The stream by the the tree has left it dry

What is it’s natural fate

But wither and die?

A world blanketed In Darkness

Has been abandoned by the moon,

How is he fated

If not stumble and grope for light?

…A little frail bird sings in sorrow

…A Little babe walks with teary cheeks

But their pain as both

Feel not the anguish I know.





I have placed you in my treasure chest
This throbbing heart of mine
O Most worthy of cherishing
For herein lies love and all its elements ;
The quakening feel of earnest affection,
It chills like dewy hills in a  harmattan morn’
And could please the spirit,
Like the sight of fine toned morning elves,
Squatting by the flowing stream of old Eden.
Where Eve Ruled Once,
While earth’s first man dotingly adored
Eternally worshipped such sacred feminine.
Now my dear,is it old time  repeating its past?
Or is it the flower of destiny turning its full bloom?
For when I behold thee my being quakes ,
And in me stands nothing but my worship  for another earth goddess, which be thee  ebony idol.
See how you enchant my poor soul,
Now days are spent in the marvel of your ebony beauty.
Shall I spend precious morning at your feet,
And through the  calmest night of sweet rest,
Shall I adore your fingers;the daintiness and the glittering elegance.
“For Heaven’s esteemed child,
You are fine as you are black.”
Your face is made fairy and divine
With the glow of your eyes,
That ebony hue!
And the sweetness in your soul.
I still hear the first sound of your laughter,
Echoes of its music still lingers in my dreams,
Cause the tune of your voice stills this stirring soul,
And your eyes are like pots of potent charm,
For they overwhelm the mind when beheld,
And your perfect breasts are apt bursts of feminine sensuality.

When I behold your face, it’s magic and power,
Such feelings are in my fluttering chest,
Which to you I just  showed,
In this true and imperfect attempt,
To impress an ebony idol.





In a dark night
There is  a soothing glow in thine charming face
Your lips reminds me of a singing cherub
And your magical smile tells me of Virgin Mary’s goodness
Thine fine styled brow
Blow the sort of air
That could dry away tears
And your pure eyes
Those pure eyes
Shows an emotion so deep
That it  makes me think
You could contain that which I feel.


/POETRY/A striving youths prayer.

To ye I pray to so

And he answers my own

Purge me of evil oh

For it is surplus in my soul

So thine grace I may own

From my heart never let love go

For it maketh life whole

And beautifies it the more

keep my life and my wants never owe

But please never stop to instruct my soul

But also give me the grace to know

That it is ye who speaks to my soul

For such paths I do not wish to go

Which has naught to yield to my goal.

By Alex-Ani Nnamdi.