segun Johnson Ozique Poems

The sleeping dog
Is best left snoring?
For it is best we;
Make historical slumber
...

She walked onto the rostrum
A torturing treacherous arena
Where most stoic would
Wither, swizzle or sizzle.
...

16 good years and two months I am.
A close, angelic, ministerial life I live.
Adherence to best circumscriptive behaviour,
A life, supremely loved by my parents.
...

Watching water in the sprinkle:
Fluency of the sweetening splash,
As it nourishes the soul of the soil,
Is a force of beauty of delicate sort.
...

Why do I love my family of poets?
Why do I hunger in their absence?
Why do I get transformed, wither
To a corridor zone of lovely essence
...

A life carefully orchestrated
Charily packaged and curtained
Within a domesticated space
Policed by offers of responsibility
...

This wind of no change,
Brings me no succor
In meeting my needs;
Or freshness in my lungs
...

As the sun goes dropping from heaven
The shadow lengthening on earth
No one it seems have noticed
The truth that nature denudes
...

Lulled I was by her beauty,
The sweet singing birds,
The moon dancing with her,
Desire she wants to quench,
...

I sat squashed in my guest room
My safe heavenly observation line
Parched in a cubicle that pinched sizes
By the minutes as I grew castrated
...