Long Nigeria Poems
Long Nigeria Poems. Below are the most popular long Nigeria by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Nigeria poems by poem length and keyword.
The Owelle
of the realm
of Onitsha
their title,
Zik of Africa
Our vintage title.
Zik a real patriot
with core values
your contemporaries
were at the regions
but you dreamt of one
Nigeria at the center
Tribe and tongue in vain.
The Owelle was a champion
a champion of the center
though your ideals were
thawed by your peers
he solidly stood by it
even in the face
of the civil war
One Nigeria! One Nigeria!!
echoes that kept reverberating
One Nigeria! One Nigeria!!
Time and time again your
relevance proven
Turned sounds of Nigeria
relished.
Owelle of Onitsha
Zik of Africa.
(Written on the 30th March, 2015)
In this mess, we called a country, the destroyers lived among
Babangida once terrorized us with Khaki, failures affect all,
Ruled as a tyrant forgetting the future, had power but looted the country,
A mere servant of a few days, served themselves, retired with stolen wealth
Hounded men to the gallows for speaking the truth,
Incensed by the arrogance of Power, impoverished helpless million
Maradona was never a name of honor to the crooks
Bowed his head in shame in Minna,
Afraid of leaving Nigeria where criminals like him are protected
Destruction has not paid off, The Nigeria you destroyed stares at you
Afraid to walk the street they never built, among the people they defrauded
men without vision, stalled a nation, forced together by guns
Obstructers became leaders through guns, greatness now mockery
Systemic failure set in motion, evil genus institutionalized corruption
In this same mess, we called a country.
Babangida, where are all your guns that ruined Nigeria?
Are you happy now, can you walk freely among those killed?
Boneheaded barrack boys took advantage of massive docility
Apprentice without brains, the cynosure of profligates, & fraudsters
Nigeria, ruined beyond recovery as malefactors are emboldened
Generalissimo of morons, bearing arms, looted the gulf proceeds
In the same mess we called a country
Detestable men and fickle fin protected by guns
Afflicted us in Nigeria till this day
The dawn broke with a promise of freedom,
As we arose, our hearts afire with joy;
Oh hoo! The day we'd long anticipated is a mere few hours away,
From the confines of the camp, we'd soon break free to stay.
Nineteen days of patriotic fervour—
we'd recited with zeal,
The dedication anthem which our voices rang out,
and that which our hearts revealed.
The restless days, the early disturbances, and freedom's fleeting grasp,
Would soon give way to the warmth of home,
and love's embracing clasp.
The parade—
a mirror of colour, sound, and motion's sway,
Competitions that tested our mettle, in a spirit of friendly disarray.
The unity of Nigerian cultural diversity—
is a testament to our shared humanity.
In Platoon 3, we stood as one—
a bond forged in the camp.
Our officer, Mr. Rotimi;
and instructors, Officer Funmi (mummy of all);
officer Auta (confidence booster);
Blacq (winner-maker);
You made our camp experience, a memorable, life-changing pursuit.
The camp's memories—a treasure trove
forever we'll never be apart.
My great gees—who made every fleeting moment,
a hilarious, side-splitting treat in hall 4
You're all amazing, a treasure to meet.
The mother of all Corp members in Edo State, Mrs. Ben Ushie;
Major Bala—commandant with strong heart and true;
Camp Director, Mrs. Ejioye; and Mr. Ogbogohdo;
Together you made Okada camp a shining light—
A haven for growth, where hearts take flight.
The calls of ‘Aremo’ on the parade field echo in my mind,
A bittersweet reminder of the bonds we formed
And the memories we left behind.
Let's hold on to love's guiding light
as we disperse and go our separate ways
Create ecstasy always, even in melancholy
Obey the rules and journey on through the year's remaining
Nigeria is ours, Nigeria we serve.
SHOWTIME
Holocaust swivelled at the turn of these events,
Stimulated by the wrath of a country's vent.
Time wasted and extravagantly spent
Until the shape of democracy brutally sees a dent?
