Home » Poems » Best » Benson Chukwueke » Best Benson Chukwueke Poems

Best Poems Written by Benson Chukwueke

Below are the all-time best Benson Chukwueke poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Benson Chukwueke Poem

Small Things that Makes Love Stay Fresh

I'm not a formal poet,
no wordsmith of form or pattern.
I'm just a man in love
who likes to paint with words,
polishing lines into a flower verse.

These words are not carved in stone,
nor gold, tried by fire.
They're just free verse,
an expression of my love for you,
Imabong, my dearest.

I know you love to read my lips
when I whisper sweet nothing.
They're a soft melody, a rose
in your hair, a simple gift
of unflinching devotion.
These are the small things we do
to make love blossom.

I remember our walk
across those Californian skies,
how we flew like birds.
We painted that summer red,
our bodies tanned,
beaten by stripes of the sun
Every night we slept like dead logs,
exhausted from a day of
five-star feasting.

Yes, that was when love was young,
exuberant, a juvenile delinquent.
We ran half-naked on the beach,
clubbing every Friday night.

We drank until we were numb,
smoked cigarettes,
and woke up hungover on Saturday mornings.
We lived on a diet of junk food:
hamburgers, shawarmas, ice cream—
whatever we craved, we ate.

But I knew such wild life fades with time.
Those moments of madness we enjoyed,
pass away with age.
Now, at sixty-five, doctors warn,
"Watch your blood pressure.
Don't eat this, don't eat that."
Yet my heart still pounds.

When our grandchildren race off to school,
their parents chasing money
across the city,
I sit alone, but never lonely.
with the ghost of years past,
the memories of our love,
rocking in this chair,
humming old school songs to myself

Details | Benson Chukwueke Poem

Smoke Screen

Dopamine’s bright haze,
Fingers touch the blaze.
Face in a smoke screen,
Breaking from the scene.
 Text, audio and video:
     Digital tango.

   Virtual, she lies,
Glass reflects her eyes.
Curled upon the bed,
  By the pixels fed.
 Tears of erotic joy;
  Dust on every toy.

Daughter whines for bread,
  Homework left unread.
Morning comes and goes,
  Cold the kitchen grows.
  Fridge is empty space;
    Anger fills the place.

      In a limbo-land,
He reaches for her hand.
 Whispers soft and low,
  Seeking her to know.
  Pleading for her sight;
     Lost to LED light.

    Head in the cloud,
Wrapped in silicon shroud.
   Chasing digital stars,
 Fleeing phantom scars.
   Fantasy’s cold kiss;
     Artificial bliss.

   Hours turn to day,
 Always this same way.
  Prone and all alone,
 Bound to Android phone.
Broadband’s reach so wide;
  Family cast aside.

Details | Benson Chukwueke Poem

Escaped By A Whisker

When law and order broke down on the street,
And madness drove the mob with no retreat,
They tore the city's heart with fire and claw,
Youth in recklessness thrills, yearn for war.

But only those who've witnessed war's cruel face,
Can truly cherish all that peace can embrace.
A youngster clamoring for battles to wage,
Knows not that war brings death and endless rage.

Until, suddenly, hundreds fall before your eyes,
And by a mere whisker, you escaped demise,
A bullet spins past, grazing your ear,
And you question yourself, Am I still here?
Or have I gone there, into the great beyond,
Where souls depart, where life shred its bond

Then you pinch your cheek, to feel your own skin,
To confirm you're alive, and not a ghost within.
Only then will you begin to comprehend,
The true worth of life, preserved from reckless end.

Details | Benson Chukwueke Poem

Lofty Dream

All my life, a singular scheme,
I've chased the wind, a lofty dream.
But how to describe the spirit's gleam,
without them saying I'm so naive?
Things the senses cannot perceive,
are the hardest to believe.

So how to explain the foresight,
in hours of quiet, sacred light?
When transported to that divine height,
to witness a revelation like a joyride.
How to describe what's felt inside,
where words alone cannot confide?

They say it's a mental disease,
"a fool's Paradise" you live with ease.
For years, alone, I've sought release,
pushing through the lofty route.
Talking to visions, calling out,
birthing something, despite doubt.

I conceived a brainchild from the air,
a novelty of which few are aware.
A lofty dream, a vision to share,
a creation that blew the mind.
From nothing, I made a new kind,
a masterpiece for all to find.

Details | Benson Chukwueke Poem

In Search of the Lost Tongue

They sifted through the red soil of the years,
Plucking at roots where the great forebears sleep;
Not merely dust, but salt from ancient tears,
In vaults where Oghene’s secrets buried deep,
They sought the tongue of the Urhobos.

