Telegram - Poem by Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu
Terse messages with yellowness of
Thunder, numbed by ceremonies of
This day of Death!
From across the seven seas,
It fluttered with wings of
The page was ill
With blood and black sorrow,
Fuming and consolidating chars of
Martyrs whose fathers were wistful politicians...
With fingers of blue,
They have arrived –
Messages of Thunder flung across
Bleeding thresholds with yellow, sickly, point-of-the-matter
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You