Category : Poetry

AUTHOR – VITE SMITH Great man of valour No joker of his honour Hanged, being a source of hindrance To his master’s perseverance One mom

It was young, gentle but vibrant, trying to be exposed to life’s true essence. Got caught by youthful exuberance, Thrown into the ambience of affection.

Give me back my Port Harcourt My everyday is Christmas Port Harcourt Where the sweet cries of flutes gives dance to our foot Where poverty

Jumping from one bus of sorrow to another Sorrow has become a song we sing Pain and anguish supplying the beat From one bus stop

I am Israel of Africa of love a cheer giver My face is given, a tiller’s dream, a distillers’ gin My arms are wide, because

One truth about life, men are always in search for something. Search for it as much as you can, you can’t find it, I am

Yahweh is real in our everyday experience As we move and have our being When we see the green grasses Sloping, giving us the beauty

Please define happiness And I will round up 100 million men who want to kiss joy But tell me at the cost at which happiness

The first time I heard black is beautiful I wondered how until I saw your pretty black face. You are a true beauty among the

Looking at the earth extremes Of mortal ways, lay drowned dreams and visions alike Propelling saints singing strange song Sending messages of soul sapped with