,
The year we all envisaged
The pinnacle of visionary promises
The glib tongues of our official authorities
The season of actualizations
,
It came
It is going
Those brimful dreams, fantasies and promises
Man meaningless to time
,
In 1993, we heard it
It will be the year of blueprints
Education for all
Schemes for paradisiacal dreams
,
In 1999, we heard it
Even after the democratic misadventure
To the trumpeting of the seven agendas
,
In 2007, we heard it
Truncated by the poison of Aso
We rode on the goodwill of fate
Believing these official proclamations
Will serve as soothing prescriptions
,
Now the ashes of hopes are burnt
Like worn out dreams soaked
In tattered dreams of mad men
Waiting for when they will be given senses
,
Vision 2020
Was promised
Hungers will be eradicated
Plates will be filled
Electricity will be constant
Education will be free
A listless list of promises
Failed promises
Ala sacrificed promises
,
Alas, vision 2020
Still came to fruition
It came
In plagues crushing not just a nation
But, the universe
,
© k~net

'
My fathers offered
The blood of hens,
I have differed
Offering bloods in pens.
My forebears sweated
On farmland.
I have sweated
My days in faraway land.
I am a marauder
With no strength nor guts,
Like a forsaken honourer
Of alien gods!
,
© knet
# lost
7:15pm
11 Jun 2020

'
Never think cemeteries are lonely,
It is full of bones and story.
Never you wish death before dying,
You could die and they act crying.
'
© k-net
# darken_lines
28/1/2020

Aiyamrex:
I was reading a book about him, because I got lost in his maze.

The glimpse of rotten skulls, broken joints and stolen eyeballs got me agape.

I heard the trees scream loud and dance blind in the darkness to the raging wind.

Even though no, yet he seems to stand akimbo ahead the freaked me In his black hoody cloak that made him darker than the darkness that engulfed the scene.

Who again will rescue my soul from the grip of he who purloin my healthy mind.

He was a familiar sight in my nightmares for years rewind.

If I break loose tonight, next time, the reaper will still come to grasp my loin.

Dark and picturesque. You write well.

,
If the pen is stronger than the sword,
It's words could be strongest amidst endemics,
Diseases can ravage our lives,
Never our souls nor what we write.
,

I thought of the might of the pen,
It could have the duty to end,
How many generations before its metaphorical might,
Is not something that writers lose sight?
What do we fear that has never been written?
,

© k~net
Maiduguri
26/4/2020

The days are now hectic
The streets cries in anger
Gone are those smiling in sceptic
Sharks are in hunger
With the boat now sinking
Peters with no chance to struggle
No more sweating nor drinking
The streets are now a jungle
Infested with khakis ready
Like Talibans baying for blood
In cynical attention for the unsteady
And there will tears flood
,
© k~net
21/4/2020

Aiyamrex:
They all wanders in the middle of nowhere at Neverland
surrounded by darkness in light; no faith, no culture, no type, no fate
believer, atheist and pagan with one care
neither sins nor hate, but love they all share

time too busy to graps their loins
no yesterday, no today, past and present runs simulteneously so they don't trade to have coins
There thought without wait is manifested
even Lazarus of them sleeps himself in mansion

none could open their lips to say
but all to say in their mind to fellow is sent away
communication is telepathic
mouth does not speak, isn't that sympathetic?
They don't cry for leaving their loved ones because in a blink they all have come

no place bears the name hell
only city of suffering souls, maybe illusion, no mouth really can tell
they all drink dirt and eat stones for not doing the will of mother nature
the cave is so deep, hot lava they all feed on either juvenile or coming mature

#Folorunsho M. I.

deep

Deluxe sonnet, sincerely I am hearing that for the first time. Still, a poem painting the vanity called life.

Free verse...
" was in delima ,men learnt that The devil also bleed in battles".
A little help here, felt lost at what was meant here, explain bard.

BE MINE(Duet)
CHARLOTTE:
Let your lips
melt down my throat;
With each kiss,
Let me take in a portion of you.
KNET:
Let this meltdown of lips
Redefine the dying of passion,
As each kiss unsheathes
All portion of doubt.
CHARLOTTE:
Let me take in every inch of you,
Calmly encircling you;
Knowing you;
Possessing you.
KNET:
I am held spellbound in you,
As the calmed encirclement,
Takes ahold of me.
CHARLOTTE:
Allow my hands to wander
along the contours
of your unclad body
resting in the right places.
KNET:
Your hands are lord over my body, even the
contours are
Seemingly restless in the right places.
CHARLOTTE:
Whisper in my ears
with your untamed voice;
Tell me how you like it;
Keep me hooked.
KNET:
A possessed passion is eloquent in silence.
The voice speaks only when
Untamed.
CHARLOTTE:
Grab me fully in your arms;
Don't leave an inch of me;
Kiss me everywhere;
Don't set me free.
KNET:
You're in a mutual dungeon,
Setting free is not an option,
As my kisses wears everywhere,
And am just getting started.
CHARLOTTE:
Make me feeble;
KNET:
As I be the feed!
CHARLOTTE:
Make me loyal;
KNET:
As I be the subject!
CHARLOTTE:
Make me yours
tonight.
KNET:
As we become one tonight.
©
CHARLOTTE AND KNET,
http://charlotteakello.

