Celestine Ikwuamaesi Poet Rhyme

In the Days of Noah

Jesus will come again,
like strong wind, sift the grain
    from trash.
Taking the faithful home,
he leaves the rest to roam
    and gnash.

The end for sure is known,
when doubters sulk and moan,
    who cares.
The painful state is real,
too late to plead a deal:
    all scares.
As yet his coming blares,
echoing for one that dares
    to hear.
Like a thief He will come,
while the world struts in scum—
    the smear

of life’s passing pleasure.
In a trove of treasure
    they romp,
mired in a baseless hope
and unrelenting grope
    for pomp.


© 2017 Celestine Ikwuamaesi

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