The mother-tongue—a Vwre of vibrant gold,
That bound the Uvwie and the Okpe soul—
Now lies beneath the damp, colonial mold,
A broken Ivri, losing its control,
In Ughelli’s mist, oppressive, gray and cold.

A desperate hunt for Edoid embers lost,
By Inuivwi clinging to a fading grace;
They seek to mend the spirit, tempest-tossed,
And find the value of their rightful place,
But find a landscape utter double crossed

For in the throat where udi used to flow,
A jagged, coarse Pidgin now is spun;
The Emotes of the market-square, we know,
Have taught the children’s lips to skip and run
From the very gods that made the delta grow.

This coarse alloy, this Oibo-shadowed chime,
Has choked the wells where elders’ wisdom brewed;
The tongue of kings is smothered in the slime
Of vulgar slang and metaphors endued
With nothing but the wreckage of our time.

Details | Benson Chukwueke Poem

Another Midnight Massacre

All through wee hours of the morning
Laminga search their missing persons, mourning
The track that leads to Amurum forest
Are traces of blood stain northwest

They search until sunrise by the river bend,
Where headless bodies on the water meet an end.
The corpses littered, unidentifiable,
Vultures grunt, tension grows so palpable.

This was another midnight massacre
When men slept, this ambush occurs
Bukuru have breached the truce
So all hell now must be let loose.

 We must return  to war
The young ebullient youth swore
To avenge the innocent blood of their past
Their heart drumming so fast

It is war that has no end  
For this we no longer pretend
 A tale of hate, of who must claim the land,
Passed down by each generation's hand.

In fighting over what's their due,
Tens of thousands snuffed too.
As senseless conflicts and retaliation
Have become their everlasting damnation

Details | Benson Chukwueke Poem

For This Cause

Demons hatched from isolated shell
Has brought down to us hell
Simple men with simple lives
Introverts, quiet and withdrawn
Summoned to fight this cause

Trained as suicide bombers
Bomb strapped around their own bodies
Airplane hijacked
They blew up the twin tower
Train stations, church cathedrals
Prominent, crowded places
where the next target

Terror is the weapon of warfare
To achieve this extreme ideology
Annihilation of the Semitic race
They saw this as a good cause
Worthy to sacrifice their own lives
This belief that their reward is in paradise
Seventy-two virgins and loads of purest wine
To enjoy in the life beyond
Allahu Akbar

So they reeled out the charter
The words spoken were fire
Which burned deep in their hearts
And flame up a greater jihad
For all infidels must pay the price
Those traitors who aligned with the Jews
Must lose their lives
Allahu Akbar

This is the spirit of Assyria at work
Evil powers in high places
With unquenchable thirst for human blood
Addicted to killing, destroying
And unleashing terror without respite

Now we began to negotiate with Iblis
To appease his proud pomposity
First, we offered back the prisoners
And ask them to release the hostages
We offered them crude oil, gold and silver
Anything we could give as exchange, we gave
But will they ever let go, I doubt it

Details | Benson Chukwueke Poem

Fighting Sleep

I fight hard
To defy slumber’s grasp,
Head tilting, nodding
Between wakefulness and sleep.
My focus hangs in the balance,
For it is the hour of devotion.

Tonight,
I dare not yield to the body's whim;
Kneeling, I begin the Lord’s prayer,
But the words stumble.
Yet I regain my track—
Resolute, I must persevere.

Swiftly, I reach for my Bible,
Turning to the Psalms:
"He who keeps Israel
Shall neither slumber nor sleep."
The verse echoes in my mind;
I cannot surrender now.

But this gentle breeze, soft and cool,
Fans the embers of my fatigue.
My eyelids grow heavy,
My knees begin to buckle;
Slowly, my head lowers,
Resting upon the Holy Book.

Angels ascend and descend
Upon Jacob’s ladder,
Cherubim and Seraphim
In celestial minstrelsy.
Heaven’s peace envelops me,
And I begin to snore heavily.

Till dawn filters through the blinds,
Sun rays pierce into my eyes
I awaken, still kneeling by the bed—
Still praying to the Lord

Best Poems Written by Benson Chukwueke

Small Things that Makes Love Stay Fresh

Smoke Screen

Escaped By A Whisker

Lofty Dream

In Search of the Lost Tongue

Another Midnight Massacre

For This Cause

Fighting Sleep

Member Area

Soup Social

Member Poems

Member Poets

Famous Poems

Famous Poets

Poetry Resources