You and I
The grass has refused to grow
Stunted they form moulds
Blown adrift by a smidgen of wind.
The sky has refused to cry
Amidst pleas from broken men
Who seek succour from its plunging dim.
When grass will grow
And sky cry
Is when man and nature
Form a thriving pasture.
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Telling Lives
Once I flew on the
Wings of time
Soaring like an eagle
Drawing nearer to thee.
Now
Time circles ahead
Plunging me to earth
Drifting away with the tides
Waiting for no hide.
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Woman
(Dedicated to WRITA)
I am the rock
Set upon rocks of untold shapes
Tormenting the sun with my stare
Mocking the moon with my glare
Defying the elements of their forces-
Forces that do not know that
I am a rock.
But a rock I might be
Yet a refuge I am for hundreds
Who lie on me on sun filled days
To dry up their wet slick bodies
Who climb on me on moonless nights
To see far and wide.
I have served as bed to some
A source of inspiration to a few
In my very existence there is comfort
For those who draw substance from me.
A rock, you say
Yet in time of despair
Clutch at me lest
You fall off the cliff.
A weapon I serve
To crush your enemies in times of war.
A protector I serve
To hide your defenceless forms
From butchers.
Yet I am a rock
Cast and thrown about
The sea swallows me not
For I am its bedrock..
A rock, I stand resolute
And still
A fortress in your time of need
An avenger in your time of war.
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(c) Perpetual Emenekwum-Eziefule