Poem #7 In This Garden

The sky is a witness and accomplice to daytime,
Daytime a brightness the night lacked.

Lack is a thing among others your loving ,a midnight thief, took away.

Away with all the noises and stresses of life we are in this garden,

Garden filled with the green of our soulful hearty intentions towards ourselves.

As Ought To Be….

Like one in a dark cell having a peep at the faraway dawning of another day,

I see the world just as it ought to be.

Straight as our dealings with each other,no intellectual robbery in the guise of colonialism.
Every snail moving at its pace towards civilisation.

Straight as with a stray bullet, where all actions are for common good and not whats to be gained in return.
A world guided by humanistic feelings, not one tied together with the bandage of “What goes around come around.”

Poem #5 | Meet me in the Grave

Like the sin of humans,

One could be right to say,

”it has been caused from the onset!.”

Without the knowledge of the “WHOs.” involved.

The Sherif had asked “has anyone entered since he arrived today?.” with all  professional smiles on leaving the room,

The room, now marked, crime scene.

The room, where Mr Locke my Boss, had used as office for almost a decade now.

Shaking my head this way and that, I said, NO.

The firmed locked from the inside window said same thing, same way do the calmed environment/making it a puzzle how its occupant made the journey to the great beyond on the lift of a supposed murderer without a runway of hassle.

Autopsy said he was strangled to death, the camera sees nothing of such, nor does the bodyguard of the vicinity, I.

After weeks of futile investigation, he was buried alongside all hopes to finding the killer and I lived to worry no more about a bossy Boss with eyes for their subordinates’ wives.

NB: Meet me in my grave to share how the murder happened, for I had sworn to take the secret to my grave if God will help me keep the mind of the Dectatives from checking the gloves in the Waste bin at the office.

Poem 4# Marriage: |Relic of Culture

Once I asked my celibate neighbour

“Why ain’t you married.”

Like a tidal boomerang he had thrown back the questions, “why are you married?.”

But while my response were building up like the whirlwind in prep stage,

He added, “begin with a definition of marriage.”

Memory lost won’t take as souvenir the Rememberance I had of how detailed I was answering him.

Had he not listened like a mountain to a flaming bushfire or an Iroko tree nodding only its heads of branches to stormy dam pour?.

Have you a knowledge of the effect of a meeting live wire? the sparks in his eyes at my summarised closure of marriage as ‘social contract’ goes miles beyond that effect.

He said so much, my prejudiced stinginess won’t allowed me to share with you all but, hear this, “contracts, that both contractors had no saying it its foundational pros and cons as marriage is but a Relic of culture!.”.

introduction

Hussein Nuhu is a young Nigerian sociologist and a poet who has the dream of becoming a better creative, he was the assistant curator Naija Haiku 2020, he was the Poetry Editor Vanguard Press UDUS, 2021, he was the third runner up of Naija Haiku Contest 2020,he was the Winner D’LitReview Mini Contest, August, 2022 and also a shortlisted Entrant of 7th Edition Chinua Achebe, The Soul Brother Anthology. His works have appeared or are forthcoming in Umpteen Fondness Anthology, Poetic Duel International anthology; Drum Of Life, Demi gods’ anthology; Boys Are Not Stone and Agbowo Art, Olongo africa, Kalahari Review, Yabaleft Review, Isele Magzine, NeptuPrime, and others. He can be reached on huzeeal@gmail.com and on WhatsApp via 08104580490.

this is my first attempt at a poetry marathon and I hope it will become a memorable one with you all.