The Voice

     THE VOICE
A nation cries out
Loud in pain
For it has lost
One of its greatest voices
A voice of truth
A voice of patriotism
A voice of passion
A voice of creativity
A voice of strength
A voice of African pride
I cry out with my people
For we have lost a writer
An icon to be reckoned with
A man who fights back
Negativity with pen
And paper
A man of many stories
Who told the tale of Africa
In the right perspective.
I mourn such  a great  man
Chinua Achebe will  forever
Be in my heart and forever
Live through my pen.
                                           Wuraola Damilola

What Am I

WHAT AM I?

What am I to you?

Have I become a hoe you can call whenever?

Have I become your main trick who is at your command?

Has my body become a playground where you can deposit your kids

Is there an OPEN or All ACESS sign written on my forehead blinking with colorful lights

Is my leg constantly open for you to be tempted?

Is my HARD, IRON, STEEL GATES for you to open whenever?

Does a phone call represent a signal for me to know it’s time to please you?

ARE my Breasts for you to Cup?

My Butt for you to slap, smack and squeeze

My pussy for your dick to penetrate and fulfill earthly pleasures

Is my VIRGINTY, DIGNITY for you to take?

Is my INNOCENCE for you to turn into guilt?

Is my LIFE dependent on you that I have become your slave to crawl on the ground for you?

Do you see me as nothing but an instrument of SEX?

Am I to make you happy when your girlfriend refuses you?

Am I your last resort?

Am I not good enough to be truly loved?

WHAT AM I TO YOU?

Nothing but a trick, with open access written on her forehead.

the lovepoet