MY PRECIOUS MONSTER

Jugging in thye stream
of love like the sea waves
she felt a rough toch
like a rusted iron

"Monsters!" she screamed
and in a twilt
we were floatin
just like it nwas
in the beginning
lingering on the swing of love

THE MAGNIFICIENT MEN OF MERRIAH

On thier faces
are stripes of courage
They come out bold
like the red colours

I come in green
trying to stop them
they sling out
the truth on me
and rest in peace.

BEAUTIFUL DILEMMA

From the tension of my heart
comes the expansion of my thought
opression and depression
encircles my imagination

My emotions I try to vision
like a profusion
in a problem that has no solution

RED DREAMS

Running up and down
Scattered like the feathers
of the earth

Skipping the hurdles of death
but not sure if they've crossed it
Human flesh for brush
GOD HELP ME!

UNARMED ROBBERS

My eyes are heavy
and rich with sleep
but pen and paper
robbed me off
with their bare hands
rendering slaps of joy

They made me scared
by showing me failure
threatening and saying
if I don't grease his pockets
I'll have a knock on my brain

I became poor
having no option of my own
but to go the way of the robbers
with memories like bitter honey
still lingering after the robbrery
I had this inscription
written with their painful fingernails
on my forehead:
"wealth of knowlegde"

SMOKE

From the blazing flames of the pipe
errupt clouds of smoke
that ride in the air
like a bevy of birds

"Dan Iska"*! they shout
but I look at him in striking emotions
my resentments
flapping it's wings in the breeze of pity

*"Dan Iska"- In Hausa Language, means rude and stubborn

MILLENIUM DEVELOPMENT GOALS: 8-0

As blank as black
with pains and sorrows cursed
for money i pursed
but caught up with its footprint
even as the skeletons of rice
smiled at me

And then I saw the light
at the other end
but had to race through the tunnel
of pen and books

And even my sister
raced with me
wanted to be by my side
And had a torchlight
not wanting me to hold her

We came out strong and sweet
with my sister being tied
to her heart beat
And in a dozen months
she was filled up
birthing her resemblance of love
with smiles of joy

Ruminating
the sour experiences
of the birthing house
unlike my sister
my senior friend's wife
had it in black and white

Although the mosquitoes
did not spare her
I would not have been
in that place
where measles and diseases triumphed

Even after this
on the outside were mountains of mess
making the air fresh with filthy saches, papers and cobs
of harmful satisfaction

But of all these
cme the white teeths
and the broad chins
of my counry and China
making the world a better place

PANTS OF THUNDER

As the wild wind goes pronto
like a hurried crown with flourish
adored by the green nature
with fearful boldness.

Heavenly tears roll down
the chin of the earth
even as shackles of breath
are ruffled by rods of lightning

ABIKU

To make the full breast
go through lillies of pain
tantalizing her joys of sorrow
from the spine of her womanhood.

Why give pleasant sorrows
to the incubator of nature's gift
massaging her mouth of laughter
with paddlocks of bitterness

Even as she sits down
on the stool of thought
with strange mysteries of the soul
the scar of fruitful barreness sticks.

ARE YOU STILL SLEEPING?

We all sometimes have heard sayings such as "that is life", "hmm this life," life is wicked", "life is full of suprises". I have even heard someone said "life is a war". These are illusory sense of expressions people have about life.
But come to think of it, must life always be about fighting? Must life always be about struggling? Do I have to live under the bridge to experience life? Do I have to hustle and bustle to make ends meet before I can experience this life?
These are few of the questions that keep on smooching my thoughts. Of course, life is not a bed of roses, but must it always be a bed of thorns. Yes, we must till the ground like the farmer, but even the farmer does not till the ground all day. He rests at night, smiles at night, knowing that tomorrow will be a better day. He sleeps and dreams of a bountiful harvest, one that will not only feed him, but fetch him some good money.
But the mistake some of us make is to keep on resting till the next night, sleeping till the next night and even dreaming till the next night. And then when we wake up, after doing the wrong things at the right time and doing the right things at the wrong time. We keep on struggling to make up for that day lost, we strive to get things done before the rainy seasson stops and then get it termed as "life".
That one day lost might just be the day we should have planted our seeds for a good harvest. It might just have been the day our farms needed us the most. A little resting is no harm, a little dreaming is no harm, but when done longer than necessary, sometimes we pay back in tenfolds we never could have imagined. Life is sweet for those who wants it to be sweet. Life is good for those who wants it to be good. Yes, sometimes life might be full of surprises, but the power to control these surprises lies in our palms.
Remember, this is just my opinion about "a pinch of life". Your own opinion also matters, not to me in particular, but to you most especially. I know I cannot change your opinion about some certain issues about life, but I can influence it to become a much more better opinion and please dream only at nights.

CROSSROAD

Can't specify how many
But feel guilty IF I don't

It's wind of thought
walk past through
my mind of uncertainty

Just like the clattering
of palm fronts.
WHICH DO I CHOOSE?

ARE YOU STILL WAITING FOR MANNA?

Even though
Our mother's breast still remains dry
Our footprints of laziness
Have we left behind
TO soar up above
Clouds of failure

Yes, we know the ground is dry
But we will till and try
Bagging all we thought we knew
Into a world anew
We will reach beyond to lead the pack
And not waste our time lookimg back
Though the road might seem narrow
Who cares if it gets down to oru marrow
As long as we reached we we drew
Then we can settle on leaves of success like dew

BICYCLE

Paddling uphill the untarredroad
to reach the gold magnet
dust of failure
clung to my feet
tap-tap and off it went
like smokes of the past

My tyre got stuck
in a pot-hole
making my groin ache a little
dismantling, I noticed
the tyre's spike had an ass
and the heat had become
my second skin

After the kissing of spanners
I was up again
then came the father of all
Yes of all hurricane
bringing me to a halt

But the sun
I could still see
it's rays piercing
right through me
awakening the strength of my legs
and of all this
were just God's own test of fire
to make me a fine steel.
Collins Bannu.
collinsbannu@gmail.com