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Best Poems Written by Chris Agbiti

Below are the all-time best Chris Agbiti poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Chris Agbiti Poem

The Puppet Game I Play

THE PUPPET GAME I PLAY

When you are imbued with the uncanny ability
Wherein you can see beyond the shout of hosanna
To the dormant volcano 
Of agitation, smouldering "crucify him" 
Yet lurking within the inner recess of the well-wishers, 
A great gift you already have.

When you can see through the veil of "there is no problem" Mouthed to you from them in your inner circles, 
To behold the unspoken maledictions against you,
Seethingly seated in their outwardly bedecked sepulchre 
Called the hearts, 
A great gift you already have.

When you are so gifted,
All with these knowledge of the desperate animal called man,
And you were me, 
A puppeteer you'd better become
To play the puppetry.

The Puppetry of the very ones 
Whose shout of hosanna is but a re-echoing sound of their malediction; 
Whose mouthing of "no problem" is but a heap of evil desires Deceptively interred in the sepulchre of their hearts.

Against such, offer no sacrifice of sincerity,
For a pearl counts but no sacrifice to a swine
But play the puppet of them 
And bother not whereth comes the resource,
For their evil but hidden desires have already hoisted them 
On a petard for the Puppetmaster's show.

Details | Chris Agbiti Poem

Travail of Owailo

In the dead of night,
I heard the cry of agony;
A shrill cry it was, 
But a faint cry,
As of a heart fainting of strength.

It oozed out in a steady stream
Of soul-rending shrill
As of unending wail and groan
From a house lately frequented by the grim reaper.

"Owailo", mother had muttered in education,
Was wallowing in travail!
Her own slice of cross 
she must bear,
Of the divine curse
Of  travail appointed  
To all eves.

Owailo travails unto death!
The divine malediction of travail
Becomes for Owailo, 
The inevitable appointment with death
For her offspring she must never behold
Even as the offspring lives.

Oh hapless Owailo! 
The ill-fated reptile of the shrubbery,
Who else has beheld your fate
To plead your cause before the Law Giver
Before whom mercy and grace abound?

THOUGHT OUT BY
CHRIS EDACHE AGBITI, ESQ

Details | Chris Agbiti Poem

The Travail of Owailo

In the dead of night,
I heard the cry of death;
A shrill cry it was, 
But a faint cry,
As of a heart fainting of strength.

It oozed out in a steady stream
Of soul-rending shrill
As of unending wail and groan
From a house lately frequented by the grim reaper.

"Owailo", mother had muttered in education,
Was in travail!
Her own slice of cross she must bear,
Of the divine curse of  travail appointed  
To all eves.

Owailo travails unto death!
The divine malediction of travail
Becomes for Owailo, 
The inevitable appointment with death
For her offspring she must never behold
Even as the offspring lives.

Oh hapless Owailo! 
The ill-fated reptile of the shrubbery,
Who else has beheld your fate
To plead your cause before the Law Giver
Before whom mercy and grace abound?

Details | Chris Agbiti Poem

The Amazing Find

‘Oh God the provider,’   
My voice re-echoed back to me
In the dead of the night
As I went on my knees in supplication
To present my petition
To the Great Provider.

Even in my innocence,
I besought Him,
My better half to provide
To meet the attributes I’d supplied,
Ignorantly unaware that the attributes
Best suited to me are in Him to give.

Now as I lie still
In meditation,
And behold His responses to my supplications,
I cannot but marvel
That though, wrongly I asked,
Yet my desires He rightly supplied.

And I wondered still:
How could this be,
Seeing that I asked amiss:
For the attributes were not I to give?
And I heard a gentle but still voice, saying,
It is the Amazing Grace.

Details | Chris Agbiti Poem

The Matriarchal Love Protest

THE MATRIARCHAL LOVE PROTEST

On such a time as this, 
When the faithful air 
In the cupid enclave
Becomes vulnerable 
To the fouling presence
Of the all intrusive diffusion
Of the strange breath of the foreign god; 
When the dreaded local deities
Could no longer curb the patriarchal excesses
Of the men; 
When the regulatory safeguard 
Of patriarchy is wantonly let loosed, 
The big masquerade, who hitherto had been in her full elements of shamefacedness, leaves the background, 
To claim her territory in forewarning 
To the accompanying goddesses 
In the temple of the visiting cupid god of Valentine.

Chris E. Agbiti, Esq.