The Writers Voice
The World's
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Oh, You Poet
by
Onyenuchie Ikpeka
The words in a pot for the poets
To probe and prone to prime
Some porous words, pose to hold the world,
Against the offensive effect,
The scroll that hunt the soul.
The world in a scroll, a defective scroll
With effect like corrosive rust,
A defect we must detect
And control now it contract us.
An illusive words with corruptive mood
That mold our hold.
Digress now, or embrace disgrace
From the humble words and noble rules
That can't be bribe to keep our pride
Oh, you poets.
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