Total Pageviews



The past is a corpse
Double bottoms-oozing stems
Troubling calls of tormenting pause,
Like stitched layers of an aborted cocoyam.

The grave is behind every soul
Scribbling epitaphs on our minds-
We can't tell where stand our poles
We can't sort the distance of our minds.

They buried strangers in one pit
Shy strangers of their own identity-
Soaking their screams in one sheet
Strangers lost in mental pity.

My mind has conquered my doubts
Everyday, I converse with my spirit,
For today, my hope still tread through this farm-
Awaiting the naming ceremony of the yam barn.

©Copyright:- Moses Chibueze Opara aka Mr. Humility
(A Nigerian poet and poetry analyst)





Huge Income Via Native Ads [Adnow]

Join The Best Adsense Alternative [Revenuehits]

Earn More Than 10% In Referral Revenue [Infolinks]

Get 5% From Publishers’ Revenue You Refer [Infolinks]

10% lifetime revshare from your referred members earnings[PopMyAds]

Easy Way To Receive Or Send Money[Skrill]

Quick Approval Native Ads Network[PayClick]

Earn While You Snore [Exoclick]


Popular posts from this blog

Analysis Of Piano And Drums By Gabriel Okara

Discuss The Blood Of A Stranger By Dele Charley As A Tragedy [NECO June/July 2016]

Themes Of The Panic Of Growing Older By Lenrie Peters