My middle name is 'Ifeanyi"

When the winds of horrors blew,
I was never drag with it
Even though my identity flew
To destinations of dark quagmire.
*
I was baptized in Scottish knighthood,
With a name that made my forebears grin,
But who cares for transcultural sainthood
When the departed elders are left in green?
*
If I could do away with "If",
What will "anyi" say to me...
A backstabber of his race
And a follower of the thief,
By rejecting a reflection of me
For those alien face(s).
*
Mother, saw a portion of home
When she left me indigenously tattooed,
But civilizations is everyman's home,
Letting me off to be identity tabooed.
*
Now, I bear multiple disorders,
Looking like a wretch
Chasing harmless borders,
Soaked up in tireless drench.
*
It's been decades of wandering...
Eternity of wondering...
When and if "Ifeanyi"
Will be allow to speak orderly
For himself.
.
k~net™
# ghost_of_reflection
# lost
Maiduguri, Nigeria
10/12/2016

,
In the home of the brave
Lies those that were save
In this tide of wave,
They seek not the grave
But what they gave
Was the bereave
To live on.
'
In home of the brave
Plies those that were enslave
In this side of an enclave,
They seek not the cave
But what they crave
Was the deprave
To give up.
'
Knet
December 30, 2014 at 1:39 AM ·
Maiduguri, Nigeria

Where do we stand
To escape the face
Of faceless throngs
Who commit murder
In the name of religion
~
Where do we stand
As brutes in red and black scarfs
Scavenge the routes
Through which peace
Once plied
~
Where do we stand
To delay the music
Coming out from the flute of fire
Smashing brains
Belonging to fathers and would be fathers
~
Where do we stand
As miserly ghost walkers
Slowly exhume the living
From the grip of mortals
All the way to abyss
~
Where do we stand
To watch the unfolded spectacle
Of the hangman's mayhem
Unleashing pain in a town
Once oblivious to horse's whip
~
© k~net
ghosts_of_reflection
Maiduguri
April,2017

Well, OK...

And the fear catches me every time,
My heart remembers the coward I became,
One which could not save the misgivings
Of a dying friend shot for his act of valor
.
Folded hands angle on my chest,
Knees glided in a sort of knitted threads,
Of a late night wanderer out on a vigil-like quest,
Where gathering guilts dawns as he dreads
Could I have seek for open admittance from a
priest?
.
But what use is begging the wrong side for
forgiveness?
Unless if phantoms of man heed the call of
remission,
Understood only by him who finds contentment
In being unbound of memories past
.
I see my soul now consumed
In the flames of
Hellfire!
In my final strength and emotion,
Down on my knees, I say one last act of valor:
Father in Heaven,
I don't want to die a coward. . . AMEN

© k~net
#ghosts_of_reflection
Maiduguri
11/4/2015

Firstly, I am no sir and secondly, I believe poems should be an imitation of life like literature in words, so it's more reality than game. Finally, as a critique to your poem, it starts with a rhetorical question of something horrific but what's it? The subsequent line answers it(its death or dying, hence I labelled it a dark poem). Which would be confirmed with the word "dark room" in the next line and now back to my saying its starts from nowhere and ends same: the last man...knock at the door, all shows either the poem is cryptic or part of a story yet to be told. Or maybe it is me knocking(wanting) more from the poem.

A ballad!

"... must have written poems that garnered little or
no interest"

This line struck, do not give up. Your words will never give up on you with or without interest(s).

A dark poem. This feel has though it starts from nowhere and ends same way. And so; "...there was a knock at the door".

At least, this poem got me somewhere years back in a poetry competition. Someone should critique it for me, please.

