SOMEWHERE IN SOUTHEAST BY UNDILUTED POETRY

By -

SOMEWHERE IN SOUTHEAST 
. 
. 
This isn't a poem 
It's the chronicles of a nation's chronic disease 
. 
These lines are oceans of tears in a mother's eyes 
How her home became a test-room for guns 
Where death breaths his last breathe 
And how it embraces the life of a brother 
Turning his soul to a matter without space 
Emptying his fullness to fill the ground 
That mocked his strength 
When he lost to freedom 
. 
Did you see how the sun 
Displayed her nakedness on the body of women? 
How the ground swallowed their pride 
Choking them with broken memories 
Breaking them into parts that part with existence 
For, how can a mother live 
When death took away her life in her eyes? 
. 
This isn't a poem 
It's the scene of a brother in the pool of his own blood 
. 
They said freedom is the only way 
To set a man free, and give him his dreams 
But how can a man be in bondage in his father's house, 
Where his life became a book with different pages? 
I read it in father's eyes, when his brothers 
Took his blood in their hands 
That, there's only one way to hold unity-by standing as one 
. 
Have you not heard, 
That war isn't a trophy to be won? 
For with victory sometimes comes defeat 
You don't throw stones, when you know 
It would find its way to your sister's head 
You don't bid your mother goodbye 
When you don't know the route to your mouth 
. 
This isn't a poem 
It's the tale of a nation against herself 
. 
Somewhere in southeast 
Is a boy on the street of survivors 
With daggers and spears, fighting his brother 
He said, he wants to be a man 
When men are not made by swords 
But, do you say he's naive 
For wanting to be his home-god 
By walking in the shoe of the brave? 
. 
Somewhere in southeast 
Is death gambling with the soul of men 
playing tricks with their future 
That there is honour in dying at war 
Maybe they weren't told 
. 
Freedom is a state of mind, it doesn't set free 
You live again, by fighting for generations 
. 
This isn't a poem 
It's the voice of home 
Calling a nation, back to her root 
. 
. 
© Olabisi Abiodun Akinwale 
Undiluted Poet 
#UndilutedPoetry

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

POETRY INVOICE ON A TALK WITH PRECIOUS PEN

By -
Image
Welcome to today's Section of interview. I am Adeniran Joseph, with me I have a female prolific writer. Her pen bleeds an ink of purity and humanity. Hence the interview begins!!  INTERVIEW SECTION Can you do a brief introduction about yourself? My name is Precious Osikha popularly known as Precious Pen. A simple and enterprising young lady. I am a Legal Practitioner, Writer,  Blogger, Entertainer, Facial Model, an aspiring OAP and Author. I hail from Owan East Local Government Area of Edo State. Had my Primary and Secondary school in Benin, graduated from the prestigious faculty of Law Ambrose Alli University and proceeded to Nigerian Law School Abuja and served at Anambra State. Good. What motivated you into writing? Well, when I was as a very young girl I had a flare for Entertainment. I watched movies and I had some experiences. Each time i went through any of these I always picked up my pen and paper to note them down. I loved novels too. So i also wanted to try ou...
Feed more.

POETRY INVOICE ON A TALK WITH FRANCIS SALAKO

By -
Image
WELCOME for today's INTERVIEW SECTION. I'm Judiasky, the HOST for today, & I'm in with my wonderful GUEST. H: we are happy to have you here sir. Can you please give a brief intro about yourself? G: Thank you very much. My name is Oluwapelumi Francis Salako H: Can you tell us what you do for a living, sir? G: I am a student of history and International studies at the University of Ilorin. I basically write to support myself. H: Wow! you write to support yourself. I love that!. In details, can you tell us what made you a writer, except to support yourself which we minnow already? G: We all know that gift and talent aren't that hard to deal with... OR DO YOU FIND WRITING VERY HARD?. Well. Writing for me happen to occur as a gift enforced by the passion. Having the gift of writing does still not erase all of the mental stress and anxiety. It's nearly all of the same process. H: Wow! but on the contrary, what makes it hard, for you hence its a gift and gift a...
Feed more.

SURVIVAL[FICTION] BY CHUKWUEBUKA HARRISON ANINZE

By -
Image
# FICTION # SURVIVAL ========== “I can’t just stand here and watch you die,” Nkechi said, her voice laced with deep emotions. “I must go and find help.” There on the floor, in the small hut, was her dying mother, shivering. She had been like this some days now, but now it seemed to be getting worse. The lamp that sat at the center of the hut, lighted the room poorly, but was enough to make the beads of silvery sweat on her mother’s face shimmered. “My daughter!” her mother called, her voice lowering into something like a whisper. “What kind of help do you mean?” Ever since her father died mysteriously, she and her mother had lived like strangers in the village. People heard and believed a lot of lies about them. Some believed that her mother had used her witchcraft on her father, while some believed that the gods of their land had placed a curse on them. There were recent cases of goat disappearances at the time and the Chief priest with the consent of the King had placed a cur...
Feed more.