"Christmas in Gaza"

 "Christmas in Gaza"

Look beyond the prejudice in the news reports

And see our little peaceful town 

Caught in a whirlwind of blasting bombs and chattering guns.

Look there, 

a young mother with an amputated arm wails over her dead two year old

Caught by a bullet shot with precision.

Our streets are littered with the breathless heaps of our young men,

Fighting to repel a blind ravaging bull.

Our old men weld machine guns,

with their near-to-dead sights.

Blinded by both rage and age.

Fighter Jets fly over heads

Heading for our abandoned homes.

They open their dark anus

And empty their waste on our homes

Turning everything dear to rubbles.

The sick, 

The wounded, 

And the maimed litter our refugee camps

But there is no physician to tend a plagued nation 

Our physicians are now fighters.

"The war must be won!" they say.

I miss the serenity of the nights spent at home,

I miss the bedtime stories and the peaceful renditions of prayers to Allah,

I miss the excitement of our playgrounds,

I miss the clattering of cutleries on plates filled with delicious meals,

I miss the peace we shared with all its colourful forms,

Before this strange night cast its haunting shadows on us.

Dedicated to all the people of Gaza. I pray the war ends soon

© Poetry

©Emeka Collins

"She is"

 "She is"

The earth is blind.

I must say that the earth chose to be blind.

Because how can anyone not see how she toils away at her task?

Morning, afternoon, and even at night.

Was it nature or men that tossed it on her?

Because she seems so peaceful in her storm.

With the rising sun, she sets out

Like the mother hen to search for daily bread.

Many said she has a lazy head

Who depends on the crumbs from her troubles.

While he folds his hands in his chest

And makes jest of her with his friends.

Morning, afternoon and night

She toils away at her task.

Hoping and praying that fortune would smile back at her.

And ease the weight on her shoulders which weighs heavily on her.

She manages to smile through her pains,

For daily she has to wear this mask.

The hope of a mother is in her labour

Like a patient farmer 

She sows her seeds at all season

She guards it to ensure that none is missing.

For everything giving to her by God

Both Woes and worth

Nothing should be missing

Even when they might not miss her when she is gone. 

"The Poem and the Poet"

 "The Poem and the Poet"

I wrote you a poem.

Yes, I wrote you a poem

It was neither to mourn you

Or call you.

But to announce my retracing steps back to my shell.

Where I once was till your beauty wooed me.

I ran leaving my senses aside

But bearing burning emotions in my heart.

It was tender. 

It needed to be tended. But it died in the heat of neglect.

"Believe Love"

 "Believe Love" 

I could sing you a million melodies,

Of where our hearts met,

Through the rough roads of unrequited love

To a place where we sits gracefully on a throne: the thrones of our hearts. 

Your face shone through the unwavering shadows,

To kill this darkness that held my soul captive.

It wasn't freedom at last

But freedom that will last through this new found joy to eternity

Where we will at last know love without doubts.