nice poems

Thursday, February 11, 2016

WHAT WOULD YOU DO?(a poem by Sunsampaul Egwu)

What would you do,
If you open your door
And find death standing attention in front.
Death just like a thief,
Comes to behead the chief.
Death came piercing with his sword,
Taking souls out of this world.
Like the wind, it gets to everywhere.
No one has the chance to run anywhere.

What would you do,
If you close your eyes
And find them unable to open.
Death came on a foggy night,
Strangled grandpa on cold blood.
The scene shocked us
And tears like flood
Rolled down our cheek.
He suffered from excruciating pains,
He pleaded, but death said 'it's not needed.'

What would you do,
If you were visited
By the salutation of death.
I taught you're meant for gaffers
Until you poisoned my beloved sister
In the pool of blood.
She breathed her last,
In shock I stammered,
Speechless and blameless I was,
She was an innocent girl of Four.
Then I realize you are not for gaffers alone.

What would you do,
If you open your dish to dine
And you saw the inscription 'death' on your piece of meat.
Death has no break light,
Not even a traffic jam,
He comes uninvited.
Death comes in blue, yellow and green light.
He comes with dread
Showing the sign of red light.
Then you'll wonder who is his next line.

What would you do,
If in a year, death galloped in your vicinity thrice
Will you fast or cry? Will you run or pray?
Will you use a spray?
Will you even joke and play?
Will you tell him to stay?
Will you plead and pay?
Will you have a word to say?
Death is a punctured killer,
He comes with punches to punch,
He punctured and tortured,
Daddy passed through his test and failed,
Death took him to a tour in haste.

What would you do,
If death decide to play a scrabble with you as game,
He came with an ugly smile again.
He smiled on dad's friend, my mentor with fame.
He took away my joy,
As if dad wasn't enough for him drain.
He drugged my mentor,
I'm in pains.
The shock pierced my heart,
I was downtrodden, pale and ill.

What would you do,
If death gives you a handshake.
Will you turn it down, and face his wrath?
Will you accept it, and trade his path?
Will you plead, and lie on his mat.
Will you run without looking back.
Death can suck your succulent breast.
Death dances to the rhythm of his own tune.
Death is a respecter of no man.
Death has bitten more than he can chew.

#Sunsampaul d Philosopher

FULL OF STRENGHT by Sunsampaul Egwu


To the ones whose creeks were stained,
Food were drained,
Dehydration swallowed their lungs,
Poverty telegraphing in their midst,
Care they didn't meet,
Cholera vomiting  grotesque dust of bad health on them.
Yet they dodge the punches of death,
To them I say F.O.S.

To those whose minds were raped,
By the boom boom sound of boko's alarm.
Their heart bleeds,
Splitting and tearing their bodies apart,
Paralyzed on hospital bed,
They were caressed by the cold hand of coma.
Yet death withdrew its from them.
To them I say F.O.S.

To my brothers, your brothers
My sisters, your sisters
Who catapulted themselves,
In the war front like Urial.
Aliens tormented them,
Cold raped their minds,
Fear kissed them,
But the sun smiled at them.
And death made way for them.
To them I say F.O.S.

To the ones who were visited by HIV,
AIDS came climbing with no aid.
This virus sang dirge to their health,
This virus they couldn't bribe with wealth,
Tested, the result blinks positive,
This virus has come like a thief,
But the lord breath on them,
And the result turns negative.
To them I say F.O.S.

To my mother, your mother,
My father, your father
Who eat the cramp in the damp,
Working tooth and nail, sleeping in the camp,
Prayed and sang.
Cold battered them,
Harmattan hammers them,
Yet they keep struggling to make sure we survive.
To them I say F.O.S.

To my brethren in the lord,
Who wine and dine in evangelism,
Megaphone now sound system,
Piercing the truth in our system.
They were tortured,
Brutality smashed their faces,
Cains created zebra crossings on their back.
Pathetic persecution travels in their marrow,
But they still see tomorrow.
To them I say F.O.S.

To the innocent ones,
Who were taken by force to prison,
No crime they committed and no reason.
Chains bounded them,
Sack clothes covered them.
Hot iron planted tattoos on their chest,
Starvation weep for them,
They were clustered with dirt,
Yet they didn't tasted death.
To them  I say F.O.S.

To those lasses in campus,
Threatened to be failed by lecturers,
Coz they refuse selling their bodies.
Books installed in their brains,
Brilliancy their gift,
Decency their habit,
Integrity their duty,
Torment from lecturers travelled in their vein,
Yet the still graduated with first class degree.
To them I say F.O.S.

To our brothers in campus
Threatened in full force by cultists,
Tormented to belong,
Yet they refuse to go along.
Their joy lost itself in mistiness,
They were deprived of happiness,
Campus become a dungeon for them,
Yet the stood on their ground, saying no to cultism.
To them I say F.O.S.

To  Africans and our stigma,
Our mark of enthusiasm lost,
Our ship turns cheap,
Leaders turns rulers.
We are now Judged by our complexion not character,
Our hospitals downtrodden,
Schools fallen,
Houses sank,
Famine seen,
Tears rolled down our cheek,
Yet we still live.
To us I say F.O.S.

NB: F.O.S in this poem means Full Of Strength

#Sunsampaul d Philosopher