Tuesday, October 19, 2010


The closing of the eyelids,
The fluttering of their sight,
They see all things in reverse,
They wait for time to start.

The nodding of their heads,
You wonder, are they falling dead?
The state of their mind,
You wonder, are thy packing out?

They slouch their backs,
Releasing one or two farts,
They sag their heads,
Releasing one or two drips,

Opportunity came knocking,
They didn’t hear because they were sucking.
Greatness passed through,
They only remembered to prepare their beds.

The birds chirped,
The sun shone,
The stars twinkled,
The sun set,
And then it rose again.

The mice ate,
The kids played,
They only awoke,
To see the darkness of the sky.

They awake to emptiness,
Not just the bareness of the table,
Not just the bareness of the pot,
But of their lives.

Indeed a little sleep,
A little slumber,
A little folding of the hands,
And poverty cometh like a thief,
Simply to steal the sleeper.

By Somto Stella Okeke