POETRY FLAME (SHADES OF HUMAN COLOUR)

POETRY FLAME (SHADES OF HUMAN COLOUR)

Our country
Written by: Ikeh Peter Uchenna
The country crowds on our nose
and destroys the beauty of our morning rose,
they tore our reservoirs of hopes
and tied us in their long ropes.

We are cropped upon the hardest fragment of lands,
watered with woes, we lay low in our crowded bands,
battered with heat in our home prisons
for no just course or alluring treasons.

We creep and crumble in the daylight
and never rest our minds upon the fall of night,
in the inner house were they uproot their chances,
they debates on our burial circumstances

oh! Many fruitful days we left behind,
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Tear flame
Written by: Ikeh Peter Uchenna
Tears weaved hollow cries
from the deep dark pit chested within,
flaming in heavy overflow
but loosing their angles,
lightly, drowning their parts.

There was the warmness that the hands can touch
piling on the shell of the ocean.
Their was the sharp lights that could pierce the heart
and the healing outer flesh that the eye can see,
clothing with mountains

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Their was the windy breath that can soar,
shredding its wings
piece by piece to the home beneath.
Their was the drowning rivers
swallowed by its own waves

There was the signs that could marvel the mind
hung on fragments of grey rainbow,
glowing with sermons of grief
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Humanity
Written by: Ikeh Peter Uchenna
The worth of human is the strength of the mind.
The strength pushes,
the weakness pulls.
The strong stands,
the weak falls.

Humanity is a molten mountain,
mixture of life’s watery bliss and sandy woes.
When the heat burns hard,
bliss evaporates,
and leaves humanity in dried moistureless sand.
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The wind has a letter for you
Written by: Ikeh Peter Uchenna
The wind has a letter for you.
It is written in ink of broken gold,
dust mountains of youth mingled
with moisture of watery breath.

The wind has a letter for you,
it is written in colors of grey passion,
it speaks of buried years,
the faded green splendor of time.

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The wind has a letter for you,
it is written within the fore walls of history,
it is the script of thy age,
the story of womb to tomb.

The wind has a letter for you,
“why whilst thou sit there
and watch thy desires
return to sand”

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This life we live
Written by: Ikeh Peter Uchenna
We toil and labour all day,
coming and going, we never halt to pray,
faces all mean along the pathway,
battered in our own selves, we lay.

We crave and fight away all ages
in our innermost self surmounted by rages,
baffled in our aggressive mind,
we fear fellow men who are woeful kind.

Running and gasping in our homes,
when there are none and a thousand foe,
sitting and engrossed, we flung out with our hoe,
what baffles? I do not know.

We has worked our brain for so many seasons,
yet we lack all reasons.
We has fed ourselves with so many wisdom,
yet we conceive no peace in our kingdom.

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