Alexander Onoja

To him who strolled round ancient gates,
in darkness, sun or rain he waits.
Standing with ambition ready to serve,
with his ever ready phrase to calm his nerve.
...

Just as we sat watch'n the rain drizzle,
ideas of June has ceased; give way to July.
Little children stood watch'n the birds whistle,
but under their roof, their hearts mostly rely.
...

Tribute to the Asian bird,
gleaming black with a yellowish green bill.
Dotted and bared with white, and eyes red,
flies when the air is lovely and still.
...

If wishes were horses,
not only beggars, i too would ride.
If it were a river, i would flow with the tide.
When mom left, i was little,
...

Twas a day after our eighteenth,
sitting i, shaking cobwebs of sleep,
with my thoughts in a ditch so deep.
...

Hello fear, what is it was told?
Walking this road that's makes me fear,
seeing as secrets unfold,
wild wind makes the afternoon cold,
...

There are still kids on the street,
sleeping undernourished beside gutters.
With grim faces from summer's heat,
sprawled in the dust beside dumpsters.
...

Oh Chameleon!
I hail thou reptilian nature spy,
with an elastic sticky tongue,
always ready to catch a passing fly,
...

Right from birth, he was a gambler,
either he dies or his mom.
With the doctor act'n as the dealer,
that was the best bet he'd won.
...

Was 12 when mom left,
when i say left, i meant she died.
To death's ignorance or theft,
was even surpris'd HE cried.
...

He's a man of honour,
aged but bursting with humour.
He don't deserve a word but phrases,
the one who put smile on our faces.
...

I woke up and saw me-self in chains,
with new cloths, food, and bed.
A swollen face, my body full of pains,
and swollen lips that bled.
...

'If you are not too elusive, please recall,
when you were a child, cold in me arms you were enfolded.
You were little, still learn'n to crawl,
you were so brave, you don't fret when scolded.
...

The sisters are in with'n the house,
try'n to fit in mother's blouse.
The youngest won't smile, the eldest tries,
they are two sisters of same race.
...

Ode was his name, he was called the Goblin,
his fangs too sharp runs down his lips.
Awaken'd by a witch from his coffin,
he believes he has the world at his finger tips.
...

PART 1

She lives in Salem,
ugly, painted-ecstatic sweet.
...

Immeasurable distance fills my soul with grief,
wilt thou oh Aunty for ever sleep?
Death being a coward, came as a thief,
and causeth a family to weep.
...

The act of losing is called failure,
but one worst kind of failure is losing a friend.
The act of loving is a good gesture,
but the worst kind of friends are those who pretend.
...

Its six o'clock says the evening bell,
Priests walk by isle of burning candle lights.
Its unfathomable how their whispered words can't tell,
the reason the Bishop is out of sights.
...

Sheltered from the rain, under the broom tree,
sat the weeping and fleeing Elijah.
Scared that Jezebel would fulfil her vows,
as the rain and tears drew lines beneath his brows.
...