In Flying Colours Poem by casmire Odinakachi Emeribe

Four years has while away
after the bloodless battles
of nine unarmed soldiers
the test my mental fist
how mastery I could hold my pen.
I called it 'four years of miserable sojourn'
So fruitless it was
Thank God as it has always been
A testimony here,
Praise the lord, I was enroll
It seems a miracle not merit
On my great exertion, comes I to the citadel of learning
Listen! As mother could say-
That it is a place of light and darkness
none of them would be there for me
to say keep doing it right
wherefore her saying, I heed.
I wish to learn the best,
of everything I want.
My cradle then are my teachers
at the molding process, they aren't at their best
that was their wrong deed.
I was like a tendril without stake,
My brain is dull cos you refuse
To tell me the path to take.
I discover the mystery of reading,
Perusing and browsing through pages
Learn a lot hidden in between lines
Where fore, reading is a worthy teacher,
Worth teach wide.