By Ogwiji Ehi

Last night, I was scribbling-

strolling my muse down a lone paper,

when I heard Death’s sour quibbling,

as she stood in the street corners of life:

staring in blatant disgust and wondering,

why breath lingers in dead nostrils,

whose nose perceive none of life’s thrills

My muse towed my soul to the edge of life’s cliff

where I saw the lonely monument of an oldie

telling a story in its engraved words: “Pa Eddie:

The ol’ man who died young”

Once, he was a lucky lanky lad

who saw himself morph into a cranky old man

that never learnt, that life’s like cold water

on hot coals, twill heat up and someday boil

In failing and falling oft, boiled his life,

till he fell in love with his trough

and gave up efforts to climb to the crest;

Only leaving his life on the bare thighs of fate

hoping that it suckles fortune from her nips

Daily, his heart did beat, but like a talking drum

plagued with a terrible case of dumbness,

no thirsty ear sipped its rhythmic sweetness.

A mess of loads (of anger) and (sad) efforts he was,

no fulcrum!

He lost his grip on life, existence dragged him to old age

and when death met him; he was more of grain than chaff

for the winnowing winds of life lost his address, long ago


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