New blockbusters; as periodic protagonist election
square-up with the vile villain called selection.
INEC is the man in stripes refereeing,
(the usual suspect of the nations suffering).
Nigeria's centre stage of the world's innocence
And the entire globe is the audience.
Power is like a baby in demand and divinely sent
to be given out to prospective parents.
Who will take custody of the most sort after?
Watch out for the 2023-26 version of Nigeria,
Watch out for court cases and unexpected faces,
especially in Aso Rock and Daily front pages.
Watch out for interim governance;
At the presidential seat, for instance.
All in a journey to a better Nigeria,
greeted by the eruption of mass hysteria,
In fulfilment of God's concealed wisdom.
Corruption grips us tightly but we fight for freedom.
The labour of our heroes past (and present)
shall not be in vain & won't pass but witness
the advent of newness purged by bloodbath
And tirades of a people's wrath.
The late legends: our history book heroes,
#EndSars protest young martyrs who caw as crows
and the present-day youth revolutionist
Shall all eat the fruit of their labour as they enlist
in the fight to realise Rebirth & forsook apathy.
We the New Nigeria activists are the Labour Party???
And our labour will not be in vain ????
The reign of Old Nigeria will finally wane.
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Form: Arkquain Swirl (34 lines poem)
Copyright ©? February, 2023.
If God was a Nigerian
He will live on less than $1.90 per day
While animals, richer, from swallowed millions
He will read about bullion vans in Bourdillon
Or a looter's jewellery worth paying pension
While poverty spank his ass dry
He will mop his sweat under the sun
Voting a 'wheelbarrow empowerment' governor
Or 'Peter the Rock' that dries up accounts
While their aza swell like neglected corpse
He will see the bruised roads in Nigeria
Hospitals with incurable illness
Or sick schools diagnosed with illiteracy
Why? Their allocation ruthlessly pilfered
He will watch clips of a human-bullion van,
Desecrating his babanriga with dollars
And wrestle impurities in the state.
He would have been a poor Nigerian
like my dad or the king of thieves
Like Olusegun Obasanjo
All efforts tabled on Nigeria;
Experiencing a fortunate miscarriage,
Feasting Aso rock- a pizzeria
But never admit it is the cause of this age.
Upon the solid manifesto,
That touches all sectors:
Picturing California's Barstow,
To cajole mandates of the electors.
Finally, all promises are working...
Nigerians are glad to vote SAI BABA.
How beautiful things are shirking!
Yet, we never cease referencing YORUBA's BONOBO.
Now, pebbles tear apart the wall to a lowland.
No sands dare last all days.
Though, the wall can not withstand
The test of time come the apartness of clays.
The crevices in the wall:
Is an awaiting lost of hope;
One day, the wall will surely fall.
Just like acrobats won't last all days on tightrope.
The time is no longer right;
The poor and his rights are wrong,
For there's no one to stand by him.
Those beautiful hearts; pure and young
Have been battered and their loves' lights dim.
Buhari's reign is like what?
Revelation said it well in his whatnot
And if that be the truth,
Should we believe, lazy are all youths?
Why do we fear actions and love words?
If we never mind, our hens can fly like birds
But we keep living in reliving,
The leadership orbiting the Africa GIANT's sun outliving...
The societies expectations--
A reason millions are invested in educations.
When shall we be tired?
To relieve those supposed to have retired.
Just like the withered leaves bring
Blessings unto tree to renew its strength.
The odd flowers introduce the spring
And relinquished fortitude to breath.
The detached withered leaves
That have been laid to rest,
Can never regain life's airfoil
Than enrich the top soil.
What are meant for backups,
Ended up been the beautiful ups.
One thing unsure is the extent of our grieves,
All are mere satisfying best.
Of course, sun shall rise and shines bright on the green lushes,
Blessing nature with its radiant nutritional solar energy.
As the aiding glimmer blushes,
It shall promote unbelievable synergy.
But if nights tarry for long,
Mornings shall come with the healing birdsong...
