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Benson Oseghe Poem
After three glasses of memories, I was drunk in deep thought
Staggering through the pavement of my meditation I couldn't help but to think of the land I came from
Where trees bow in submission to the strength of the wind
Where the sea hardly gossip with her land mass and the soil never go thirsty
I come from a land where geographical disasters never visit
Where hatred still sing a love song
cultural heritage still echos in our traditions
Though different tongues yet we speak one language
The language of love
Though different drum sounds yet one dance step
The dance step of unity
A land baptized with peace
A native land,proud to serve
A strong motherland
Lost so many children yet pregnant for more
Scars of boomblast sleeps on her back
Corruption rapes her everynight
but her tears water the field when the sun visit her day
A land wrapped with coat of arms
Skin coloured "green white green"
A land that bring forth offsprings like you and I
Bound in happiness,laughter and countless triumph
A bowl of enthusiastic youth, with hopes and dreams
Talented people
Culture never to be washed away in the sands of time
A land I'm proud to call my own
The place I love to call my home
The soil that birthed marrow into my bone
How I miss the smell of our pride
The mother of our bride
A land impregnated by rich mineral resources
A land of trade and Entrepreneurs
Pages of divers abilities
Kings, queens, princes and princesses
Indeed it's a land of royalty
Beauty bathes the soul of her soil
Hunger stole the lives of many we know
Plane crash ended the destiny of some
Flood swallowed the wealth of others
But these losses drown in the stream of our happiness
For we come from a land where sorrow only comes
To spend the night
So i water my green field
I wave the flag high in the sky
Customise every T-shirt I buy
Compose a song for my land
Paint a nice portrait of her beauty
Go to north east south and west
Make the whole world hear my voice
I paint the walls white and the cities green
For I come from a land called Nigeria
#Benarmani
Copyright © Benson Oseghe | Year Posted 2016
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Benson Oseghe Poem
The bleeding pen
I was born sick and poetry is the ink of my disease
Was born blind but art gave me vision
I am the bleeding pen.
Wounded for my thoughts
Betrayed by my own darkness
Freedom dressed in bondage
I am the bleeding pen.
Crying out for the poor
Banging on heaven's door
Noise dressed in silence
I am the bleeding pen.
Jokes sound tragic
Reality turns magic
Sanity dressed in madness
I am the bleeding pen .
In pain still I rise
Till my fire bring forth ice
My Blood dressed in ink
I am the bleeding pen.
#benarmani(lines&letters)
Copyright © Benson Oseghe | Year Posted 2016
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Benson Oseghe Poem
Breath of inspiration passes through my nostrils
My thoughts have been raped by my imagination
But the height of my understanding is still as short as life itself
So let me climb on this ladder of knowledge in pursuit of wisdom
For no man is ever wise enough for himself
Draw me with my Lines and label me with my letters
Let the anatomy of my ideals come alive
The voice of an artist the voice of a poet
Of what use if creativity is deaf ....
Copyright © Benson Oseghe | Year Posted 2016
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Benson Oseghe Poem
Tick and tock, the travelling footsteps of the clock
Footprints lost in the path of silence as time walks
The poor price a space, the rich buys the place
Truths stay hidden, lies keep bleeding
But everyone gets to die…
Thoughts escorted by tears, realizing my fears
Heaven and hell, don’t know what to tell
The poor stay needy, the rich get greedy
Thirst to succeed and prayers to proceed
But everyone gets to die…
Needs and wants are the only things that keep us going
Dreams turns into nightmares but nightmares never become dreams
Fantasies beclouds our meditations
We dine with infatuations
Even beauty is made of dust
And love sometimes comes from lust
But everyone gets to die…
Leaders parading on the platform of deceit
Even patience cannot wait this long for a change
Promises wait to be broken again
Because déjà vous has come to play
But everyone get to die…
Voracious appetite, today is never enough
So we pray a bigger tomorrow would come
How many wishes
How many fingers still itches
There is time for everything
Even times when everyone gets to die…
#Benarmani(lines&letters)
Foot notes:
I was listening to a song titled ‘everyone gets to die’ by Brymo, and I got inspired to chip in a little poetry from my understanding. Hope you loved it? And thumbs up to Brymo for a wonderful song… Thanks.
Copyright © Benson Oseghe | Year Posted 2016
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