Our life is like
a cigarette
Which is bound to burn
If we succeed
Smoke goes up in the air
If we fail
We are bound to
burn alone
in a secret chamber
Neither time
Nor our background
Can give us walk overs
Even the roles are fixed
Only expressions are ours

I have climbed
down the rotten
ladder of confusion
and dismay.
And I've been
raised up also
to the highest
pinnacle and corridor
of power.
I've enjoyed
accolades and the
awards of honors.
My heart have
loved someone before
and lost because
i couldn't win
her beautiful heart.
I have also
been loved by
a tender heart.
I've known peace
and enjoyed serenity,
I've also been
horrendously tormented.
I have seen
beautiful and
unspeakable things
that will leave
you speechless.
I have survived
death by war
and by ill health,
by the hands
of people and
by accidents,
all left their
scars as witnesses
to tell their tales.
The lion man
is very good
at showing his
charm to subdue
and intimidate everyone
else into surrendering.
Power is taken
by force and
the forceful takes
it by force.
A gentleman never
had anything given
to him unless
grace is operational
in his life.
You may be
wise but poor,
know that no
matter how loud
your voice may sound,
no one may
ever hear you.
But in all
of these countless
years of experience,
the Almighty has
been very good
and kind to me.
And now
my mouth and
my heart is
forever so grateful.
©2019,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.

These words are a script
You can study them
And repeat them verbatim
As this poem is written

But are these words simply that?
Phonetically intact
Safe, safe, so very safe
Memorised, for their pleasure

Then recognise your artist inside
Trapped behind structure and rules
You write exact, clear and concise
But those who memorise the words are fools

My script is packaged for you to discover
An algorithm decoded by mind and wonder
As are all the words, which have graced our planet
Culture from another place, or time, another dimension

All you need is fair a heart,
And mix that in, with pure of mind,
Sprinkle in romantic thoughts,
And add some love, just use the rind,

You'll need a pinch of *** appeal,
And just a smidge of naughty thoughts,
Room temperature is always best,
For when you take your clothing off,

The kindest words work best this way,
And don't forget to blow a kiss,
And mind your mood as you begin,
And don't forget to make a list,

A candle red, with rose oil rub,
As much as you can muster up,
Mix all of these together well,
Voila!, a recipe for love.....

April is retirement time
Triple hot memory stream
Of months that March close behind
Febru and Janu very kind
Not far still to remember
The days of cool December
The long talks in your chamber
The sweet eves of November
Not to mention the embers
Of love that warm up members
May be rain or hay day noon
July finds an all wet June
But days come like August guests
And busy with just inquests

Time turns September Rians
forget-me not, you asters
Full of morning glory stares
You Octogenarians
All contain within a span
Of sweet memory expanse
You too collecting pension
After superannuation.

Its nice to see you colleagues
Always glad without fatigue
Chatting and pat the other
Cracking jokes on your attire
The young baby look you wear
And the nursery kid's fire.

Its all fare and just affair
One more phase to maneuver
In the course of your orbit
On face of earth to be fit
To gain and do maximal
Service  to its proximal

April too is time to thank
For the net balance in bank
And set your mind on the crank
And care for fitness and fun
To re-register and run
The vehicle with new paint
Not to shuttle and to taint
Nor to settle in confine
But to scuttle along nature
To look and learn and nurture
And listen to the pristine
Wisdom from the Lord divine.
Thanks to you all who retire
And wish you keep up the fire!