'
Is beauty in the eyes of the holder
When one does not own beauty,
In a world of adulterated gorgeousness
Created by mocked grimace of make up.
'
Beauty is no longer attainable
For it is now a creation,
A creation in the citadel of cosmetics
And dehumanization of human wastes.
'
Beauty is a farce forced
to live in dreams.
As anyone can be a dreamer
Cursed by change
Hidden by lies.
'
Beauty is dead.
For only its ghost patrols the street.
'
If you look at the mamas passed
And look at the Cinderellas passing,
You will see beauty lies.
'
Beauty died burning before it worn out,
As even wrinkles no longer feel natural.
'
Years and age of fake beautiful lies
Pictures, a toy in China shop
Beauty now cries out for sale
In a market of dolls!
'
@ K-net
# ghosts_of_reflection
Maiduguri
May 21, 2016

The war-torn riches of some sands in maid*
Abandoned by the roadside, stoned and
castaway;
An insurgent haven, demons on a holiday,
Its sandy eggs broken, useful and have no need;-
Innocent mirrors are made to bleed,
Nay, I have often stood still in mute dismay,
As one's hard life suffers ruins, to this day,
Mother earth is shock on this deed?
What cruel children, bearing the shame-scorn:
What tears despised and modesty defaced
By ruthless children of waste:
From matrons to the nation, we bear shame-torn
To die at leisure having loved without taste;
And beauty bleeding not to be born.
,
*Maiduguri
© k~net™
ghosts_of_reflection
Maiduguri, Nigeria
10/1/2017
2:00am

[quote author=Bossbaby0002 post=88207296]

not so good, just an amateur on poems, but you can message me 07080546989[/quote

There's no pro nor amateur to poetry. After all, it simply is an expression of life in a condensed and elevated language. I will message u. Hope u're on whatsapp?

Aiyamrex:

i don't think i get what u meant by that bruh :/

It was just an alliterative compliment of your poem.

Maiduguri, the treaded thorny path of pain
As faceless faces hardened by oasis fears;
Waiting to shed wells of endless tears
Soaked warm in a northern clime searching for
peace in vain;
What cause the hobby of hunger, and stain -
Not naked but defaced among peers,
Those scars it seem marked only your face it
appears
Arewa's troubled mirror the only tag you gain;
Hay, home of peace,a ruse, nay, pieces, this a
disgrace,
You walk in dreams with your manhood in scar,
Through clouds that shine and open out above;
And the flames of hoodlums threatening your
face,
And all the past lies and bombs not far
Especially from the eyes of terrorist-love.

© k~net™
# ghosts_of_reflection
Maiduguri, Nigeria
15/1/2017
O3:00

Pin-point-poetical !

Divepen1:
As I stated here, https://www.nairaland.com/5606502/winners-2019-nairaland-writers-award#85364135, we will start voting early this year and this year will be organised by
Writertain Publishers

Here, you'll find the links to vote your best writers. In case you can't find their name, add it.

---

Meanwhile, you can sponsor any of the category. To do that, contact me at Akintayoakinjide@writertainpublishers.com or simply send me a PM.

Here is the list:

---

Novel

1. Best Romance Writer

http://writertainpublishers.com/?p=2223


2. Thriller/Mysteries - Detective, Crime etc

http://writertainpublishers.com/?p=2301

3. Horror
http://writertainpublishers.com/?p=2308

4. Comedy
http://writertainpublishers.com/?p=2366

5. Magical/Fantasy/sciencefiction

http://writertainpublishers.com/?p=2450

---

Short Stories[/size]

1. Romance
http://writertainpublishers.com/?p=2411

2. Thriller/Mysteries - Detective, Crime etc

3. Horror
http://writertainpublishers.com/?p=2367

4. Comedy

http://writertainpublishers.com/?p=2423

5. Magical/Fantasy
http://writertainpublishers.com/?p=2369

---

Poem


1. Narrative Poem
http://writertainpublishers.com/?p=2418

2. Romantic Poem
http://writertainpublishers.com/?p=2421

3. Poetic Diary
http://writertainpublishers.com/?p=2426

---

Honorary Award

a. Best Nigerian Author
http://writertainpublishers.com/?p=2218

b. Reader/Commenter - Top 3
http://writertainpublishers.com/?p=2429

There should be categories for dark poems and maybe dramatic poems. As I have seen a few poems that fall under these classifications and not under the aforementioned categories.

Emotional piece, will do better with more imagery in order to paint the heartfelt pain. Lastly, the last line should have the auxiliary verb "is" before the rhetoric.

N/b: I have a poem titled; "sheartbreaker" and I want to do something like a sequel to it but a duet. Can you collaborate with me. knet

I have a seven years experience in research writing. I am a capable ghost writer at best, possibly with over 150 works to date.
My email is: kennethegwu87@gmail.com.