​For these flowers would still bloom for you, even in concrete.

I call this alchemy,

I call it magic,

 My soul is knit, and the entire tapestry 

is a single feeling of complete. 

this must be how God feels.

 of what use is the universe if I cannot breed your warmth?

this is where I have put my breath, in your petals, lily, 

in your petals,

twin moon to my world

i have cast my nets into the sea that is your eyes,

& I’d remain ashore,

you who is air, end & a cluster of flowers burst in rain,

I would throw your name into the afternoon wind, 

stretching it into the corners of places distant, 

I would say I love you in different tongues,

I would write it on your tongue.



If you would turn,

that is,

cast just a single gaze at me,

you would see the  river that  leads back home.

It’s waters are rising

ebbing, swelling,

falling in drops.
Every single tear carries your face,


like altar boys with holy bread.
So if you’d still leave,

Go now.

  do not look back.

I would be the night clouds,

without moonlight 

 in search of little stars that would be light.
Do not miss my presence ,

I would be the prodigal finding happiness in lost lands.

My roots spreading, searching for new soil.
But if you, 

like the wild birds that fly miles back to their home,

come back to me,

In the light of your dawn,

all darkness of mine shall be undone.

all days before that day erased

all earlier words  rephrased and lost in the welcome of your eyes.
 I would  be a wild flower and a blooming  rainbow 

Unfolding,  revealing,  restating my love for you 

In a splash of colours.

_pic credit: Ani Brendan_____________

Gbazango’s Cry.

There’s a lot of  hate in our country these days.  People are constantly being hated on the lines of ethnic and religious bigotry.

The whole world is screaming ‘black lives matter ‘ truth is,  everywhere all lives truly matter. All lives are sacred. 

Embrace and spread peace. 

Gbazango’s cry. 

(For Mrs Eunice Elisha, hacked to death  on by extremists as she was preaching in Gbazango, kubwa, Abuja and other many souls who have gone in same manner. May they rest in peace) 

I did not die for a god 
I am another martyr  of a country

that mouths  Yahweh  and Allah but worships  armageddon.
When my cries drowned that of  the muezzin,

the Quran and the Bible became a blank sheet.

It’s for Jesus and Mohamed to count  tally 

-the devil will settle scores. 
my soul is in a bus filled with my country men 

someone is trying to say a prayer

and  all that comes out is hell. 


Fire in souls,  fire in hearts that burn out  the good in a god. 
Country man,

I did not go with the ash

I remain in the plaintive  song on my children’s  tongue.

My children and yours will sing  someday 

not in a difficult language,

or in tongues,

but in a language where our gods know their names 

and call them fondly.

Morning with you. 

Like all my nights

I thought you’d  disappear with the fading of the liquor.

before you, 

 i was a bus without a stop 

driven by drunk drivers 

who chose to take me nowhere.

 i was a carnival of masquerades 

 unveiling their shadows 

after a couple of festivals.

my body – a map of crumbled cities

that bore roads to every stranger 

that walked on each one of them.
so you see, i know good bye so well,

like I know the echo of my own name.
So when you knocked 

there were no butterflies 

they had ceased to fly

 crickets swarm in my insides 

and asked me to run. 


that you were another one.
but bodies speak a different language 

they speak  the language of magnets

so while you stood,

i longed to cling to  your metals

like I always do

without expecting anything in return,

like I have learnt to do

and in a single night 

you became electricity 

you became music

you became light

you unfolded all my nights 

and I became a baby new born

knowing for the first time 

the feel of morning.


I need you as a dark night craves stars
as paint loves the canvas
as a hungry child craves biscuits
as a baby needs his mother’s tits.

I need you like air,
breathe you in me and keep you here
stored in my lungs
your scent burnt on my bones.

I need you, and I mean all of you
like a nut needs a screw
For this feeling is rhythm and blues
meant for grooving two’s

I love you and this poem
breathes my love for you in rhyme
for you are my emblem, my totem
My sin, my addiction,  my crime.


Pic credit:bk the artist.




Midnight is not for witches
Flying on broomsticks
Midnight is not for the last drunkard at the bar
Or  day for the last stripper clad in  her bra.
Midnight is for the dreamer blessed with
joseph joys.
It is  when mermaids play with thier mortal toys.
Midnight is  for the spirits  watching the moon
It is  for the old man replaying his fav’ tune.
Midnight is the earth giving us dreams
For our weary minds to join in immortal  hymns.
Midnight is our soul’s day.
It is when spirits and poems gather to play.

With so much love. Edozie✔



Maiden of the  night,
Through the corridors of my dreams
I approach your queenly  sight
Luminous beauty
Ethereal creature of the sea
Lead me down the ocean stair
To the depths of our watery lair
Your servants  from upper waters descend
-thier coastal queen – they readily attend
Rushling  swishy swashing  thier fish tails
To come squeal to you gossips of immortal tales
Let me sip from your immortal lips,
That life giving kiss
Nestle your lips on my lips,
And let’s make haste to make the running night slow
For you know my spirit returns to my body
When the moon loses it’s glow.
O!  Succubus, make me forget this spiritual tryst
So when I wake up in the morn to the reality that the sun brings
Let me  blame the sticky liquid on my trousers on wet dreams.