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Oh Sweet Love







Pius Has







Votophics Media

VOTOPHICS BOOKS

Published by Votophics Media

+234-706-8435-789



Smashwords Edition



Copyright © P. A. Has, 2017

All rights reserved



This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

CHAPTER 1. OH, SWEET LOVE



Maiden of hope, how

Enchanting are your values! How

Ravishing is your glory, with

Curves of admiration. I daily

Yearn for your warm embrace.

Sit in my bosom, sweet, I’ll whisper

‘Happy birthday to you’,

Obstruct not my move,

Let me kiss your gracious lips,

Soft and tender with your love.

For my love, Mercy S., on her 21 first birthday,

CHAPTER 2. I CANNOT LET YOU BE



I cannot let you be,

I cannot let you be.

My soul is knit with yours,

And though the earths do roar,

My leave shall you not see,

Nor can I let you be.



Long path have my heart trod,

Unharmed by all life’s fraud;

If now you turn me back,

When emptied of my pack,

And left lone and unshod,

Away may I not prod.



I cannot let you stray,

I cannot let you stray,

Though you choose to desist

While I opt to persist,

I shall earnestly pray

That you go not astray.

Baby, stay with me,

Till I see wrinkles on your face!

CHAPTER 3. I’M NOT A NIGERIAN



I’m not a Nigerian,

At least, not so any longer,

For I’m free from this clan

Where I’ve been taken a stranger

Who’s depraved rights of a member,

And fed with mere bread crumbs.



How can I be a Nigerian

With no rights to the seat of power?

How can I face constant mute ban

While lost amidst vile power mongers?

So, I choose to live behind bars

Than to thrive free as a slave born.



I choose to be called a Biafran,

For that’s what I was born to be:

To walk free and have what I can;

To not e’er fret nor even flee

From my home as though chased by bees

Found in the land wherein I toil.



I’m not a Nigerian free born,

For I’m born a true Biafran child

To tread safe upon my own lawn,

Unfazed by the bloodletting tides

Of some senseless steel steering wilds

Threatened by my skilled gold bound quests.

CHAPTER 4. LOVE TREATISE



Love is the beauty describing two hearts,

And to love is as strange as the abstract,

For love can mostly be found where not sought;

There, it is unsoiled with lust or vain thoughts,

Though passions rise and crash;

For ‘tis passion that drives us to lost love,

Uncontrolled, it drives us to lust filled love.

Truly, if love is lost, it can be found,

But if love is lust, it is to be ground,

Or retraced to old pure paths.

My heart did find love in the unlikely place:

It is the act of God, in spite of men’s spite.

CHAPTER 5. THIS WORLD WE LIVE IN



This world we live in,

Full of gains and woes

Among all the living,

With their friends and foes;



This world, so I said:

Don’t be careful in it,

Then, you’re sold to fade.

For, in it, you are hardly fit.



Pilgrims in days gone by,

With lives peacefully troubled,

Lived without ever been shy;

And so, they never crumbled.



Men of the day, awake!

For the dusk draws on:

What have you to make,

Ere the day is gone?



Children of the land, sleep!

Though the dawn comes by,

Isn’t it better you let it slip?

Rest, till the sun shines in the sky.



This world we live in;

It is it I talk about.

CHAPTER 6. THE BROKEN POT



The pot is broken,

The oil is frozen;

Who there has something to say?

Be quick and no longer stay:

Make it short,

Then return to your old hut.



So, he is gone.

You grinned with fun.

He never did think he could die;

Come see now how he lies:

He cannot doubt it

Nor can he again with life hit.



How does he look,

While in the hook?

You whispered sweetly in your mind;

The casket is so good for his kind,

His dress is fine

As good as mine!



I knew it so well,

Your head’s now swell;

Where you are, I’ve been before,

Here I am, you will be for sure!

The still only whispered,

But your heart is already shattered.

CHAPTER 7. THE SUBTLE DOVE



Lo and behold:

The gentle kidnapper,

Creeping in silently

Like a peaceful serpent

That caught, unawares,

The emotions of men;



Lo and behold:

The subtle dove,

With its eerie looks

And happy loots,

Smiling mischievously

With a stern face,

Void of forewarning

To a cold mind

Looking so unwilling;



Lo and behold:

The unwelcome friend

Whose self invitation

Seems quite sudden,

And calls unexpected

On all and sundry;

One at a time,

More at a time:

At the slightest blink

Of a twinkling eye;



Lo and behold:

The faithful enemy

That cares for all,

Bringing sudden peace

In distress times,

With costly quietness

To a pained soul;

And lasting rest

For the worried mind;



Lo and behold:

The shrewd fellow,

Having no feelings

For the great loss

It brings to mates

Of the now frozen flesh.

Oh! What a loss,

With much gain

To friends

Who miss a mate

To save a purse;



Lo and behold:

The impartial judge,

Giving equal respect

To all it would,

Knowing no poor,

Neither is any rich

In its view,

But firm and strict,

With love and justice

Making decisions

For all alike;



Lo and behold:

The gate to life,

Registering peace

To the hopeful soul;



Lo and behold:

The anguish threshold,

Full of sorrow

For the fearful heart

Knowing no more

Than mere good

And a better evil;



Oh! How wicked,

You loving one,

It is

To make us sad

When you grip

Our happy being

With cold hands

While we are

At the unguarded hour;

No sooner,

Nor then, just late,

But as you chose,

So you rose

On all;



Thanks for all

Your kind heart

And awful ways.

CHAPTER 8. THE GENTLE NIGHT BREEZE


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