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Join our ever-growing poetry community to read, discuss and rate existing work from thousands of the best poetry on our database. Some of the works are collectively and individually published by authors and contributing editors. Poets, famous and amateur, are to submit their poems freely without obligation. All poems submitted go live after editorial approval and the poet owns the property right.

Poetry Collections

Riddles

The black one is squatting-the red one is licking
his bottom.
(Cooking-pot and fire)

Two tiny birds jump over two hundred trees.
(Eyes)

The mourner has stopped weeping.
The pitying friend is still crying.
(Rain and the dripping leaves after rain)

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Accident of Fate

If every woman is a concubine of pain
My mother is that everyone –
A shepherdess flocks of pain.
Barely each day gone by without her back
Become animal skin that pastes on a mahogany tree
And beat every day with maestro-stroke of shame.

When you ask who can dance most in public places
Set a cause of rev for her

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Mercurius Gallo-Belgicus

Like Esop’s fellow-slaves, O Mercury,
Which could do all things, thy faith is ; and I
Like Esop’s self, which nothing. I confess
I should have had more faith, if thou hadst less.
Thy credit lost thy credit. ‘Tis sin to do,
In this case, as thou wouldst be done unto,
To believe all. Change thy name ; thou art

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South: The Name of Home

i
all that night
I prayed for eyes to see again
whose last sight
had been
a broken bottle
held negligently
in a racist
fist
God give us trees to plant
and hands and eyes to
love them.

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Chain-song

Ukwa killed Nwaka Dimkpolo
E-e Nwaka Dimkpolo!
Who will punish this Ukwa for me?
E-e Nwaka Dimkpolo!
Matchet will cut up this Ukwa for me?
E-e Nwaka Dimkpolo!
Who will punish this Matchet for me?
E-e Nwaka Dimkpolo!
Blacksmith will hammer it for me?
E-e Nwaka Dimkpolo!
Who will punish this Blacksmith for me?
E-e Nwaka Dimkpolo!

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Tommy

I went into a public-‘ouse to get a pint o’ beer,
The publican ‘e up an’ sez, “We serve no red-coats here.”
The girls be’ind the bar they laughed an’ giggled fit to die,
I outs into the street again an’ to myself sez I:
O it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ “Tommy, go away”;
But it’s “Thank you,

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