Life is brief – unbelievably brief,
yet each days’ journey seem
a long trek towards home.
On this rough and steep road
that stretches broad and far
there are many travelers, co-hikers.
Few are real friends, many thieves, others unthankful,
rapes happen too often on this highway
not just to women, but more to men.
So also are many check-points
where you buy your way often
in want – in tears – in grief.
But I’ve learned a waitin’ attitude
to not jump on trains while they’re movin’
to wait for the next, than to lose a leg
on this brief journey towards home.
Copyright © 2018. Ugo Nkwoala. All rights reserved.
What’s a poem?
Is it witty word play,
phrases or sentences that
are stripped prose meant
to be insightful, arrayed
in stanzas and verses,
that at times its theme seem
puzzling or incomprehensible to a reader?
– Yes, but not this alone.
Lad! Remember that no man ought to forgeta child’s tender youth is like tempering of waxapt to receive form – discipline before affectionmix threats with a fair look, manner with wit. A potter fashions his lay when it’s softa sparrow taught to come when younghot iron by a hammer’s stroke begets formand keeps it forever […]
4 It was the stuff of a satire, were it not painfully true. Nnenne sat silently on a black-spotted Ankara patterned sofa surrounded by chattering friends and coworkers. She and a handful of friends at Lolo’s urging – her childhood friend and workmate, had gathered at her residence to celebrate a hard-fought promotion greeted with […]
© Ugo Nkwoala |Spilledwoords.org | 2020