Love Is Not Worth The Trouble

Love Is Not Worth The Trouble

I am your friend
Yet you'll watch me descend
I love you
Yet you won't want me above you

Of what good is love
If it still kills you?
Your friendship is like what?
A spittle in the dust
A puff of smoke in a storm
A message on the beach
Washed away by the retreating tide

Love is not worth the trouble
If it still drags me to the rubble
Love is not worth the stress
If it leaves me in distress

(C) Kay Ugwuzor
3-1-2015

Comments

The Famished Road | Readings

‘If you misbehave the same thing will happen to you.’ ‘What?’ ‘The forest will swallow you.’ ‘Then I will become a tree,’ I said. ‘Then they will cut you down because of a road.’ ‘Then I will turn into the road.’ ‘Cars will ride on you, cows will shit on you, people will perform sacrifices on your face.’ ‘And I will cry at night. And then people will remember the forest.’ Azaro and Madame Koto Excerpt from The Famished Road By Ben Okri. Pg 164 Azaro is surrounded by myths and mysterious things that no ...

A New Dream Of Politics | Ben Okri | Poetry

They say there is only one way for politics. That it looks with hard eyes at the hard world And shapes it with a ruler’s edge, Measuring what is possible against Acclaim, support, and votes. They say there is only one way to dream For the people, to give them not what they need But food for their fears. We measure the deeds of politicians By their time in power. But in ancient times they had another way. They measured greatness by the gold Of contentment, by the enduring arts, The laughter at the hearths, The length of silence when the bards Told of what was done by those who Had the courage to make their lands Happy, away from war, spreading justice And fostering health, The most precious of the arts Of governance. But we live in times that have lost This tough art of dreaming The best for its people, Or so we are told by cynics And doomsayers who see the end Of time in blood-red moons. Always when least expected an un...

In The Eyes Of A Mad Man

In The Eyes Of A MadMan A mad man sees things that no one else sees and he laughs because the things he sees are beautiful. Nnadi, a young man newly entering his second decade in Umuturu village, placed a pad upon his shoulder and lifted the basket of cassava onto it. He whistled as he plotted his way out of the farm wielding his knife against the undergrowth, the farm had yielded generously this season. The plot, well placed at the side of the hill–when the rains came, the water would rush calmly through – near the market, was the source of a tension between his father and an uncle after their father died. A legal battle had named Nnadi’s father the owner of the land. Nnadi walked away from the farm in his stoutly gait. He stared at the palm trees along the farm and could see red ripening nkwu, he made a mental note to come back for them. Suddenly he saw a bird coming at him hastily out of nowhere, its wings were steady, and it seemed to glide. He thought, as all birds did, th...

Kay Ugwuzor

Search This Blog