyond Death