Youths, light the nights;
Cohorts, best their rest.
Ten nights abound
With bounties in it
The sincerity of worship
And the submission of a slave
Seeking the mercy of his master.
Ten last nights we crave
Like vigilant watchmen
Yearning for one special night
When the mercy of our Lord
Shall majestically descend on the world.
The last ten nights that abound
The words of our prophet resound
To seek Allah in worship
And seek of Him of His blessings.
The last ten nights of Ramadan
Comes with it a new beginning
And a promise of better days ahead.
Our hearts yearn for this night
In the dark hollows we seek light
And in our silence and pains
We stand firm in obeissance
To our Lord who created man and the Jinns
And the tall mountains looking up at the sky
And the silent seas with fishes
And the wild beasts of the forests.
We shall raise our hands
Testifying to His greatness
We shall come to Him empty
For we know we shall not depart unfilled.
Our Lord His merciful
And to Him is our return.
As the last ten nights abound
Let's seek the night of majesty
To rekindle the flames of worship
And bring to Him our burden loads
And our heavy hearts
Hoping that success shall come our paths
For our resting place
Shall be filled with His grace
In company of the prophet
And of those who strived with him.
The last ten Nights
We pray sleep depart our sights
As we yearn for the booties
To carry on our worldly duties
A hundred year is gone,
Suspence still fill the air.
Truly, the signs are with us.
About an exodus?
But no, not a plague of locust,
It's a plague of men.
The people are the disaster
Since naturally we have none.
Arise O compatroits.
To serve our fatherland
What has happened to the song we sing?
Why the irony?
Why tampering on the bond
Of peace and unity?
Why letting vain cause to overthrow
The labours of our heroes past?
O democracy! don't fail us now
O God of creation!
Direct our noble cause
Help our youth the truth to know
That we move again as a nation
towards great lofty height to attain
One nation bound in freedom
Peace and unity.
If Nigeria was a book, what type of book would it be I wonder
Would the story be great, I ponder?
Or would it be dull with no thrills like a cloudless night without stars
Would it tell of the history of a land so warm with love and peace?
And of the stories of our heroes’ past, warriors though not from mars
Men who fought for a dream of a greater tomorrow without a plan in sight
To build a country vibrant and strong like the great rock of Gibraltar
If Nigeria was a book, what type of book will it be I wonder
Would the story be true to life and tell of her current struggles, I ponder?
A lackluster nation, whose back is bent under the weight of bad governance and insecurity
A people with potentials but no real development, without joy, without hope
The giant of Africa? But this giant is so lame, so lame it is afraid of its shadow
What a waste, a shame and it breaks my heart
If Nigeria was a book, what type of book would it be I wonder
Would it be written about her future despite the present, I ponder?
A super story of success and great accomplishments
Of well-made roads, brightened by uninterrupted power at night
A prosperous nation built by knowledgeable and skilled citizens
The giant awakened finally and moving with strides akin to swaga
A community of people as bright as day, brimming with joy like a roaring ocean
If Nigeria was a book, I know it would be a blend of many plots
I have no doubts the story will have a super ending- A best seller for sure!
If you cannot mend
your own house,
how will your enemy
build it for you?
You cry terrorism.
You name Boko Haram.
Yet you avert your eyes
from the hands
that arm them.
Who feeds the fire?
Who sells the knife?
Who whispers the route
before the strike?
How can the sponsor
of disorder
be your physician?
Your leaders kneel in corruption,
sleep with devils,
and preach prosperity
to the starving.
They speak of God,
yet bargain with blood.
America arrives
wearing the mask of salvation,
but everywhere he walks
order collapses.
Can a killer of his own people
teach you peace?
He called your continent filth.
Did you think
his heart would defend you?
Nigeria,
do not confuse education
with wisdom.
Do not wait for strangers
to fix wounds
they helped create.
Power never rescues the weak.
It exploits them.
And he who waits for saviors
while refusing truth
is already digging
his grave.