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Joseph C Ogbonna Oct 2023
I am a *****
I say it with pride
I cannot my colour hide
its radiant blackness does glow.
I am tropically designed,
and from taunts I am resigned.
I love my natural label,
it rings my pride like a bell.
My frame is black and lovely,
I am feminine and curvy.
My rare Baartman's curves are awesome,
despite my colour being 'loathsome.'
My labour in the scorching field
was worth a trans-Atlantic risk.
I enriched the west with my yield.
My hard labour did slip my disc.
I am Africa's black gold,
and on this heritage I hold.
I am black and proudly so,
that is who I am, a *****!!
Black Pride
Joseph C Ogbonna Oct 2023
I heard the voice of the good shepherd say;
"I did your sad and weary soul salvage,
lean on me, I did for your freedom pay.
Lean on me, and come to God with courage."
The soft voice of Jesus tenderly speaks,
when in moments of pain, my sadness peaks.
His assuring words give my poor soul rest,
as I lay my wearied head on his breast.

I heard the voice of the good shepherd say;
of the life giving bread he freely gives
to all the redeemed in whose hearts he lives.
I came to him as hungry as I was,
and my spiritual stomach he did sate.
His soft spoken voice always pleads my cause,
his love for me is always up to date;
thus on him only I can hang my fate.

I heard the voice of the good shepherd say;
"I am the only sacrificial lamb,
no one else can duplicate my good role."
I once was lost, but he rescued my soul,
he did protect my fallen soul from harm.
When from his sheepfold I stubbornly strayed,
with no regard for the price he gladly paid,
he lovingly sought me out without delay.
The Good shepherd
Joseph C Ogbonna Sep 2023
I always did fantasize about our diverse earth;
Its freezing stones in the fridges of the Arctic and Antarctic landscapes.
The idyllic playgrounds on the quiet sands of the Mediterranean Sea banks,
The amazing sun baked plains of the smoothened Sahara brown,
The tropical Haven of humid air, where the golden sun awakes in a fair and bright morning, and sets at even with its magnificent crimson smile.
What a cozy feeling can its temperate climes bring; with its sheer abundance of Clement weather.
A paradise indeed of ambient mildness.
I long for the warm gardens of Eden’s residues, with their ebullient and lush tropical green.
How pleasant it would be to cascade down the many waterfalls in an imaginary and wonderland fashion.
To go atop the zenith of each mountainous heaven from which pinnacle point you have the panoramic view of your own vanquished plains.
I once disappeared into the wind, in a midsummer night’s dream to see my global fantasies come true.
And like a boisterous eagle,
I glided high to the heavens for this global and utterly delightful bird’s eye view.
A poem about an adventure around the earth's landscape.
Joseph C Ogbonna Sep 2023
As information is sourced, we knowledge add.
Entertainment is accessed by each ipad.
The cost of research is by the net reduced,
whilst addiction to **** is by it induced.

Banking transactions are by it made easy,
so does the convenience of a shopping spree.
We conveniently send mails by speed of light,
and connect to old buddies beyond our sight.

Its flash of lightening promotes the breaking news,
so does its ill wind the fake ones for our views.
It mocks distance with commercial activities,
and lures perverts to their ****** proclivities.

It does our world flatten with mobile services,
its not by distance hindered for con men's vices,
neither will it the distant swindled protect.
It does the deeds of distant bullies perfect.

Transnational love has by it been produced,
when love birds electronically are introduced.
Global link that binds us all like a cobweb;
Old and young alike, each enslaved by the web.
A poem about the internet. Its pros and cons.
Joseph C Ogbonna Sep 2023
I will cling closely to your breast;
on which my wearied head will rest.
I will lie gently on your thighs,
from whence I'll fly to distant skies.
I'll seek refuge in your warm arms,
it always my thunderous head calms.
I will to your heart find entrance,
the moment I'm given a chance.
I will in your smiles take delight,
when from looming trials I take flight.
I will from your voice get comfort,
in times of utmost discomfort.
I will at your heart's doorway wait,
even if your consent comes late.
A poem for my loving wife, Chizoba
Joseph C Ogbonna Aug 2023
Executive- My powers are absolute,
                    thus I am totalitarian.
                    The legislature and judiciary
                    are each subservient to my whims.
                    I pass my bills with attendant
                    compliance, and interpret my own
                    terms as the law.
                    I shut the doors of compassion,
                    I am very deeply elusive.
                    I give no room at all to dissent.
                    I get bloated with the treasures of the nation.
                    In a leap year's tenure I bulldoze
                    my way back to my incumbent status.
                    And when four multiplies two, I impose
                    a minion to cover my ills.

Legislature- To obnoxious decrees I give my consent.
                       I inflate yearly forecasts to become opulent.
                       I am gratified for the cabinet servants' affirmation.
                       I always my selfish treaties ratify.
                       I am undoubtedly slavish to executive excesses.
                       I seek the redress of constituents' grievances
                       to enlarge my pocket's size.
                       And above all else, I am largely rubber stamp.

Judiciary- My evasive justice is yours' to reap
                   if you are a top notch,
                   whilst I withdraw the distributive
                   and restorative from insolvents.
                   I base my interpretations on business
                   interests,
                   and make laws for the interests of
                   a cabal.
                   Equity and rights are only in my
                   constitution stated.
                   But in reality they are no more
                   than abstract twins.
                   The sacred laws of our national prospectus
                   I serve as a weak custodian of,
                   and weaker still in the face of political
                   heavyweights.
                   But with all the lofty responsibilities
                   I am reverently saddled with,
                   I can do nothing more than
                   empower bigwigs because I am weak,
                  and they are powerful.
The characteristic traits of Nigeria's three arms of government.
Joseph C Ogbonna Jul 2023
I am his punching bag,
he punches me at will,
he punches me to vent his anger,
he does so to douse his frustrations.
He tries to regulate my emotions,
he entrenches himself fastidiously
in my life's branches.

My constant battery is his love's
justification.
To him, none else could care better,
not even my own sacrificial mum.
In my secular and public life,
his raging jealousy is hardly concealed.
I am his only mood swing's spectator,
I am enslaved by regular and
suicidal threats.
I must to his own will remain subservient
for my own dear children's survival.
Not even my domestic pets are spared.
My movement is restrained, every
friend of mine is a suspect,
and my conversations are thoroughly
scrutinized.
His watchful eyes are never exhausted
by prying.
He makes my life a world of suspicion
and espionage.
My conscience is daily by blame overwhelmed.
I am worthless and hardly esteemed, and can on
none else rely.
I have no better friend or acquaintance than him.
My inferior gender is a social stigma,
hence I am closeted with his unquestionable
desires.

I must please him to the utmost
with my food, chores and body;
My meals must sate his insatiable appetite
with the very best cuisines of his choice.
My house chores must be flawless in dexterity
for his perfectionist requests to please.
At bed time my **** and body curves
must gratify and gratify his ****** proclivities,
even at my own very expense.
A married Nigerian lady's poetic narrative about domestic violence
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