Echezonachukwu Nduka


Echezonachukwu Nduka Poems

1. Drifting 1/17/2014
2. Say Me Well To My Long Lost Love 2/10/2014
3. Etude 2/18/2014
4. Beside The Shattered Chandelier 3/15/2014
5. Love Is Death 3/20/2014
6. Threnody For Kofi Awoonor 3/20/2014
7. The Awakening 3/20/2014
8. Libretto For The Niger Delta 3/20/2014
9. For This Kindhearted Night 3/23/2014
10. This Light, Our Journey (For Dami Ajayi) 3/31/2014
11. Die In My Arms 6/10/2014
12. Have You Met My Poem? 6/10/2014
13. Funeral Symphony (For Professor Dora Akunyili) 6/17/2014
14. The Last Bottle Of White Wine (For Onyeka Nwelue) 12/7/2013
15. Morgue Portraits 8/12/2014
16. One More Bottle (For Yvonne) 8/13/2014
17. 4/18/2015
18. Chronicles Of Miss Dungworth 5/6/2015
19. The Blind Pianist 5/7/2015
20. عازف البيانو الاعمى 5/7/2015
21. Spring 5/11/2015
22. Invitation 5/11/2015
23. Where Music Lives... 5/23/2015
24. Mask 6/19/2015
25. Let Us Pray 6/23/2015
26. Cold Is A Country 11/6/2014
27. Beadwork 11/26/2014
28. Zakk's Lager 12/13/2014
29. Self 12/18/2014
30. This Night That Knows No Sleep 12/26/2014
31. If I Do Not Love You 10/8/2014
32. Orthon Palace 6/24/2014
33. My Sin On A Sunday Morning 3/20/2014
34. We Wear Purple Robes 5/6/2014
35. There's No Love Here 6/26/2014
36. Ghost Lover 9/1/2014
37. Say Me A Prayer 12/30/2013
38. The Initiation 10/24/2014
39. Two Doves And A Lighter 3/7/2015
40. Renaissance 4/4/2015
Best Poem of Echezonachukwu Nduka

Renaissance

now that the streets are stripped
and keys lock themselves in defiance,
should nudity blind the eyes of minors?
now that the streets are filled with dry tongues
and streams dry at daybreak,
from whence should spittle flow as fountains?

you are a lad whose songs suspend all chaos
as every tongue is tempted to test a divisive theory;
your lyrics are now dead that lights the lone candle.
plucked from thorns—dry are the roses thrown at your feet.
yours is a blind eye that tell stories of yesteryear;
yet, these stories rename themselves every passing day. ...

Read the full of Renaissance

Drifting

It wasn’t the peck on my left cheek
that brought tears to witness the wrong
you’ve done to my heart.
Rather, the loudness of your silence when my
heart yearned for your soothing words.

Your words became dry like a desert thirsty for
a drop of spittle.
To quench my heart’s thirst, you offered a peck

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