I had left to the hollow
In bottled paws, famished legs.
That dove smears the marrow
And sends stagnant moon's dirges
...
Past on double bladed edges has left us
Yet beckons on us to come back
We wished we can in fuss
Looking at the pains which rubbed our back
...
Love has become a scary war party
Yet a fight in tango out of bitterness we merry.🖤
A pot had by far been broken in me💔
...
I wandered in the bush of love
Barefooted for stinking decades;
Only a shadow i could behove
With thorns whipping me as barricades
...
My clothes socked with dreams
Like a rat that fell into apool
And the eyes eager as sponge
Luring and lurking in the stolen urge of the night
...
"Why we leaved where we are"
The roads are silent earlobes
Hope no longer drive its lorries
And drift of amputated wind
...
A son of a town crier, an astute writer who started his creative writings in secondary education, as a high school student inspired by wide reading of other peoples poem in the college including prolific writer like Christopher Okigbo, W.B Yeats, Achebe and lots more. He is currently a student of English language and literature in Ebonyi State university Abakaliki. He has written many unpublished works of poetry that can engross generation if readers if vent shall be giving to his voice. He say he is " The finger tip that bleeds" . Son of the town crier... What you hear me say is from the King, whom His words are deepened in wits)
I Nearly Shot The Dove
I had left to the hollow
In bottled paws, famished legs.
That dove smears the marrow
And sends stagnant moon's dirges
Fastidiously to the bay
Decision of the catapult
Was, fray-longing, hits day,
Ever in the red eye of earth.
I had my fist poised
And it's beauteous strands
Calls the dust of demand.
Over span would tell my hands
So undeterred as rain
Always-would tis signal curve train.
Those who love you will pray for who you want to be not who they want you to be.