Poetry

Fred Marie photo

By

Samuel Nzebor

Comfort Zone

A room where I get to reside,

Play, pray and place

My stubborn ears.

I have to listen to the cracking wall

And the cry of wanton men.

Maybe I’d be next

As the chamber we dread calls me

In my sleep.

I’ve heard stories of the outside world,

How democracy has been made a slave.

I’m sitting here alone,

Wondering if I will be ever free

To fly my way round town.

But the more I think of the pack

Of rabid wolves displacing

Men and eating their children,

The more I bury the thought of being free

Down the darkness that comes every day.

I am a free man

Locked away for his own good.

I wish I could stand up for the people,

But I’m no one-man army.

Armistice

We shook hands with our makers,

They who tore our back

And tendered our sores with pepper.

With their cold hands

Our feet burned

And most of our hearts danced with death.

They treated us with pain and got great gains,

Until we paid Ares history dues.

We told them we would come for their heads,

But they laughed at us

And agreed nonchalantly.

We killed the lot of them

At the cost of our heads.

Now we must burn our dead

And feed our victims to the crows.

Samuel Nzebor

My name is Nzebor Samuel. I’m a student of the University Of Benin, Nigeria, currently studying law. I love reading poetry and fictional books when I’m not inundated with school work. I am a Christian and I stand for justice.