Talk to Chika Victor Onyenezi on the Fictionville blog
Parcels of love is all I found
For Adaure to endure
Packet of sweet words
Painstakingly packed
Waiting for the moon to come
The master releases his strokes
Alluring
Tempting
Several sounds of madrigal
Our tryst on the murk's of life
Our silent trip to the hills of life
Till hitherto
I still love Adaure.
16 broomsticks
Arranged orderly in rows
Straight single sticks
That's all he left.
There are more than we thought
In his tools left
Many years of sweeping
Through thoughts and minds
He left it in his sanctum,
Under that old bed
On the eve of January 2000
I metamorphosed into an archeologist
Digging earth in turn
“Here”
The earth swung his incest,
My in heritance lay before me
As strong as a writers pen,
This Mongo Park mission inspired me
I have my inheritance
16 broomsticks.
On the day of transition
My television refused to on
Shedding tears I guessed
From smoke to fire
Epoch of thorns
Time whispering aloud
“Rescue
Me from history”
Terrain fluctuating
Insecurity dancing on tops my car
Gun clapping in delta
Spreading long range bullets
Too hot for citizens
“On the day of transition…”
I guess we are burning in war.