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GEORGE AMADI Poems
Barely fifteen painful years gone by, maybe less, the second time it was stood I
New York I Love
Eleven hours' flight to America, Lord, atrocious, stormy weather, my word. But the view from Pan Am, nice load, when over the Atlantic, JFK showed
Oracle, an eclipsed, reddened sun His superstitious mind freaked out. Unrepentant pagans, like him, by an Unquestioned age-long belief, swear;
Ode To Amadi PZ
As kind as anyone ever could be, indeed, special for any not to see. In colours the rainbow to shame, of talents a gift spree all to claim.
Moment Of Truth
When unsure how things would go, afraid, I did not a chance stand, for days on end my plan on hold sat, moment of truth awaited to restart
Winter Of Discontent
Big Apple like a beer glass gleamed; snowed-in roads laid froth-brimmed. Along snaked chained tyres locked, by sweet carols' sing-along mocked.
Which was more fun, Mrs. Langton's Geography class, or, that she was from Australia, yet, what she knew about Down Under's sheep rearing
A Life Of Lies
Lazy bones never on thoughts chew that nearly not as a surprise comes, so, when misery calls, from a tissue of lies, junk, here comes in crumbs.
A Life Of Service
An African night from which At last, A colossus exited, Alas, mourning unrestrained,
My Good Old Benz
Of things great by folks loved aglow, among them, baked beans by Heinz, no real delight like a good old Benz, fact, wherever it goes, that's in tow.
Tucked away from Main Street, my retirement abode, atop a two-storey ramshackle,
Lost For Words
Three frail-looking, seven-year-old boys, Lost for words in a brutal, costly war, Living from hand to mouth, Day by day, at check-points grovelling,
A Wife's Neck Saved
Ijeoma's thoughts freely A course wildy ran Mercilessly, logic, time Crushing
Just For A Day
Were it possible my mother to have with me one more time, a lot more chores would I undertake, unasked, wanting to do more, if she'd let me.
Comments about GEORGE AMADI
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
Barely fifteen painful years
maybe less, the second time
it was stood I
fighting back tears
at the remains of someone,
equally dear to me, since
I couldn't help chuckling
a beloved one,
my favourite younger sister,
a friend beyond compare,
of hurts easily oblivious,
brilliant, sublime, charismatic,
and a rare presence
of mind commanded, ...