Literary Works

Time by Inkspill

Time does not wait when the clock is brokenQuiet is the sound of the hanging clock but soon a month slips awayWe can never say when the new beard arrived TimeThe gallant traveller going nowhereThe wealth of the newborn,The ambitious passerby never stopping for a greet TimeWho owns you?Debt in our pockets.And we pay gradually,In …

LENS

Hey! How’s your day coming? How’d your day go? How. . .so I thought to drop this apostrophe. Hope you love it! Times I be struck with myopia, but you were always there; a correcting lens. With you the world looks beautiful; an effulgence of the beauty you have beneath this frame. You surprise me …

Wooing mum

Wooing Mum

Recently, I’ve been trying my hands on prose and guess what. . .it feels rosy, but you might have another opinion. This was one of the pieces I wrote for a writing challenge on Facebook, others to come up soon. Read, and tell me what you felt. “If you want to woo a man, cook …

Breath To A Flame

These words keep escaping with the void I find myself, so I breathe… Whether slowly or fast paced, these itching ears begin to writhe; Far from home, but no spidey senses, It’s strange, but the doctor isn’t me; I’ve sinned a lot like Constantine, even hell isn’t sure anymore. Tell this to the devil, “Hell …

Broken Pieces

Uche, a friend of mine, and I decided to share wits on same topic, and here’s what we have, enjoy: Broken pieces write the most. Their etches are not understood, so they hurt the most. They lie without form, the same way their shattered peace took; And their tiny grains of charity still goes with …