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      What do you’ve for me?


      I had strength and charisma;

      You snatched them from me like an armed robber.

      I had dreams, hopes, and goals;

      You smashed them like eggs on a tree trunk.

      I had self-confidence, self-image, and power;

      You, like juice squishier, drained them.

      I had tears, which carry away pains when they trickle,

      And flows like water dropping out from a rock;

      All is gone, dry like harmattan hiding in a naked well.

      Do I have anything left?

      I’ll find out, but before then, may I ask you again,

      What do you want from me?

      My life belongs to me; it is my ship,

      And I want to be its captain.



                                     Uzoma R. Ezekwudo 

               All Copyrights Reserved. Motherland 2004.

Image by naraa .in.ub


The Barack Tears

Let the eyes speak what they see and feel:

The passing of the mighty wave of “Change,

The emergence of hope, unity, motivation, inspiration, 

And peace we could believe in.”


It’s the emancipation of the world,

The damn and down of racial prejudices-

When you shed the Barack tears,

You’ve witnessed the making of a great history, so


Let the tears roll down –

They are honoring history,

The birth of a new beginning,

The repudiation of skin colors and name tags;


Let the tears roll down –

They are the songs- the world has overcome.

They are repelling and reforming patriotism,

Capturing and catapulting human equality.


Let the tears roll down –

They are invigorating a new movement,

Purifying the centuries’ toxic-ridden air

That retarded the world’s reunion and happiness


Let the tears roll down –

Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. had a dream,

But I never thought or dared imagine

That my eyes will witness this bold shift,

Not to mention being humble to shed,


The Barack Tears.


                                    Uzoma R. Ezekwudo     

All Copyrights Reserved. Motherland 2008.

Image by Sharon McCutcheon


 Romantic Killer   

 Don’t Be Carried Away--------

 A sweet word, the icing on the cake, is a beauty queen.

 It wears sweet fragrances and stands out gracefully.

 It illuminates among others majestically.

 When it fills your ears, you hear its ravishing melodies.

 When it enters your head, you feel caressed and larger than life.

 When it dives into your brain, you live in the rosy world.

 When it blurs your vision, you see the best exotic colors.

 When it possesses your heart, you live in denials.

 Beware, if the words are always what you want to hear,

          You’re on a heartbreaking trip.



                                                    Uzoma R. Ezekwudo                

                           All Copyrights Reserved. Motherland 2004.

Barefoot Couple

A Woman's Body

A woman's body,

Her shrine, esteem, and etiquette;

-Is not a piece of toy to coerce.

-Is not a public park for funfair.

-Is not a softball, or a pressure bag

to squash, bump into, and punch around to ease off sentiments.


A woman's body,

Her birthright, dignity, and private property,

Is her supreme jurisdiction;

She decides what goes in and out of it.

Does she deserve to be violated? 

Do you say she is paranoid for daring to say, "NO,"     

to an unbidden infatuation?


                           Stalking, what's that?

An MO for daunting a person -

A disheartened gift I'll not offer my enemy.

Unless you're immune to violence,

You are a potential victim.

Listen to me, listen good… 


 A Violation,

It is a breach of human rights.

It disparages a woman's image, purity, and pride.          

A perpetrator's forceful demand for passion—

Is a wrongful entry into her sanctuary;

It leaves her forever insecure and venerable. 

                        --It is unlawful—


Listen carefully; a violation

puts a woman's body in turbid and bungle --

She never feels her real self again after. 

She lives every day like a wrecked ship.

Can anyone relax or sleep soundly in a 

House with broken locks, or a besieged home?


A stalker,

Lives in the limbo city of love;

He sees nothing but himself as the king in this city. 

He hovers over his victims like a hawk and strikes when it pleases him.



The primary preys, especially at work,

have rights, values, and self-worth.

Predators must understand that

--Violation is 'O' tolerance-  

We demand our respect and freedom everywhere.

We'll not let flies infest us like unprotected food

or jeopardize our lives, health, safety, and opportunities.


Did I hear you right?

"It's the victim's responsibility to stay safe!"

Yours is to label and to save your reputation. 

We are talking about LIFE here.  

Would you have done something to protect the 

Fallen Victims, if they had reported the predators to you?


Could some of them still be alive today if you had helped them?  

Who will be the next victim?


Hear me out and loud;

Women do not need Opinions and Assumptions.

We need facts, common sense, and actions. 

