Do Not Call My Solid Tears 'poem Poem by Bonaventure Onuabuchi

Do not call my solid tears 'Poem
Though in blacks and blues they may room,
That just would seem your sickly thought,
And stoutless like a loosely flag my truth.

Do not call my solid tears 'Poem
Words that are made flesh neither tramp nor roam.
It may in liquid had all tears seen,
But I wouldn't my tread where this world trod,
cos I am me that couldn't my strange world forsake.

Do not call my solid tears 'Poem
Have not lines and rhymes their home,
In those heart of what grey hairs give,
Whence they hail and live.
But my heart will not this progeny's nurture claim-
Not even I boldly to this I mostly cherish and declaim.


So do not call my hopeless tears 'Poem-
For not I will under this brazing roof hunt.
Those tears are the orphans of my broken heart.
And if I do not cry I have let my fountain flat,
And like my tears' may no longer breathe.

Do not call this tears 'Poem
Do not turn it a merry song,
For every melody here will Heaven's ears' disgust be.
Do not like the murderers dance
Through funs will our ruin immortality be.
But like the cross bearer, live your mourning uncut.
Cos our country is dead,
Murdered by our trusted saviours whose hands are spotless.

So like every I, in futile dream of resurrection promises,
From my tears will my respite feed.