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The Rain by NKEGBE CHUKWUEMEKA JOSHUA

The Rain


The rain beat us soft like clay

and our lives stood not the same.

No early warning, it came like a cruel night thief;

we sway-writhed and howled like the dying dogs.


Our wounds were bottomless pits of darkness;

they were the sulphurous hells that liquidized the

bodies into thick liquids.

Our cries erupted like the active volcanoes,

and sailed like the thunderstorms in the deep of the night,

and tremored in thousand times than the hazardous earthquakes. And

we fagged out because the passed ones are sands to be mourned.


Like clandestine orphans, we recoiled to our fates.

We scavenge for our survivals like the mother-hens

scratching the earth for foods.


The rain toured the ancient route of Noah’s flood;

it dribbled like the Olympic Soccer the arms of science

and technology. And we were drenched shivering fowls

at its defying power.


The rain killed in millions than the forces of death

and wreaked havoc than the arsenal of technology.

None dared stood its fiery presence.



We were the vigorous flaccid cattle that bleated in misery;

no pasture for us, the rain buttoned us like the water

inside a coconut, and we turned extemporaneous prisoners

in the middle of the night.


The rain paid no homage to neither color nor race;

it did no obeisance to a status,

it pecked alike its preys like a woodpecker.


Across divides,

we mobilized like the army ants

to counter the ploy of the rain.

Hasn’t it vaccinated us the spirit of humanism?

For the rain pounded us soft like clay,

our lives stood not the same.






The Ranch House


Sanity scurried far from the ranch house.

Sanctity followed suit in a haste.

Inhabitants scampered about like the chicks

without their mother-hens.

Aggression and disagreement hovered the roofs

in zest as its paramount features.

Although the surrounding was repleted with

assorted rubies, it was built with woods.


In the age of Adam,

the ranch was distinct mud structures

standing sovereign in divine geographies with the

natives in their golden jubilee.

And not unsatisfied with the leads of their unanimous

leaders.


Age the dreads of the gods jolted people to consciousness

that they did not eat the meats of vultures as edibles. Culture

wielded great powers across the lands.

Tradition paid no respect to status nor age. Sanity lived

amicably within the people.

Sanctity was idolized.


But came the foreign vampires with their super arsenals

and pawned off the natives’ lions; mowed down the mud

structures. The distinct lands they conjoined, shoving aside the

security of the natives. And raised an extreme ranch house.

Lo! There commercial center.


Wasn’t the die casted?


Then went away the vampires

leaving behind a conglomerate ranch of Cat and Dog

inhabitants who created bloody scenes in every blink

of the sun’s eye.













A RAVAGING MONSTER

In the naked eye of the sun

innocent red-liquids run across

our bitter land like a running river.


The gentle land has transformed

a ravaging monster ravaging the

inhabitants like a ravaging virus

ravages its victim.


And we are the chicks that scamper

For safety at the incessant attacks of

the monstrous hawks.












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Tonn Villeza Marco I 🇵🇭
Tonn Villeza Marco I 🇵🇭
Jul 19, 2022

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