Niger-Delta River
Cherubim and Seraphim are singing for us
They are cooking for us the meal of salvation
Their aprons are saintly robes
Their condiments are harvests of virgin earth

The celestial virgins are serving our dinner
Your moment of glory is timed
with sands of gold
To the merry you shall come burdens threshed
To you your inheritance shall be delivered
As paradise

The murky Niger-Delta River shall be flushed
With the spurt of their plasma
The horizons of penury shall be freshened
By the waft of our imploding treasure

As this Armageddon land shall be matched
By the limbs of your own
The tracks shall tell
The arm which slays at war,
remains the feet
which turns to home

I have done a winner within 10mins. But at the same time I have a 10 line piece or so I have not concluded for weeks now. I guess cause my muse is on a walk.

A gentle ripe
Bared the brilliance of a blue river
In a land long searched
For a quench of thirst
The cover of my weakness, the one to trust
Life is a ridge of monstrous hills
But indeed I did dream
Someday will see me uncontrollably
Descending down this dear valley, a fall
Like a candy
Destined to be licked by your lips

Where rests this great idea. I see its been quite a while we had a word on the idea brought up by Basic las April. I have just published a collection of my works, titled TRICKLES of a TIME, but will be happy to be part of a nairaland publication. Lets rekindle, contact@nanateam.net

There in, he is vilified yet celebrated
There after, he is vilified
But the celebrators are gone
Old soldier
Arriving with remedy
As he mowed and jerked
The ‘power drunk’ fellow loosed knots
Harshly, as we celebrate
We woe and curse, mostly
Chorusing with the nzes
In trouble times
He, the monster from the rocky patch, wasn’t
Alone in the pitch
Of our spectatorship
We asked not his faith
As he didn’t, being for all
Now we toil to cast his fate
Denied glory
By copiers of his swagger, and
Imitators of his doggedness
If for his wealth, rising folds
Or his act, like god persona
In camp I booed
I acted foolish, I cursed my wish
Being eight of ten who will.
The praise singer I need not be
But we need answer our role
And to his own fate
Let old soldier be

Sink to the pond
Poor pool of ponder

You`ve dropped straight to the heart
Shield never from my white hat

I wear you like woollens
Bonds of life like a wife

But your weight whet my will wildly
Yet I still bear you in my bones

Do I wan` die

I sink to barrels.Bright & Blaze
Like my veins vowed no vanquish

One`s got to leave to live

For now
I sink thee to the pond

Once upon a land
There be fellows
Inking long wills on short papers
In their inscriptions the say
I love you, or hate
For those the stand for or against
In a line the teach
The glory of insanity
Bearing the strength of an ‘insane strive’
Creepily the move towards, a dream
For a time and thereafter
The mutely proclaim
Events of a decade
From the walls of a land
The send out voices, and from miles away
Bring back accolades for the land
That when they leave, their wish remain
That it be known
There were poets in this land

I have some recognition from Poetry.com. But I must say it was disappointing because I had to post with a different address because 'Nigeria is not in their list of nations.'

Once came a bird,
so dear it took my heart away.
Tender feather of my dream
soft and gentle to the soul, seemingly,
I was to get lost to her world
top a tree less favoured.
The drift was a swing
up and down jingle
of my heart, still stuck
but not all the way.
It was a sway
beyond my fragile frame
Set for on and on, but
Upon my limit, from the swing,
This dear begged to honour fall

She sizzles down the stream
As her cloak soaks more weight
Like a fated child encumbered
By mother’s piggy-back
Who cries for help this time

Will you or not
Give away either pride or patch
Souls are drying
While we act like nutters
Not just Harare but a kind suffers

How long will you hunt us
Finely groomed deceit
Your order set one against the other
Our union a glorious tongue song
Can we not ditch your strangling grip

I have never been held by a tale like this before. Adichie, I must confess, is good.