<!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]--> <!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]--> <!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]--> -allison kulo john email:08056238381; gsm:allisonj70ng@yahoo.com Ded…

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<!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]--> <!--[if !vml]-->Sketches from the Nembe Creek  Poetry<!--[endif]-->

-allison kulo john

email:08056238381;

gsm:allisonj70ng@yahoo.com

Dedication

To mum, Mrs. Darling Allison –Kulo and late Dad, Chief I.S Allison-kulo both all of Nembe extraction. Also, Peace Jaja, my true love!

Acknowledgement

Thanks to all the girls that I have loved before, for they present a mosaic of inspiration that culminated into my freelance ride through the smooth and beautiful streets of poetry. Also, the Department of Architecture, University of Nigeria where very nearly everyone I met inspired, provoked creativity.

This piece is a taste of its fruit.

Preface

The poems contained herein were not intended to offend or bring joy, but just for record. It is more like a running commentary of events (political social economic and environment) that perturb me since I became familiar with the beauty and potentials of poetry To those who are offended. forgive while to those who find joy extend it. Predominantly, lyric poetry is employed covering ballads, sonnets.

allison john arc. Jan2006

Table of Contents

Dedication

Acknowledgement

Preface

Shadows of love

Eyes on Iran

Who is Primitive?

Niger Delta Icon

Tree- top Rosita

My Dream School

Greet My Love

<!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]-->Shadows of love

Hit but don’t hate

Drub but don’t drop

Forgive but don’t forget

Ask but don’t axe

Don’t say you can’t

It’s all that count!

Eyes on Iran

I ran

To Iran

A target is real

<!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]-->A target Israel

<!--[if !vml]-->

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<!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]-->I ran

To Iran

<!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]-->A conspiracy I see

<!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]-->A sad Syria sin

I ran

To Iran

Behold chain of tunnels

Train of camels

Iran crook humps

Syria nuke bomb!

Who is Primitive?

<!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]-->My voice rage from the Stone Age

Spare me my rest

My knowledge your foundation rest

My achievements take no hostage

My voice rage from the Stone Age

Spare me my route

Your arrogance despised your roots

Your pain acknowledge

Restful smile in my flame

Extinction tears in your fame

My children insane

My unborn in pain

Who is primitive, smile or fear?

With your hands you share!

Tree –top Rosita

Tree-top tree-top, a baby smells

<!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]-->Flood pain Mozambique smiles

<!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]-->Tree-top tree-top, Rosita is born

<!--[if !vml]-->

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Tree-top tree-top, the leaves curdles

<!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]-->Flood rain, Iroko cuddles

<!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]-->Tree-top tree-top, baby is born

Flood pain, Mozambique burr

<!--[if !vml]-->

<!--[endif]-->


<!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]-->Tree-top tree-top, a baby smells

Far near, come to see

<!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]-->Flood pain, faded yet smells

Gift food, hunger flee

Tree top tree top, a baby smell

Flood pain Mozambique smiles

<!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]-->


<!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]-->My dream school

<!--[if !vml]-->

<!--[endif]-->


<!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]-->Thy wisdom and knowledge sparkles

<!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]-->Above throne of stars

<!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]-->Princeton, a golden bit you are

<!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]-->In a bitmaps of sparkles

<!--[if !vml]-->

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Greet my L’ve

Give her my word

Not to be mourn!

<!--[if !vml]-->Cloud Callout: Not to be mourn!<!--[endif]-->My sword

I’ve sworn

Not to be mourn

O! Tsunami

Full of rage obsessed with love

O! Mon-Ami

<!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]-->Gone like a Dove

<!--[if !vml]-->

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My tears greet you

Drowning voice praise you

I’ve kept my date

Not death

O! Tsunami

O! Mon- Ami

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