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Poetry

The protege [a poem]

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delighted black father reading book to positive daughter

Looking back, the memories flash, and then flood like an endless dam. I smile as the thoughts become clearer and the memories invade me, the sweetest of feelings.

The memory of my little self in your warm embrace, your strong arms holding me to place so I don’t fall to the floor.

The highlight of the days, the times when I made the wet sandy floor my bed, rolling myself in it in the course of my countless plays with fellow kids.

The care with which you washed me up and clothed me in a neat fresh linen.

The countless times you bought textbooks and hired private tutors to help me build my academic prowess.

The countless novels you bought, simply because I asked you to. The numerous ones you got without being asked because you realized that I had grown to like reading them.

How you would always call me to give me the novels each time you got them. How you would always inform me whenever you got a new newspaper, for we have become reading partners.

The smile on your face whenever I bring you a new novel I had bought or found in the house. The love for stories, the passion for reading and analysing fictions, one that I have inherited and polished via your indirect tutorship. I have become your protege!

Dedicated to my lovely dad. Happy father’s day to every man out there!

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7 Comments

7 Comments

  1. Hertz

    June 20, 2021 at 9:17 pm

    Fantastico

  2. GraceoftheSun

    June 20, 2021 at 9:42 pm

    ❤️❤️❤️

  3. JNMIKE

    June 21, 2021 at 5:13 am

    Thank you my dear. Lemme go and start reasoning how to become an interesting Dad🙂

  4. Hannah

    June 21, 2021 at 8:30 am

    Nice

  5. Vicky buchi

    June 22, 2021 at 4:49 pm

    interesting

  6. ViKtorsobe

    July 5, 2021 at 8:32 pm

    Waaw , such a Dad, such a lover of prints .
    No wonder so great you have become Dera.

    • Dera

      July 5, 2021 at 8:36 pm

      Smiles
      Thank you dear

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Guest post

Black Child [a poem]

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By Akuoma Ezeaku/ Featured contributor

Black child!
Sloppy valleys, rocky mountains
Lush bushlands, flowing fountains
Here animals find their home
So diverse, yet mix and roam
The sun towers above them all
Sending rays to the big and small
The benevolence of the Creator
To the black continent
For the black child

Thou, a goddess of melanin
Your wooly, kinky hair fits in
To the perfect embodiment
Of zeal! power! and such great strength
So why?
This feeling?
Of inferiority?
Why trade your gold and become a nonetity

Dream!
Whatever it may be
You can reach the highest hill
Can’t you see?
Grow beyond your need
And take all the lead
Dear black child, your dreams are valid.

Author: Akuoma Ezeaku is a Christian, a final year Medical student and an embodiment of poetic prowess. This is her first publication.

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Guest post

A dim but a hope [a poem]

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By Victor S. Ugwu /Featured contributor

This is the time to be young.
Yes,this time to be strong.
For this time is long.
How unsung and to the end swung.
But what is wrong?


Hope for the young is the song he sung.
Loud it was like a gong.
It was sung by tongue.
Like his dreams will sunk.
Ideas so big for hung.
His dreams now slung.
They always ask what do you bring?
Also said he is not among.
But his lung just says I am strong.
And his dreams they wrung cannot dung.

It is sad, the country is bad.
His card in the game is hard.
Even the ads they show is hard.
The guards, yes, the body guard, is loosegaurd.
In a state where our guide is bad.
He is glad, he is still a lad.
Though will pad but not mad.
Will pass by Chad and use a brad.
He will not be a cad nor only pad.
He not only will fad but be clad.
To his dad, he is an acad and a grad.
So God forbad that he is a lost brand.

Then he use the cleche “WE MOVE”.
It’s not easy but he grooves.
He is a youth and must improve.
The hope they remove he disapprove.
Needless to say they abuse.
His dreams they put under the hooves.
Behoove youve got to improve.
If only they reprove than disprove.
He is young and of a truth “WE MOVE”.

Author Bio

Victor S. Ugwu is a medical Doctor by profession, and an ardent lover of knowledge. He has written some clips in the past but this is his first publication.

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Poetry

Grateful heart [a poem]

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woman surrounded by sunflowers raising hand

Strolling down the street of scrutiny
I could barely breathe,
Choking sensations crawling down my throat.

The thoughts of the events of the past
The thoughts of the likely events of the future

The thoughts of the results I desire,
The thoughts of how dwindling it’s becoming

The continuous prove that I have little or no control,
The continuously diminishing self confidence.

The gloomy face I wear
as I give up,
Knowing my strength has failed me.

Then the day comes,
The moment we have been waiting for.

We gather with fear and trembling,
Expecting the worst.

Then came the shock
The news of our success
The prove that the Lord has helped us

I starred at the result
Not sure how to react,
Mixed feelings everywhere

Joyful noises
Screams
Tears of joy
Overflowing like a river bank.

One thing became clear
It’s not of him than willeth
Nor of him that runneth
But of the lord that showeth mercy!

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