Chibueze Oscar Osuji
Biography of Chibueze Oscar Osuji
Chibueze Oscar Osuji, is a writer and a poet. He is from Nigeria. He was born in Lagos state Nigeria, where he is residing; he is from Imo state in Nigeria. He is currently studying in a tertiary institute in Nigeria. He introduced himself to the conditioned system of writing when he was a child, he was fascinated by science, philosophy, pyschology, management, drawing, art and poetry. Everything inspires him and he also likes to inspire the world.
Chibueze Oscar Osuji Poems
To plant purple flowers as the corridor Of a big ranching range of a manor- Mansion: Soft spankling purplish phyta and- Lovely, I would love to grasp with my hand
Going home, is the next thing on my mind After dropping prodigal acts behind, Taming the red furnace i have as tongue Never will I let her rot come along,
A Drop Of Love
Windows of heaven open to my heart T'ward my vaning-wind and my latitude Across lone arid and sterile desert There I lust for love in my solitude.
A Shadow Of Iba
Silence comes and the leaflets drop Imagery blurs of serpentine smoke Epiphanies of the eye, pop On the forthcoming of you, bloke:
Empire Of Pride
Many a pompous decide Many an empire of pride Aplenty of craniums be high And beheld among the sky
All Gallows' Eve
See the sky beckon all her hails From the red sun focus, With the eve arrive sapien's wails From gallowing locus.
Blank Lines Written Behind The Curtain
Curtain falls 'pon mankind, whom e'en hath bleat Stubbornly on halo lights of a stage, So we come afore play victors or doom What do we care? We r'cite our trembling scenes;
Song Of Solomon I (Chapter 1: 1-17 Re-Wr...
The song of songs for Solomon to own Let him plant the kiss's from his mouth on me Your love sweet'r than wine, your savor is known T' be good ointment as your name is to be;
Lament On The Christ: Holy Lamentum Iv
PROLOGUE Here, comely to Christ our lament Lots of love in whom we belove
Sainthood For Mr Sinnerman
Hark! Ye sinnerman to saint-hood In the world at large and cities, Man in-need of a common good Free from sin and atrocities.
Of A Hemlock Drink
Two friends had sat lonely along- The tavern liquid sprinkled floor There they were humming an old song, One was rich and the other poor,
When the caverns absorb the black chromate Of the sphere that float roundabout the wind, Hushing its wavy path, in the night's fate; Hither, thither the galagos' wail b'hind,
TRUTH: 'Tis of an un-ending means to know Where the greying truth had tarried to go, Methink th' prize of truth-telling is extinct Faded back-wardly in mankind's precinct,
To Come To Know
I have inclin'd my head a little lower As the church bell jiggled from higher tower, I fus'd a glance into the coffin-face Motionless the dead was; no pulse in place
Mute Talking Drum
We gather in the pavilion no more
My vibrant phalang's are drumming with sore
But I cuddle you vincinal to me
When no el'phantine ears will heed in glee
The bead-maidens do no organic dance
For the men do not nod with frenzy glance
And I have constructed your teethed sound
T' the languid cloud and the shadowless ground.