Showing posts with label Domestic violence. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Domestic violence. Show all posts

Monday, March 19, 2018

MAKE MOTHER CRY NO MORE


Come with me let's go to the south and speak
Let's talk to them about the fallen tears on mothers cheek
The oracle has spoken to me in a language unknown
Language i would declaim to the ears of men alone
That no woman should be made to cry

Come let us move to the east and settle the mire
Let's quench this madness that has spread like wild fire
Mother's tears need not to be fetched
Like an open stream with her bounds stretched
Cos her tears are carved from moon stones

Has the royal drum been sounded in the west
Has the Oni sent out his royal guard to make arrest
Of frail men
Who refuse to leave mothers tears unfallen
Cos her tears brings wrath from the gods

Where men drink her tears joyfully
Where those herdsmen broke mothers tears freely
Lush canopies fall to carpet and the flora wintry home
Mothers tears withers woodlands on fertile loam
Cos Nature never betrays her own

 Brethren; we could see she quakes in her fears
Mother is restless with each drop of her tears
Her tears adorns the naked moon
We are no saint; we've faded the moon
cos we poured mothers tears like fools

I may not be good enough for mother
I may have been so foolish like my every other brother
I may have been the black sheep in white dressing
I may have been the son without her blessing
But i'm the only one with a pregnant pen

So when she comes,
Ring my bell of words to her eardrums
Don't get her deaf with this message
Tell her not to worry about me or my luggage
I have embark on this journey
To tell frail men never to search for her tears; it's not honey
Cos her tears is as precious as diamond

Thursday, November 9, 2017

BROKEN PRIDE




I'm nothing more than I am
And less than the beauty you see
I've been robbed of my pride
My honey pot is broken
By the rod of a stranger

Someone help me for i'm a broken clay pot
my wrapper has fallen in the market square
Help me for I do not know where to run to
My world is collapsed in the day light
It's wall is crumbled before my very own eyes

Someone please tell my mother that
My beads have fallen into pieces
The waist beads which stand for dignity
Have been taken from me
And never will be returned

Someone please tell my father that
My breast have been drained of it sweetness
Both have been doused by corrupt lips
And would never produce holy milk
For melons of vinegar is all I have left

Someone please tell my husband to-be
I'm nothing more than I am
And less than the beauty he seeks
Beneath that white veil
Is a shredded beauty

Which glitters with broken smile
Not more than a sear rose
Covered with broken thorns as beauty
Please take me and hold my frail heart with love
For I am a woman with a broken pride.

(c) STANLEY OGUH

Saturday, October 1, 2016

SOUR BLISS



If I had only known you'd give just one thing to me; torrent of pain,
Not the sweet promises; not the nuptial vows but my tears as rain.
You promised you would cherish me until we both grew old,
The only vows you took to heart was "To Have" and "To Hold".
"To Have" me? I'm a prisoner; an object to your frustration and your hard bent will,
"To Hold" me? Yes; your look of disgust towards me only hold up to quantify the hatred you feel.
The hardest to bear isn't the countless emotional wounds nor the rain of slaps and the shove,
nor your act of tyranny; the sting of your hurting words; like a black velvet glove.
But scars all around my fragile heart as a result of being your bride,
As a result of being a woman; a broken woman who you crush her dignity and pride.
through countless of nights I fed from your fist; drinking from your well of serene madness,
to the morning where your palms does the paintings on my face; wiping away my make-up of happiness.
If only I could tell my story; if only you could taste the sour taste of bliss in my tears,
If only you would have a view into my secret hell; my world blazing with fears.
If only you would realise am your wife; your better half and not an object of your hate,
Not a black hole to fill your anger but your life parthner and your soulmate.
If only you would come to understand me; if only you would realise this,
My husband; we would not only live in peace but in absolute bliss.

I AM STAN

  I am poetry I am the definition of the handwriting On the walls of Babylon The one your fathers couldn’t read The one you are lear...