Cursive, no thieves, just leaves, viva la valedictorian
Verily voting for venom,
Victims inclusive of some who had heard of him
Ofcourse
Vocal for Jesus like voting or venting
The vast invitations have vogued him
Visions of Vashti vroom through my vexing
But all I visit is the invincible
Vote it over all the visible
Vexing never vindicated alone
Eyes stay above from thought to tone
Violent verbal confession
No thieving touches the one will say
“I am more than Victorious”
Niel Quchi
© 2023
It started from January
Without a salary
We ate from hand to mouth
Our Landlord sent us out
We spent a lot during Christmas
Now I can’t buy ordinary slippers
My children had to go to school
So I had to sell my working tool
Next month, I lost my job
I was attacked by a mob
I lost my only car
And was constantly in a bar
Next month, my house got burnt
I went to the village and began to hunt
Because of pain and shame, I cried
I lost hope and my spirit died
Until the fourth month
From the grave we came forth
I and a man familiar with suffering
He wasn’t rich but he was so caring
He said, “I’ve taken away your sorrow
Don’t bother yourself about tomorrow
I was crushed for your iniquity
I’ve taken up your infirmity”
He taught me joy in suffering
With hope as his last offering
Now my life has totally changed
The way I see things have also changed
Now my new house is completed
All my children have graduated
I have brand new cars
And I no longer visit bars
I began to act different
Now I don’t need to pay rent
My house is very charming
And I still indulge in farming
I had nothing
Yet I possess everything
To the world I was a fool
But in him was my wisdom full
All because I believed
I definitely achieved
I was also faithful
And that was fruit full
From January to December
There’s a lot of disaster
From January to December
It’s not easy, you grow stronger
Charles Young
©2021
Years pass and she remains a sister to me
A perfect relationship divorce can’t sever
There is no ‘more‘ to want
Her love is complete and I am satisfied
Until the 99th night she passed at my house
She wakes at midnight to find my fingers on her breast
With a push from her I land on the floor
On getting up I see the hurt and unbelief in her eyes as tears roll down her cheeks
There is no explanation to her or myself of my actions
No words are exchanged
The wait for dawn is like waiting for Jesus’ second coming
I curl on the floor while she clutches herself tightly on the bed with occasional sniffs
I die a thousand death in a thousand ways, all by suicide
She leaves as morning comes
Apologies are meant for explainable crimes, not inconceivable ones
This crime should not be apologized for nor forgiven
A lot of water pass under the bridge and today I cry;
I cry because she visits last week and wraps me in a hug
We go for walks and she leans on me like old times
Like I didn’t abuse her
She has a golden heart but the most I expect are patches;
A hand sewn cloth thread with caution
She disappoints me with total abandonment and oblivion of the past
I cry for I don’t deserve her yet I have her
Her name is Grace
ChyD
© 2019
Christ a poet 