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  • pov_poetry 88w


    Early on a Saturday morning,
    adrenaline flows through his veins,
    down his spine and to his heels.
    Perspiration pours through his glands
    as his feet grind the untarred road
    and raise needless dust upon my respiration,
    causing a frantic bemusement.

    For who runs when none pursues?
    Who sweats with so much pleasure?
    Who seeks pain in this painful world?

    Oh Jogger, dear Jogger,
    the sweat and cramp may hurt you not,
    but the pace of your feet drives me naught.
    I'm out to feel the sun
    but you race pass me as if chased by a gun.
    I'm out for a little warmth
    but you cause a great panic in my thought.

    - Ihunayachi

  • pov_poetry 88w


    Heaven surely holds immeasurable promises
    So the Bishop assumed a divine assurance
    He preached about the rain 
    And how Sahara will simmer down
    With a droplet of faith 
    He proffers cure for the world 
    The congregation sings Hallelujah and Hosanna
    But today, they must tarry 
    And endure the burn of the sun 

    - Ihunayachi 

  • pov_poetry 88w

    A Poem of Triumph

    In times like these
    Only hopeful eyes can survive
    As the day darkens into dusk
    The stars remind us of today's terror
    When our eyes fade into deep sleep -
    And wakes into the same reality
    Yesterday wasn't lost in our dreams

    In times like these
    We'd trade our lungs for some relief
    The fever that betides our loins -
    Is the fear of an invisible foe
    With no where to run to
    And the media's constant gory figures
    The headlines of tomorrow haunts our dreams

    In times like these
    Like nightmares that end slowly
    It was yesterday we felt the pain
    Only in our dreams did it hurt
    With each blink, our eyes forget
    With each breath, our heart rejoice
    Triumphant, humanity will overcome

    - Ihunayachi