poems

Mary Amaka 

She wasn't like the rest of them. Always went to church With that particular green skirt that swept the crooked roads as she walked by Or was it the black one with yellow flower prints? In her hand, she held a black book When asked, she would tell us, ''It's the goose-pel, Father say it's… Continue reading Mary Amaka 

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Goldcolât

​She wasn't chocolate dipped in gold She was gold, dipped in chocolate.  Forged in the hottest part of the world, made to endure pains. Hard enough to withstand anything but just as soft on the inside.  Pure gold dipped in chocolate embroidered with elegance, grace and a crown that sits perfectly on her head. She's… Continue reading Goldcolât