By Nehi Igbinijesu
Go from us, thou fleeting year
Depart with all your fear
The blood, and grim for all we care
Your time was all but fair
Tarry not a dreary day longer
They bombed, some died
And the rest pointed fingers
During weeks you did provide
You a dirge I write
For blood drunken you heave
A sigh, a playful plight
At many souls you did bereave
O twisted twenty twelve
The weeks of bleeding blood
Bowels bursting undeserved
Bombs, crashings and many floods
Days in salient suffering
Subsidy and occupy rallies
And bullets in streets reeling
There was a country
In peace, once we knew
Until bastards awoke
Plummets, shacks and shrivels
With fear you did evoke
This Poem is part of the anthology of 30 Poems titled: “Dirges of The Niger” By Nehi Igbinijesu.
