The Widow’s Son
He died trying to
Be a better father
To the son he had
Longed for years
To have as a man,
And he could not
Live long to father
The child he had
Become a dad to.
The child was born
On a Sunday morning
In the thatched house
Eastward the city,
Leaving the poor
Widow alone with
The son of their love,
Living in the fears of life.
The son became a
Creative talker at
Noon and he rose
To fame at the eve.
He remembered his
Father in the morning
And looked after the
Mother as the husband
Could have loved her.
While life was still
With the old widow,
The son married to
Her a pretty princess
And they lived happily.
The Adulterous Soul
Lie with me for a night
No, will it grant my heart
The peace of mind that
Is Out this chaos world?
If it won’t give me rest
If it doesn’t bring peace
But shame and atrocity
Then, it isn’t worth me.
Lie with me for a night
Satisfy my wanton urge
I am a wide beauty that
Stinks painted sepulchre.
Inglorious things happen
At the bottom parts of me
Ignominious lies within my
Dwelling that wreaks dignity
And I Remember
In the little town off
Eastward Ngi where
I grew up from lived a
Widow whose only
Child was all that she
Had and they lived in
Their cool mud house
Everyday she cooks
With firewood that
Smoked the heck out
Of the rich man of the
Town and this caused
Her the last inheritance
Left for her by her dead
With every passing day
She dies of chronic pains
And the cure for the rich
Man’s only daughter was
Her only means of getting
Back her inheritance from
The rich man of the city
Today her only child has
Grown and is retelling their
Story about the tales of the
Dying widow and her inheritance
About The Author: John Chinaka Onyeche (Rememberajc), is from Rivers State
and is currently living in the city of Port Harcourt, Nigeria.
An undergraduate of History and Diplomatic Studies at Ignatius Ajuru University Of Education Port Harcourt.
Facebook.com/jehovahisgood
Twitter @apostlejohnchin
Instagram @Iam_apostlejohnchin
Rememberajc.wordpress.com
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