Many a times it start like a river
It flows and flows
Through a channel that we can’t chose
...
My friend to me you are a route
The path I count on in mazes of foes
My friend you are eyes in my head's rear
Your sight is my vision where mine sees not
...
Today you lie and do nothing
Is worm is better than you
It crawl here it crawl there
And your mind can’t make you move
...
Come to table kindreds alike
we are no strangers to our manor's tale
Our meals have new flavor
We shall now take tea with bile
...
Our wishes
Are treated
Like varnishing line
Of streak on water
...
Time comes when we are bounded
we become tied by two choices
One pointing here and another there
We get tangled in thoughts unresolved
...
Habib A Zakari is a writer from Nigeria and his works ranges from poem writing, folk-lore, Drama and his fictional works include short-stories and a Novella.)
Dreams
Dreams die
And their loss are lamented
Before many eyes that hold them high
They become droplet of water in Wildfire
Dreams die
And their loss are lamented
They die because they thread
wrong paths on straight journeys
Like trajectory that leads a river
to desert where lies not its path
Dreams die
Because they're malnourished
Like babies born in drought infested Land
Dreams die
Because they're sheltered
In minds that leave them bare
Like unclothed babies laid
in the harmattan wind
Dreams are Paths
They are Destinations
They are only reaced with right threadings
Dreams are like babies
Only care determine their growth
Dreams are like rivers
Their flow determine how they'll be