We need protections—

If women work for you, you owe them,


--"Harassment-Free" work place--


                                                Uzoma R. Ezekwudo         

                  All Copyrights Reserved. Motherland 2004.

Portrait of a Smiling Woman with Curly H



                   Columbia Street,

 how peaceful and soothing you look this early morning,

 Running like a fresh, quiet river; so, refreshing as I walk through the   campus.

 How different you look when a bevy of diversified students across the   world

 marching through the unofficial queue, swoop down upon you,

 like ants carrying foods, some going up, some coming down, and some   singing

 “Excuse Me.” as they bump into one another.

 Cars hang out like clothes on lines, as impatient as students jumping into   the pedestrian.  While the car horns exacerbate the violation of your   beauty, the drivers have no choice,

 but to take a breath,

                         “Slow Down.” - “STOP.”  Student Crossing.

                         Columbia Street,     

 A stranger right now can’t imagine how alluring you could be,

 but I am not one and I know you.


                                                                        Uzoma R. Ezekwudo

                                                        All Copyrights Reserved. Motherland 2004.

Image by Cristiano Temporin





 The World,       

 Is a coat of many colors.

         See it, if you have sight.

 Touch it if you have feelings.

         Admire it if you have values.

 Experience it if you have aspirations.

         Enjoy it if you are artistic.


              The world,

 Is the best arts and crafts market that exists.

 It showcases races, colors, talents, and beauties that make living exciting.

 Imagine how boring it’d have been if everything is                             - Undifferentiated -



                                                                                                                       Uzoma R. Ezekwudo                    

      All Copyrights Reserved. Motherland 2010

Earth and Space



When we make those

Little sacrifices for others --

True, not our job -

We see smiles on the faces around us.

We radiate happiness, boost the

Morals of others and ourselves --

We make a difference.

To be human is to be imperfect,

We are, too.



                        Uzoma R. Ezekwudo                                              All Copyrights Reserved. Motherland 2004.



Pedagogues are the real gems -- 

Like precious stones, they provide perpetual treasures and

are our future supporters; 

What could I have done without them?


Their contribution to education condemns

Them to low profile lifestyles; they’re devoted to humanitarian

acts like martyrs;

Indeed, pedagogues are the real gems.


They nurture our brains like babies; we cling to the hems.

Of their intelligence, and they delicately and patiently carry us

like mothers --

What could I have done without them?



Their magic touches students’ brain stems;                  

As we ascend our destined mountains’ peaks, they provide learning tools like porters;

Pedagogues are the real gems.


If they ever get credit, they come in grams;

Often, we forget we’re fresh clay they molded into beautiful assorted wares like potters --

What could I have done without them?


As a student, I have found diamonds, sapphires, rubies, and gold;

I am delighted to tell you, they have enhanced my wealth of knowledge; they are brain sorters;

Pedagogues are the real gems –


And what could I have done without them?  

                                                          Uzoma R. Ezekwudo                             

                               All Copyrights Reserved. Motherland 2004.

Teacher Assisting a Student


Your gift,


Is about something special, unique, and ambiance -

It’s not about health, dearth, wealth, or status quo -

It’s about you, your being, and why you are a part to

support a humongous system. 

Your gift is a moiety, like a brick in the foundation of a mansion, pledging support.

Every gift count, to close a loop-  

Now is the time, explore yours.  

If you’re here for a reason, you need to Seal your

space and solidify the world. 


           Uzoma R. Ezekwudo                                                      

          All Copyrights Reserved. Motherland 2006.

Image by Brad Fickeisen


Brother of Mr. Late


You can’t reset the hands of the clock, 

So, sieve before you trash.

He said, she said, they said, are grapevines…

Be the persecutor, the executor, the adjudicator -- 

Be the attorney, a panel of justice member, whatever, 

But ensure your touch maintains the right balance.  


Sitting on the edge of your chair may hunt you someday.  

The truth is often resilient; 

You don’t want its force to knock you down; when 

It flips your seat like Mohammed Ali sooner after.

Stay balanced the algebra way; 

f(x+y) = f(x)+f(y); therefore, 

J(VP+VD) = J(VP)+ J(VD),

where J = Judgement, 

V = voice, P = plaintiff and D = defendant.


Since emotion is strong, you’ve bagged a job of 

Sustaining the facts; otherwise, you’ve turned

yourself into a victim of ‘Guilty Conscience.’             

Later, you wish you had known;

You wish you had listened…

Oh, you should have thought twice?

