Monday, July 1, 2019




Dear Alma Mater
I write you in tears,
As I am filled with fears
I am hopeless
And equally helpless,
I cry regularly
And weep constantly,
Nothing seems to comfort me
Because you are in ruins.

The future is blurred
And the night scary,
The past is 'hurtful'
The present is harmful,
The night is scary
The future is blurred.

Built for the future
To nurture the unborn,
Built for the unborn
To nurture the future,
I weep my Alma mater
For the future is blurred
For the unborn maybe uncultured.

Your buildings dilapidate
Your quarters go obsolete,
Your fields turn bushes
Your courts become plain,
I weep for my Alma mater.

You made queens and angels
Giants and heroines,
You produced great women
Wonders of the world,
Dear Alma mater
My heart bleeds.

Return, return O Shulammite
For your beauty wooed the king,
Return for your scent adorned the prince
Your ornament decorated the chosen
Return my purple gold
Return O my St Catharine's,
For my heart bleeds!


Hungry and thirsty
Lonely and bored
Poor and blind
In the midst of plenty.

Idleness and joblessness
Wishes and dreams,
In the midst of plenty.

Handicapped and constrained
Helpless and hopeless,
Struggles and wars
Ups and downs
Tosses and rebounds
In the midst of plenty.

Rejections and defections
Depressions and retrogressions
Stress and strain
Pain and rain
Anger and rage,
Bitterness and uneasiness
Yet in the midst of plenty.

Uneasiness, unsteadiness
Unhappiness, unforgivenness
In the midst of plenty.


Close your eyes
Let them remain closed
For you must be blind,
Close your mind
Keep them behind
That is the game.

Make no move
Do not disturb
Here to make you absurd
Look down, not above
Remain silent,
This is our game.

Raise no eyebrow
Otherwise before cockcrow
You would be gone
And we will be done,
Keep calm, it is the game
Make no move.

We are hunger
We are starvation
We are hate
We are terrorism,
We are war
We are tsunami
We are crime
Move no inch
You cannot bear our pinch.

We are the game
The silencer
On the game of silence
To silence even the wind,
We quench the fire
We cease the rain
And we cause draught.


The more agendas you unleash
The more I feel finished,
The more your orders proceed
The more I see greed,
The more your troops advance
The more frightened I become,
Dear democracy
I hope you are not a tyrant.

Severally, you have failed me
Times without number, you tricked me
Countlessly, you pranked me
Numerous moments, you blew me
Dear democracy
I hope you are not a sadist.

No oneness, no orderliness
No clarity, no unity
No equity nor equality
No justice but malice
Prejudice even to the novice
No integration, but migration
No solution, but segregation
No harmonization, but discrimination
Only cabal too fatal
Dear democracy
I hope you are not a killer
I pray you are not a terrorist
I believe you are not a racist
And may you not be a tribalist.


NGOZI OLIVIA OSUOHA is a Nigerian poet/writer/thinker, a graduate of Estate Management with experience in Banking and Broadcasting. She has published over one hundred and thirty poems in over ten countries and contributed in over ten international anthologies. Her first two longest poems (poetry books) of 355 and 560 verses THE TRANSFORMATION TRAIN and LETTER TO MY UNBORN published in Kenya and Canada respectively are available on Amazon. She has numerous words on the marble. She also writes hymns and Psalms.

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