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Purpose [a poem]



unhappy black hiker sitting on ground in forest

Tired and fagged I staggered, struggling to support myself, my weight suddenly too much for my feet to fake fit.

Gradually I gave up, hitting the floor hard with my gluttus, too tired to reach for the floor gently.

Perspiration permeated my innermost pros, caressing my skin like a new found comfortable camp, raising the height of the discomfort I already felt.

Foolishly I had fled, figuratively fast tracking my lute even though not certain how far fetched it feathered.

Futher and further I flew, the more I looked the less I saw.

The grill of the birds were beginning to echoe, ideas far fetched yet, my strength remained eluded.

Glued to a point I waited, ready for darkness to invade me, then the voice of the stranger sprang forth.

A strange man with a strange countenance yet, his helping hand extended.

A glare of hope, what I called it. For what is worth, I was gladdened. I had learnt the hard way to never look down on the importance of “purpose”!

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  1. Suma Reddy

    July 14, 2021 at 10:12 am

    Deep meaning in each word. Great write up.

    • Dera

      July 14, 2021 at 11:06 am

      Thank you dear

  2. ViKtorsobe

    July 14, 2021 at 6:07 pm

    You captures clearly my state .
    A weak body maybe but purpose is strong and hope will sustain.

    Thank you so much Dera the dearie.

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Guest post

Black Child [a poem]




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

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]




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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Grateful heart [a poem]




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
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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