slowly with a process

The era of greatness
Began slowly with a process
A pause, a close of the eyes

It began in all truthfulness
Not with the light nor in her rays
But in despair and in darkness

Like a hawk process swooped
down into a deep troubling dream
So full of owls and bats

Bitter it was once, bitter is it still
Remembering as brave process
Fought and fought and fell
Without rescuing success

But then, HE came very well
In the wind, in the morning bell
Lifting her from the hollow hell

Into a new dawn of ideas
A splendid tomorrow
Devoid of frown and agony

Indeed, the era of greatness
Began slowly with a process
A pause, a close of the eyes

Ugwu David C.
© 2019

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False-Truth

I’m not good enough,
Daddy is taking Ada out for the third time because she aced her exams and I did not,
It’s the 4th time I’m being dumped for the better one who happens to bear my second name,
Yes! I took the pain to please my team and they chose David instead to take the lead,
Right now, I can’t look my wife in the face because I was not strong enough to rescue our only son before the car exploded in my face,
It’s 5 of 5 times I gave my opinion only to be overlooked by Tunde my coworker,
Who later brushed it up at the board meeting and was given a cool offer,
I even bet my life savings on the victory of my soccer club and the other club won,
And now I remember that it was momma who never believed a word a say because of the lie I told when I was two,

So, before I take my baby steps to death,
let me tell you that life has left me bullied by these thoughts and actions and betrayals and my pride with many rejections,
I even resulted to alcoholism but.. wait,
My religion abhors it so I’m formerly depressed,
These are the few I can tell,
I don’t want to tingle your ears,
And so far, all gesture given to me have been a clue for my escape away from this wicked world,

This was my life until I met one who told me I was made for so much more,
“Though the world’s pressure be heavy on me?”
But one sure word,
“Though I have been tagged as a sore looser and my dreams are dying”
But one true word,
“Though the stem of a tree be cut off and it’s roots wither but with the scent of water…
..That tree will grow again”

So before you pull the trigger to your brain,
Or drink that mixture,
Or have a last look at the beautiful skies as you sink in to the deep,
Or tie that rope to your neck,
Or write your last letter,
Give me the chance to rescue the hero in you,
Let me a minute to whisper to you that you are the one the skies have been waiting for,
Allow me to give you this scent of hope that there’s one who believes in your breath,
Your scent, your accent, your color, your posture, your smiles,

I mean your tears a so treasured so much that every drop sends a signal to the one who created you,
Truly you’re the apple of his eyes,
And these misdeeds are remodeling you into a masterpiece,
Your past do not define your future,
You are equal and more to that problem you’re facing,
You’re the champion waiting to happen,
So don’t give up, hang in there!
And just before another ‘false truth’ comes knocking at your mind’s door,
Accommodate this one truth,
“You are good enough!”

Azubuike Hannah
© 2018

CLAD

I have been a gladiator all my life,
Wrestling with both man and beast all these times,
A complexion of my scars,
The door to my mind’s wounds,
I scarcely knew a hero within these black holes,
Far from the skies,

I entertained spectacular foes for audience,
And my evening had unfolding shows that were popular for my trophy pose,
With facades of joy,
After which I was given the raw meat to eat with a glass of some bitterness to sip,
My pride servicing my red eyes,
With lots of grin applause as envy came as a plus,

Death was my inevitable choice,
A sting option, patient for it’s active chance to occur,
And so no matter the wins, the victims, the gifts I gave,
I was yet to please him dead,
I gave my rivals befitting houses of sorrows with my lying arrows as my wrath residues,
No morrows, as my bow bows them into my memories of victory stairs,

See,
I’ve been in this game for so long,
Long before Seth was born as another son ceded,
Playing with my breathe as my life solemn song,
Yet,
I had not gone passed the dawn of game seven,
And this was no Seth’s based ball,

The summer sage started,
When the first boomerang of teenage battle, unlatched my belt and I stumbled into some piles of dirty lies,
My chest cage got broken when I mistook the right turn for the rest, having the same look as the dust after hauling down to the earth,
The crowd’s laughter grew,
As I made futile efforts to move with my trousers down clogging my boots,
This was no goodness of peace running through my restless veins,
It was vain to shield myself from this day waiting to happen,

Finally with just one slingshot,
My hard hat headed off my head,
And I couldn’t think straight,
It was obvious that I was unsafe,
I was the lad who brought a pen knife to a sword fight,
My only gifted weapon passed down from my elder brother who departed before the age of impart,
I could only keep his last statement which was..
One word of believe from,
Your lips and this penknife becomes a sword,

But as I said,
This day with the weeks following it became the years,
I was not thinking straight,
I mean whose youngster would read Eph6:10-17 and relate a thing?
So there I was unclad ,
A master at pleasing my audience,
This misery of mine became a life series served as an appetizer to Death’s main dish,

My only hope was found in two windows
One of which was an opportunity at game seven and the other, my escape plan,
This was the chance, Death never had,
A chance become the hero within these black holes,
A chance to experience the real joy,
All I needed was a new war dress,
To address this life’s mess,
I needed to get my head straight,
To speak out that Living word of believe,
I needed to guard my heart’s cage to decide what was right and just best,
My belt so tight, I would be smart enough to deliver this truth,
My boots ever ready to tell others there could be a new you,
A faith to shield all these armors cause dead men tell no ,tales,

And so here I am,
A gladiator with a different profession,
Fighting man’s spiritual beast,
Casting down every imagination that exalts itself against the knowledge of my new found Truth,
I bleed my penknife into a sword every time I speak,
My confession has been a salvation in deed,
I am the young star who reads Eph6:10-17 and relates even with 18,
Death’s sting option was quiet late,
So whenever I win these daily battles,
I prove that the Truth already had the victory in the war,
And right now, I’m gaining mastery of this course.

Hannah
© 2018

Breathe

I am no stranger to pain,
I’m quite the scarred miracle myself,
My eyes have bled and my heart has leaked,
I can totally relate to the word ache,
I know what it feels like for the world to end,
For the sky to drop heavily on your chest so much that you can’t breathe,
To clench your hands tightly hoping that u are actually holding on to something, only for you to realize that you are and it’s not just enough,
To realize that u are claustrophobic and there isn’t that much space in the world,
And maybe you’ll find that space in your mind only that’s it’s too quiet in there,

I know that feeling all to well,
That one that has turned you into an actor,
You don’t need to rehearse you know the script like the back of your palms,
Like this,
Hey, how are u?
And you’d say,
I’m awesome you ?
And you’ll find that smile that never fails to hide the scars and fresh wounds you’ve become so used to,
And you’ve learnt to find strength,
In the welcoming breast of your pillow,
Because somehow it takes the tears and never drowns you in it,
She’ll help you face the world,
And for a fleeting moment it will be as though the world isn’t closing down on you,
And you’ll almost believe it,

Xophie

(c) 2018