I will pronounce your name, Mary,
I will declaim you, Mary!
Mary, your name is as mild as cinnamon, the Fragrance in which the lemon grove sleeps.
Mary, your love is note fragrant than wine;
Fragrant is the scent of your perfume.
Your name alone is like perfume poured out.
Oh! Why wouldn't I pronounce your name?
How beautiful you are, my dearest, inamorata
You are the silky gazelle of the esteemed paradise
Blazing radiance on me in a blissful beam;
Your daintiness flabbergasts me, so nice
I pray together we become a team.
The fauna and flora, with you I can’t compare
For wherever I go I see your face, my rose;
My love for you daily-multiplies, indeed not mere
For you are the reason I can take this proud pose.
Legendary and respected,
He pootles hither and thither
In his timeworn quad bike ;
Cavorting like a peacock
For he is super haughty
Albeit parsimonious –
Is the pope a Catholic?
Born with blue blood
In his veins,
The giant of Africa
The almighty Nigeria,
I salute you, my country
For indeed you are a giant.
Your people are weeping,
Praying that Nigeria
Be better one day-
Fifty years after independence
The citizens are still living in paucity,
My words to you are super true,
For I was truly in love with you;
You were my world, my soul-piece
But now, I guess we have to leave in peace;
You stabbed me, with a bloody hammer
And now I see our being together as a bummer.
Who'd have thought that you'd betray me, darling?
Your coyness, my dear, is taking ages;
Why don't we write our love story in pages?
Now and then I think about you and you alone,
Hoping ad infinitum that I've seen the bone
Of my bones. I wish you'd hear my heartbeat,
And be cognizant of how you get me off my feet
My diva, my señorita, my everyday candy crush.
Whenever you're around me, I feel so alive;
With you by myself I know I'll forever survive.
Port Harcourt, my Port Harcourt,
A baronial city, bedraggled and obstreperous;
A city with the good, the bad and the ugly,
Deprived of all in tandem with beauty.
Port Harcourt, my renowned Garden City,
Parlous, galling and , of course, shambolic;
A city where the gardens are but mere weeds;
One where looters and junkies own the streets.
My words to whomever it may concern,
Heed not inattentively, for I'm here to affirm.
'A good name', they say,'is better than sacrifice',
And, I add, is indeed more valuable than jewels.
Why live a life so damn, in all façades, phoney?
Need I remind you that your living it isn't funny?
Why would you, folk, be ensnarled in frivolities
When all you'd get is none but mere trivialities?
Obianuju! Obianuju! My epitome of beauty,
Captivating in all façades, an all in one cutie.
As gentle as a dove you, my dear, always are,
Twinkling ad infinitum like the shooting star.
Lips so glossy, making lyrical my mouth now
And then. Oh, I love the shape of your brow!
My diva with skin like the firm-fleshed ripe fruit,
Lovely in all façades, my dearest Cupid's root.
Now and then I feel you, even in your absence,
Entombed in pregnant forlornness,
Entrapped in life's tiffs, lovelessness,
The living-dead man zombie-walked,
Overpowered by the wind, insulted by insects.
He saunters now and then, hither and thither,
Chatting with the trees, mistaken, every so often, for one non compos mentis. He zombies about, unaware of his deeds, super dead-ish.
Alive yet lifeless, he is but a living dead,
Fully alive, yet fully dead.