Stillborn

by Iwuagwu_Ikechukwu

It is of futility a foresight
to relate the Africa's giant future site

Her rind, six decades to be very soon
Had witnessed shades of pogroms under the sun and moon

It is heard, the voices of many seas
Yet, lands fertile with aridness is all she sees

Nibs of authority always ready to write
Lies become true, wrong becomes right

Her anthem, a gyre of gambits
whose implication oozes in trickling tit-bits

Perhaps the genesis of her sickness
was the Berlin 1886 madness

Garage sick from phantoms, ghosts, Benz and gulfstreams
Economy healthy from steady diet of rape and her-screams

Reptiles gulp down tenders to their stretch
crowning the citizen a wretch

Today like a dance in the market square
dancing in rhythm-less circles becomes our share

Perhaps you see letters to be read
I see reality protesting, clad in red


285th Weekly Poetry Contest
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Comments

Clarice Hare's picture
There are some great phrases and images here, like the "rind" of Africa, "a gyre of gambits" and "phantoms, ghosts, Benz and Gulfstreams" (I'm guessing the latter should be capitalized because it's referring to the brand of private jet?) But the rhymes seem sort of forced and make the whole thing feel less serious than it should. I feel like it would be improved by abandoning rhyme and thus the need for cliched phrases like "under the sun and moon" or weird stretches like "her-screams" (which just makes me cringe for some reason!)

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