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CLARION CALL, poetry by: Shan Arnold

We knew the risks
but we chose the path,
not for our sake
but for our love

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Happy Independence Nigerian Patriot’s

We knew the risks
but we chose the path,
not for our sake
but for our love ones,
& nation at large.

Its been long coming
as each war
was a blood bath,
bullets in the air
bomb blast inches away,
still we geared on
our hearts in our mouths,
but the clarion call
was much more
than our lives.

We marched to defend
the honor of our country,
the pride of our land
& the glory of our wives.

Yes we die in war
fallen like mare chickens,
yes we’re injured
& bones broken,
but No we still fought
as long as there
was a single breath.

We fought on
the clarion call
we chose to obey.

Happy Independence Nigeria.

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poetry

Dear sunshine

Dear sunshine!
Rain your rays over my dark desert heart,
I bless the day my eyes discovered your glowing soul,
Sit with me let’s ride through

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Dear sunshine!
Rain your rays over my dark desert heart,
I bless the day my eyes discovered your glowing soul,
Sit with me let’s ride through unfamiliar paths,
Your Seat in me, a throne with a crown of black trees.
Sing me sweet melodies with my heartbeats,
Adoring every chance we hold hands with a dance.

Let’s go wild in blissful love
In the starry sky of the ocean shores
In your white apparel, I foresee my dreams

As you call me by my name “Hub”
To tints of passion I want to live, breathe
Every moment with you.

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Let’s rise in love, and only fall for us
your golden voice rising with each morning glow
In the tingling sensation of allure
I want to be wrapped over you
In love and joy and possession.

Let’s be in love
I want your lips to be the one I kiss with bliss
Each morning when I wake up without a miss
I want to be buried in your bosom
for only there, will I want to dream of things to come…

@WildWordz

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poetry

slowly fade away

Slowly we faded
Lost in ugly pages, buried into history;
like smokes blown to

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Slowly we faded
Lost in ugly pages, buried into history;
like smokes blown to the air,
Broken wings in the wind,
Fading spirits.

Also, read: CLARION CALL, poetry by: Shan Arnold

Slowly we fade
In the pot of horror, love goes by, burning to death;
Beauty dissolves and transformed into ugliness
Morals and values decomposing, ethnic cleansing.

Slowly we fade
Natives misplaced Identities,
Spacious appetite for money and fame
voice of truth went mute in a blue,
Hope and love paddling to extinction.

Slowly we fade
Sons(suns) efforts and faith dumb in a waste(west)
Into the abyss of timeless pains
hands searching in the dark,
wanderers in a Broadway.

Slowly we fade
Flamy zeal and passion quenching nights after a day
The bonds between us faintly losing it’s the grip
Purple souls lost their fragrance, butterflies aging.

Slowly we fade
In anguish, we drown into deep;
Angels light consumed by darkness;
Swiftly and sweetly our feet sleeps;
Soldiers are swallowed by weakness.

WildWordz

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poetry

HOUSE_HELPS by Mimiap Arnold Shan

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Girl childarnoldshan087@gmail.comreality check: A girl she is, seemingly tender,
An iron bucket,
Gummed to her head,
One bigger, than she is,
Water, filled to the brim,
A look, into her eyes,
Voices, worker holism…She fought, against the odds,
Trying, to find her footing,
Her hands metamorphosed,
into masculinity,
Hardship, have masked her age,
Only young, at heart…A girl, someone’s child,
Either, sold out by parents,
Or deceived, by one trusted,
To care for her,
Whichever,

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Her fate has already been decided…She sleeps, one eye open,
Rises, still with the moon,
Her comfort lost to cruelty,
She is identified, so easily,
An aged wrapper, she wore,
Folded skilfully, to her waist,
Life to her is work after work…At age twelve, what hope is left,
She carefully, clean the dishes,
Make meals, for her mistress,
Nothing cooked is hers to taste,
In all these, the smile she must…Late hours, a tin voice cries,
Sound of beating, and scolding,
Heard, in the dark wind,
A house help,
Turned the punching bag…By day, her spirit already fainted,
Passers-by, pretend not to see,
Her eyes red, begging for sleep,
Each step, she staggers,
As her oversized shirt, dances…By the road, her mates in uniforms,
They’ve good energy,
Clothed, with healthy smiles,
She drowns in thoughts,
One of, gloomy forever,
Sadly, she retires to herself,
Her malnourished face,
Refocused, on the work at hand,
She is, her only solace…A girl, blood and flesh,
Dead before living,
In the hands, of acclaimed humans,
Who dress religiously, to Church,
In their homes,
Lies children’s skeletons,
But who cares,
Her life, already strangled…

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