Onyi Ogwumike Poems

I wonder if my pencil knows my age,
If my paper would reject my words,
Protesting my “youth”, labeling me “amateur”.
If when I look into Life’s honey brown irises,
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Be calm, my dear Inferno.
Let not your spirit be roused by the superficial slashes of Life's whip.
Only tearing into my human bindings,
never even scratching the iron wings fastened tight on my soul.
...

My forehead pounds
With the same strong strike of some soul’s
Hand upon the head of a drum.
Frustration
...

Love died at his lips.
Jumping off of his tongue into the razor sharp blades of a sea of cruel reality. The merciless waves of sorrow slashing against his face, as painful life slowly filled the lungs of my beloved. Drowning in his own tears.

Love died at his hands.
...

My forehead pounds
With the same strong strike of some soul’s
Hand upon the head of a drum.
Frustration
...

I say,
By the breathe that unwinds in my lungs,
That of all mortal men
With phases that bloom and wither as the blossoms on a tree,
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Should I rest on Night’s iris?
Being enveloped by her soul,
As those great wings of eyelids fold me into her dark shadow.
Dear Mistress,
...