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Her flapping wings ceased the troubled storm,
The ant of the dwarf looks like an Iroko.
Toweling my ego towards her fixed feelings
She penned her pride just perfectly to me;
The raw prettiness that bleeds her feminity.
Alas! The market of her soul harboured many men.


Can I still make my smile worthy when I 
trade with the undiluted laughter of her face?
I took broken mirror to see the beauty of her face,
I saw more beauty as I watched through!
The pieces of her face are intact not broken,
More image trailing down my blood to heal.


Who is she to the whitish waving sky?
Who birthed her tempting long nose?
Her tribal marks painted our cultural heritage,
Her buttocks a symbol of national identity.
Who is she to the generous sun in the sky?
Maybe Amadioha can explain the beauty behind
Her voice.


Okaigbo the palmwine tapper made a mistake,
A mistake about his calculation of her teeth.
Her creamy colour blind so many to smile,
She made me rethink of the images I touched
Through the broken face of the living mirror.
Who is she that makes men loose their senses?


Who is she among the Maidens of Nkporo?
Her pictures against my shoulder clarifies!
I pours down joy within as she passes by,
Can someone tell me who that bird is here?
Aja, haven't you seen that peacock before?
Her eyes tear through my fibre of Grace to ruin.


Who is she to the shy stars that shines up?
Who is she to the painted winds that passesby?
Is she among the salt of Nkporo land?
Is she the light of the earth or a jewel of hope?
Is she your wife or a eye deceiver sent to kill?
Who is she to you oh earth that you hide excitedly?


(C) John Chizoba Vincent
      Voice Of Vincent 2016

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