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Leonard Akwo Aug 2013
My dear, do you want to know
why this stream shall never cease to flow
why this countenance shall know no smile
why in vain you realease torent of bile
for eternity shall my face tarry behind the sun
and ever shall be till this ugly scenario run
cut off from every string joint to my mind
to recall no more that gruesome day
Limbeh turned a cadavar awaiting decay
how my heart tremble while my tongue relates
the incident that turned an early widow late
the night before, cried a owl across at nightfall
grandpa beheld and discerned the mysterious call
tapped he my shoulder and opened his phangs
look beyond the pregnant night in labour pangs
waiting to birth a child as mysterious as the cry
Ekumbo! May i live not to witness that melancholic night(he sighed)
a thing unheard of in Aweh beyond countless centuries
worth plunging a kingdom into an endless misery
frightened, departed me with my ribs to my cradle to fall
holdin his words to await he upon whom the lot shall fall
so as the pregnant night did flipped
departed then this poor widow to her field
to gather bread for her fatherless kids
then in agony their lips they bit
as their eyes rained in torrent
and their sobs grew even fervent
when the fatal tiding was unleashed
a thing which feared hearts and andrenaline released
how she bent beneath a dry iroko gathering yam
in her distant and lonely farm
a branch uphigh cracked
turned she to see the source of the crack
behold a log fell on her skull
pouring out what was left of her brain- all
keeling rightward, she fell as her spirit transcended a plane beyond
a place so gray, so blund
now poor orphans, as poppies to be shared
departed they to various kins to be rared
and daily this dirge about her goes
as villagers their drum beat and lyre blow
forget not the story of the unfortunate widow
who for the door, took the window
and drank not from the spring of old age
nor for her maternal labour achieved a wage
A true life story a widow who died in such a pathetic way. The story of that incident shall ever be told through countless generations.
Joe Vice Jr Oct 2016
****** upon the boundless plain
Locked in hope and searchless claim
We gather at this open court
Becoming just what we had hoped
Helped along with needy hands
Pushed from behind with wilder claims
We look for compassion and find it not
The clock has slipped and fallen
No deadline now to make it's name
We ****** along in silent pain
Knowing that our path was clear
Shaming all who cast us fear
When out of the light there rode
A sixpence horse with rider
Who staked his faith upon your grace
Pounding flag into the soil
And rared his steed upon your door
Proclaimed as if there were no more
While all the while we worried so
Was this the path to happenstance
Or was this right what we have done
To take our sabers into the sun
Clearing all who would be King
Finding not what we inflame
Somewhere close there senses death
In the mist there pleases pets
You make all this in memories time
For all is lost if we're so kind
In the end the road is clear
Another journey close to thee
Be careful what you wish to see.

— The End —