spilledwoords
– Spilling everyday experiences with words –
Towards Home
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.
I’ll Ne’er Die
Inanimate, yet an immortal
I speak without speakin’
needs no batteries, ne’er crashes
unless thrown in the corner. Read More
I am; I am
My father’s son I am; I am hard to repress
from a distance you’ll without doubt
pick me out from a multitude
even before you engage me
before I open my mouth to speak. Read More
What’s A Poem?
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.
Spill Words
Restlessly, relentlessly
I roam in the dark
unable to sleep, too excited
by thoughts in my heart and head. Read More
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© Ugo Nkwoala |Spilledwoords.org | 2020
