Ikechukwu Ogbuike Poems

This is a sample copy of a letter that was written to our President by a small boy and her sister.

Dear Sir,
I want to appeal to you sir to come to the aid of my family before it's too late.
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Freedom is such a clean and rare air
It feels somewhat improper breathing it only with the nose
So we open up our eyes, our ears, and our mouth
Sometimes we go naked to take it in because in this particular chow there could never be an overdose.
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This is a letter of a father to a son on a forlorn wintry day while staring out of the window of his house as the snowflakes fell. He had just been foreclosed on this piece of property which he had spent his whole life on because he had fallen behind on his mortgage. He only had a couple of hours to stay in it before the agents of the law came to implement the directives of the court. He lived all alone. His wife was long dead and his only son was somewhere in Africa fighting a war that was not his.
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I am not looking for a new lover
As much as I am trying to extend this umbrella that gives me cover
And so I ask, friend, tell me the story that is your own
I have been on the sideline for too long, make known to me what is unknown
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To be brothers is well worth its weight in pounds,
Especially in Africa and all its horns!
But when this dream of our fathers is no more worth being on,
We may well have to cut this cord and run.
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All that was we ever desired was a nectar and a pollen
But winter came and drove them on a pilgrimage that left us with desires that are swollen
As they flee over the frozen glade in their haste, they look over their shoulder
As if to shrug off the pall that had taken over the dentures of this itinerant lover
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When I die
I don’t want to be laid in state so those who knew me can come and lie
Bury me therefore when I die
And if hell is my destination, let me go there and fry.
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Beyond here
Beyond this atmosphere
Beyond this mist
We are a people who exist
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If you are looking for fitting label for a fool
Probably might find it inside a branded package of truth
I am told it's no more to be found within the realms of those who have lost their denture
But in the laps of children who are yet to come to grips with their future
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There are considerably many things I would like to be
At the top of this hierarchy is the desire to be free
To live the intimacies that remain within me like gold
Needing a digging with a vengeful hoe
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