April 12, 2018 Poetry , POETRY / FICTION

Eric Kanalstein/UN photo



Ngozi Olivia Osuoha




Ages Of War



Ages of war

Shattering our wages,

Dragging us to the edges

And bruising our hedges.


Ages of pain

Boiling the rain,

Heating our stain

And fading our gain.


Ages of fears

Flowing like tears,

Pumping our rears

And scorching our wears.


Ages of sorrow

Selling tomorrow,

Buying a hollow

And living on borrow.


Ages of violence

Clamping on pretence,

Leaning on negligence

And lacking sense.


Ages of turmoil

Losing the oil,

Loving the toil

Buried in the soil.


Ages of oppression

Hanging on suppression,

Without suggestion

And busy with destruction.


Ages of wickedness

Flagged by crookedness,

Ages of darkness

Ruined by backwardness.


Ages of lust

Tasting the dust,

Nothing is just

All a terrible must.


Ages of torture

Without a lecture,

Finding no gesture

And dying in pressure.


Ages of death

No air, no breath

Ages at length

No cure, no strength.


Ages of war

Bombs and missiles

Ages of war

Children melting like tiles.


Ages O Ages

War O War.





Words On My Mirror



Never ever think heavens will fall, heavens will never ever fall.

If people, events and or things still surprise you, prepare then for loads of misfortunes.

Politics is the government of a family, clique, and cabal by a family, clique and cabal for a family, clique, and cabal.

There are certainly things not meant for certain people.

Many a time, norms and values do not follow the bandwagon.

Quarrels do not disappear in marriage, think not otherwise.

If being sexy is a compliment, then it does not befit me because I don’t ply that route.

Guidelines and principles equally apply in thick forest and dry wilderness.

If you aimlessly hit a target, choose between hitting aimlessly and carefully.

Traces of superstition may not be truthful.





O How!



We thought they were strong,

So we trusted them,

O how weak they are

By betraying us.


We thought they were godly

So we prayed with them,

O how demonic they are

By possessing us.


We thought they were humans

So we lived with them

O how barbaric they are

By devouring us.


We thought they were heroes

So we adored them

O how devastating they are

By crushing us.


We thought they were models

So we looked up to them,

O how disappointing they are

By deceiving us.


We thought they were divine

So we hoped on them

O how abyssal they are

By digging us.







A Deep Little Piece



Do not flirt with those who can flip you,

Do not crush on those who can crush you.


Flirt not with people lest they flip you,

Crush not on people lest they crush you.


Dreams are not realities

Realities are neither dreams,

However, realities could be dreams.


Remember, slow seems the time

But steady ticks the hands,

And none dares stop,

For what will be will be

Because what is written is written.






Ngozi Olivia Osuoha

Ngozi Olivia Osuoha Is a Nigerian graduate of Estate Management with experience in Banking and Broadcasting. She has published over one hundred poems in over ten countries. Her two longest poems of 355 and 560 verses are available on amazon, THE TRANSFORMATION TRAIN and LETTER TO MY UNBORN respectively. She is a passionate African ink.

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