spilledwoords
– Spilling everyday experiences with words –
Tag: self-discovery
A Conqueror’s Memoir
A tale shall be toldof a man whose storyis long and impressive.A story of resilience and valorwith an extravagant show of discipline. Of a man who conquered the arenawith his sword of firm courage,with his hard-clinched fit and steady feet.And fought with every ounce… Continue Reading “A Conqueror’s Memoir”
Father to Father
Now my sons are born I seldom complainlike he never did about his worries –the weight and responsibilities of fatherhood. The obligation to protect n’ providecomes first and your wants very few –that desired designers shoes become wishful thinking. Now my sons are born,… Continue Reading “Father to Father”
Weep Not For Me
1. Weep not for me, dwelling of my repose monument of my vain hope for immortality now that Life’s swift journey is over my part is done, with open arms make my inanimate clay – an inevitable gain of your purchase welcome. 2. I… Continue Reading “Weep Not For Me”
Born Again
Papa is born againthis new spirit in him – crinkled eyes, fading skinbald-head, graying side-burnsis dogged. Many thirty-year olds or even less are responsive like Lydia was to Paul this good news – Money, Power and Confidence which were elusive at tender years. Difficult… Continue Reading “Born Again”
My Nib
My nib is incensed my fingers eloquent; they never sleep all they do is sweat. They shout what Autocracy calls forbidden values They limn what speech censors tag unapologetically dirty thoughts, since they must decipher at shut doors the secret codes of a treacherous… Continue Reading “My Nib”
Recent Posts: spilledwoords
Waiting
Hearing Voices
His Counsel
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 […]
A PASSAGE FOR NNENNE
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 […]
Louder Than a Riot
© Ugo Nkwoala |Spilledwoords.org | 2020
