NGOZI OLIVIA OSUOHA - POEMS

Ngozi Olivia Osuoha is a young Nigerian poet/ writer and a graduate of Estate Management. She has some experience in banking and broadcasting. She has published some works abroad in some foreign magazines in Ghana, Liberia, India and Canada, among others. She enjoys writing.

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                 TERROISM THE MIS-CREED OF RELIGION
 

Bonded and yoked partisan
Free, yet enslaved fanatic
Flying a cursed route
Treading a forbidden zone,
Preaching a serpentine gospel
Terrorism, the mis-creed of religion.
 
Devoted and arrested 'religioner'
Dedicated, committed enthusiast
Ardent, faithful loyalist
Ready, gallant spy
Brave, deceitful viper
Terrorism, mis-creed of religion.
 
The oracle of missiles
The brother of rockets,
The priest of gun
The saint of death
The god of destruction
Terrorism, mis-creed of religion.
 
The son of torture
The bread of war
The signature of bombs
The agreement of weapons,
The revival of doom
Terrorism, mis-creed of religion.
 
Bulletproof his organ
Virgins are worried,
Tick tock, the blast
Heaven is agog
Let the merry begin,
Terrorism, mis-creed of religion.
 
The peak of righteousness
Heritage divine, destiny fulfilled
Baton of peace, marathon of light
To God be the glory
Onward, forward ever
Terrorism, mis-creed of religion.
 
 
           JUNGLE JUSTICE A THORN IN THE HEART
 

Yells, voices, clubs, crowd
Condemnations, chants, choruses
Harsh chase, fierce search
Rods, irons, matchets, weapons
Tyres, fuel, the rage to burn
The anxiety to put to death
Mobocracy, a thorn on humanity.
 
Some not guilty nor proven
Some either to be jailed or fined
Some either cautioned or gainfully employed,
Some not to die
Some no evidence, mere speculation
Some, a malicious rumour
Some, envy, scandals and gossips
A lot, no reasonable facts
Hidden truths, undisclosed deals
Unknown lies, a trail of vengeance
Jungle justice, shadow of inhumanity.
 
A common dish to strangers
A dirty garment for visitors,
A note of hate and bitterness
Alien to love and unity
Jungle justice, a barren field.
 
Mobocracy, a cruel zeal
A harsh treatment and intolerance
A basin of soured dinner
A tree of fruitless branches
An epidemic, a xenophobia
Jungle justice, injustice to mankind.
 
Superstition and ignorance
Tradition and culture
Religion and belief
Rivalry and opposition,
Not too holy a mob
Seizing, ceasing the hands of time
Inflicting pain and perpertual agony,
All, a box of rags
Wisdom turns it a coat of many colours.
 
 
Back, home the trauma boils
Old parents go insane
Hopeful siblings waiting a nurture
Wretched home searching for pasture,
Innocent family praying for future
Relatives needing a gesture
Community abhoring the vulture
Mobocracy, the enemy of justice
A thorn in the heart of the world.



                                 RAISE THE GIRL
 
​
There is a star in her
It must shine
There is a land somewhere
She will make fine,
Needless being a concubine
Help her reach there.
 
If she dies young
We would lose her song,
If she goes mad
We would feel sad
So let us make her strong
For us to live long
And barnish wrong.
 
Raise the girl, big
Lest she turns a pig
Burn not her wig
Help her discover and dig
Show her the gold
Too, make her bold
Warm her, not to be cold
Teach the girl sanity
Uphold her integrity
Cherish her dignity,
Raise the girl
Raise the child,
Lift the world.