What is wrong with Black

What is wrong with black, 

so far i know the night eases my soul from the cravings of my heart,

 giving me peace to sleep in the still of the night.

What is wrong with dark,

 the sun of the desert burns sands that blow my face, 

picking holes in me, burning me but black keeps me handsome.

Black shields me. Black is the mask that beauty wears,

 black is mascara, the reality of a dream we hold dear. 

An intension of creation from the creator.

It was first black until there was light as commanded. 

Black is origin, origin is beginning, 

black is source, black is beginning. 

Black is real as it never fades.

I am black, I sleep in black, 

I long for black to ease my bones as I lay after light has laboured me so, 

all worn and warned, black gives me sleep and peace till morn.

So still I rise, for I am black and black in me still rise.

 So long as black births dawn, I will be the best I am.

 Light will birth from black.

 Mama, black. Africa mama. Black Mama.

 By Nsikan Ekah

Reflection

When suddenly, there’s nothing,
Yesterday become wasted, not spent,
Like time spoilt, so bad we couldn’t use it,
When kids are bolder, because they see,
Men are frightened because they saw,
Who saw the end and beginning?

When suddenly, a mirror turns spirit,
Shows ghosts of our past, like no future will be.
Then I wonder, what is the mirror without me?
No! What is me, without the mirror?
Am I who or what? This is not the man in me.
Only if another mirror has same to say.

When suddenly, I need you to see me,
What would you say? Is that all I am?
Maybe I am, but I was; I was there.
Yes there! Yes dear, you’ve never been here,
Find yourself and find me. Find your lost!
We spend time, yet we’ve bought nothing.

When suddenly, everything is nothing,
We scramble for the last bits of yesterday,
Till my birth, when I have none to remember,
Now, I’ve seen my fear painted, not by Hillary,
I’ve seen the world emptied without artillery,
I’ve seen the days in my fear, but not the end.

When suddenly, everything is a child,
Yes! The one who could see the mirror,
I’m bearded like Soyinka in the future,
I’m ugly like who again? No, not this guy!
But why? Where are my monies?
Is this wanting what I’ll never have?

When suddenly, there’s nothing,
When suddenly, a mirror turns spirit,
When suddenly, I need you to see me,
Now, I’ve seen my fear painted, not by Hillary,
When suddenly, everything is nothing,
When suddenly,  everything is a child,
I’m just a country without reflection.

By Chinedu Hardy Nwadike
Dedicated to Nigeria in the face of change.

This is Adaeze's Poetry World. WELCOME!: The Wrong Woman

This is Adaeze's Poetry World. WELCOME!: The Wrong Woman: I starred into space, I thought about her, I missed her, Unconsciously I painted a picture, A picture of her, A picture of the wrong woman. ...

The Wrong Woman

I starred into space,
I thought about her,
I missed her,
Unconsciously I painted a picture,
A picture of her,
A picture of the wrong woman.

I sat and wondered where the words had gone
They were simple words
But my tongue was tied, literally
Tied to her tongue,
The wrong tongue.

We kissed and rolled
Our bodies closer than Siamese twins
Our bodies dripping of sweat
With passion I held her body,
The wrong body.

She lay still,
Eyes tightly shut,
Lips sealed,
Just that smile,
That smile that welcomed me
After every infidelity.
I cheated on the wrong woman.

For many years I had ignored her
I had taken advantage of a good woman,
I observed her in the coffin
As she lay in state,
I failed to realise she was the right woman for me.
I cry for I was burying the wrong woman.


By:   Nonso Nwankwo