Poetry May 15, 2015

first_imgEbola, go awayBy Lekpele NyamalonYour time is up!You’re a stranger, an enemyLeave this space and go awayYour venom has struckBringing down pillars, built for yearsTearing apart men and women of courageDigging beneath the depths of painBut, where is your strength?To rip to shreds the flesh?That even a spin can send to rest?Can you break the strength of united hearts?And bruise the will of a silent hero?No, no you’re just another thugRoaming aimlessly like an armed banditYou’re a loser a lone travelerLost in the tropical rainforestGet out of here and go away!Run back to where your comfort lies!And what is your name? Ebola?You don’t even have a nameYou’re remembered after some riverCuz, no one even cared about youLeave the corridors of foya marketAnd vanish from the slums of west point and watersideYou chose the wrong targetWhose courage is stronger than steel’s backAnd strength to blow away your venomLost in our resolve as a peopleShot in the leg by our patriotismYour mission has failed, go awayYour target was missed, go awayThose men you took are smiling from above, resting in peaceYou took them to a better place, go awayGo to the belly of tiny fruit batsAnd slam your face in shame, beating yourself with hate‘21days’ is your strength of timeAnd we live on foreverEbola, go away.Meditations on My Birthday MorningBy Charles G. Tiah-LAWIt took about five years to remake this manToo many of me burned in the smith’s hearthAnd the ego cut off in MIGHTY POTTER’s PALMMaking my strength to transform to inner mightThe first beatitude should we inherit Earth     For Christ himself on the mount to us had said  Though my craving is not for world’s wealthSo for Christ pleasures traded and call them deadTwenty Ninety Years I Live Till This May 6Through failures and gains, through loss to GODGrave sins of a self-ruled life full of mistakesBut His grace had me made it through it allWho cares when you hurt and blood gushes from withinDo they know how many nights of opened eyes you had?The crabbing me down, AND the stabs helped made meBad times don’t even matter when God hears our cry?Battles are not won if one has not gone to wars?A Life of persevering endurance gets championshipHow are we addressing it?  Through talk shows and callsAimed at unfeeling people detached from commoners’ hardships?I learned that there are marital challenges when one looks outsideI feel the government’s heart break struck by blows of hypocrisiesSome of these lessons crushed-Sirleaf may have just realizedTheming the Iron Heroine’s Tragedy as delayed response and leniencyHow do we address these three: Friendships, Hardships, and Enemyships?At 29 my life has written a 19 chaptered-story featuring these minor charactersThe raising action marked helpless sleeps and drowsy days. And a struck heart too.But Christ in us makes all the difference………….Scars of a tired nationBy Lekpele NyamalonWhat more can a country take?Stories of children that can’t live in peaceTreating each other like strangers from afarThe sons returning and the ones they metFighting for a space left by Mama1980-panic splashed upon the face of Africa’s oldest childBringing down the walls a century highBuilding another 100ft higherShaking to shreds young old mamaPromising her a lie to leave her aloneWhat a tired country she has becomeStanding alone on a continent she blossomedLeft alone by countries she led to IndependenceA troubled house is always lonelySuch a land she stands to beHer place in history forgotten by men of timeLeft to maggots and bugs to chewAnd spit into history’s shredderHer prints erased from the archives of Africa’s glossaryAnd left to wander- gathering crumbsCouldn’t her sons keep her diaryOf how generous a home she hadGiving a shelter for Africa’s neglected,Spewing hope into a lifeless continentDoomed by colonialism and whisked by fear?She went in shock and comatoseFor 14years her eyes couldn’t blink nor winkOnly ears of thunder and terrorWith a sigh of relief to live againHer candle is lit in a thunderstormThe scars of a tired nation are eating up againThe face of EBOLA shatters the dreamTo put together a wretched, lonely lifeCould this scar flip into a star?And shine forever?Share this:Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)last_img

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