One for the Road. . . To Keep Me Company My love That one? She is a baby when she sleeps And a tiger when she wakes. She is a cat When she walks And a Leopard When she leaps. My love That one? She is innocent

"Particle" I am that molecule lost in ocean of time yet I strive to bestride time. I am that particle buried in a sea of clouds yet I fight to sink all clouds. I am the blind mortal hypo-trapped

"The Muse" the clouds are gathering angry dusts chase the seven hurricanes that scatter them in all ethereal directions vulcanoes are erupting and earthquakes topple the human achievements of

"Night, still" Time is a breathless runner whose footfalls switch days into nights into days into floods of rain of sunrays, into seasons... We wake, now, from that long night of ill omens, of

'I'LL TRAIN MY BOY(S), AND LET SOCIETY TRAIN MY GIRL(S)...' Some years ago, I eavesdropped into a conversation of some young high school boys, presumably my mates, although they seemed quite exposed and

"May Day!" A day of nightmare When termites cease work To reflect on the absurdism Of daily labour and monthly pay That don't add up. May Day! A day of nightmare When the termites line up To

"The Seed" Here was I planted and here must I bear. But if the soil turns rock Or the sun fires flames; if the vultures perch and peck Or the hawks swoop and pounce and I bear not here, Here

"Earth is not Safe" . . . he arms them and sends them as w(r)enching weapons into my life . . . smiling scissors, gorgeous guns and ravaging razors . . . he trains them as paramilitary pageants

"Let me be" There she goes the childless one with none to run her errands There she goes the unmarried one leaning...but no pillar There she goes the promiscuous one the barren husband-snatcher

"Seasons" In earth, our sires sowed and reaped their sweat in season. Now ruined — that earth, from the sheep the lions reap. What becomes of the den, when the sheeps are gone? [Image Source:

@damianjayclay and @nikisteemare proud to bring you a new poetry writing competition. The Kudos Poetry Competition has only TWO rules: We would like to apologise to the steemit community for imposing our

“Sleep” Sleep is when we slip into… and forget who we are where we are what we have… We slip into sleep: the rocky soldier at battle field, the abstracted widow mourning her only child, the spirited helmsman

“CORRUPTION” -i- You are a ten-letter word a virus cast in letters of vice the flesh of a tumor scrawling over our body like a pox. You are the seed transplanted from a foreign land from a garrison of

“Sunrise” Calmly, the sun grows from the East hills, a tendril from a yam heap. Patiently, her rays negotiate for the sky, dissolving the gloom of night sky. We look round and see the sun’s face opening

March 29, 2018 I dedicate this piece to you @damianjayclay: ”On your birthday” I’ll send you not jewels nor cowrie shells which you can lose to bandits; not linen nor Italian shoes which you can lose to

"Song of the Thief" If I steal my neighbour's chick they'll shout aloud my name. If I pinch my wife's pin they'll pin my name on doors. If I steal a whole bank they'll tell the tale with name

@damianjayclay and @nikisteem are proud to bring you a new poetry writing competition The Kudos Short Poem Competition has only three rules: Resteem and give a full upvote to this post. Write a short poem

“Time” I Time exhumes man-buried honour And ploughs up earth-buried woes Time ploughs in old heroes And tills up new stars Time rears impossibilities and ticks possibilities Time sips in each worn world

STACH is a Steem Hotspot in Port Harcourt Nigeria, West Africa. The Hub was created as a means to help young Nigerians have a place they can identify with in terms of exploring and also discovering their

"Power Pun" source:pixabay.com Power to the powerful Power to the popular Poverty to the populace Poverty to the peasants Power to the Pilates Power to the proud Poverty to the people Poverty