Then you wish you had done this… 

If only you could do that… 

You need peace of mind; 


        -- Wishful thinking –

Had I Known is only the brother of Mr. Late

Who usually shows up after the facts.


--Sorry, but giving CPR to a dead body is useless.          



                        Uzoma R. Ezekwudo                                                        All Copyrights Reserved. Motherland 2004.

Writers Are Nature-Nurture
Image by Greg Rakozy

Nature creates writers

Writers learn styles

Styles enrich creativity

Creativity decorates the universe

Universe enjoys the glamour

Glamour elevates eternity

Eternity sprouts generations

Generations make the world

The world embodies nature,

Writers, styles & creativity


Uzoma R. Ezekwudo

Copyright © 2001 Motherland Inc.  All rights reserved.

To a Vain Man


Don't plunge me like a fish into your river of love --

It's shallow; I could not swim. 



Don't coat me like a cake with the too-sweet icing of your words --

It's too sugary; who could stomach it?



 I'm no airy butterfly to be dazzled by the pollen of your praises --

I know a dry meadow when I see one. 



You're the only one who believes such gorgeous lies!



Uzoma R.  Ezekwudo   



Copyright © 2001 Motherland Inc. All rights reserved.

Geometric Highway

Live; Don't Just Exist.

He cares deeply, hence his goodwill message --

                   Be responsible; be active; time waits for no man.


Make your bed your style, and enjoy it all alone;

                  Your life is in your palm, so live it as you wish.


If you invest it in something meaningful, awesome;

You have my blessings, and I will be there for you.


Should you prefer to roam the streets, it’s good too;

I am bound to respect your decision as an adult.


You may decide not to work, but sleep all day long;

It is also acceptable; what you want comes first.


                  But you must remember, he said loud and clear: 

Your chosen lifestyle is beautiful and your problem.


I work hard for all I have, and I have neither space,

Nor scraps of food in my house for a lazy man.


So before you settle for idleness, ensure you’ve moved --

Into a town where manners still fall from heaven;


Cause all you’ll get from me will be tough love.


           Uzoma R. Ezekwudo

 Copyright © 2001 Motherland Inc.  All rights reserved.

Image by Miguel Bruna

Money Walks

And Works

In early morning he walks back to work

Down crowded streets, he whistles & passes,

He’s a team leader; his workers never shirk,

They unload trucks daily, reliable and fast;

He hauls tons of goods like a human horse,

And has no time for lunch, for needed rest;

He receives each truck and notes its course --

A daily check his company demands to test

Its drivers.  After these, he gets his daily pay,

Some money in his pocket for his new spouse,

He walks back home at dusk – o happy day! --

Then goes for groceries on feet worn and sore.

On getting home, he barely stays awake to eat,

Already he is dreaming of tomorrow’s streets.


Uzoma R. Ezekwudo


Copyright © 2001 Motherland Inc.  All rights reserved

Image by Gabriele Diwald


Image by Ravi Pinisetti

You are an exceptional person, and 

I met you on a day I will live to remember.

You did not only give me learning and emotional support,

You boosted my morale and learning capabilities;

You gave me the confidence to support them.

If only you knew how scared and confused, I was,                                    

You came, my rescuing angel.


If only you knew how much I had cried inside -- 

I could not hold back the tears anymore, so I let it flew out.

I salute the Computer Laboratory Assistant who called you.

Oh! Lucinda, I have come a long way.  And there I was,

Desperate, lost, and crippled by fear, I was going down the valley.

Blessed are those who cry out, for God answers them.

I’ll forever listen to your sweet voice,

"Dry your eyes and smile; you don’t have any problem.

Some new and foreign students go through what you’re going through."


Blessed is the day I met you, for I’m still smiling.

In that class, ENG 111, I had no idea what the teacher and my peers were doing.

My professor careless, “If you don’t belong to this class, leave,” she said repeatedly.

You made a phone call that switched my class to NG115 for international students.

You sent me to a wonderful lady at the Computer Learning Center, and I became her

Student. She assigned me a login id and password.  She showed me how to use the

Computer, and now, I cannot only do my assignments with the technology and different Software, I can surf the Internet and visit any part of the world comfortably.

And most importantly, your kind words and actions, gave birth to a confident student.

Thank you a million times, and I have carved you in the palm of my hand.


I wrote this poem for Lucinda, as a token of Thank you for helping me to overcome my freshman culture shock.     


Uzoma R. Ezekwudo

Copyright © 2001 Motherland Inc.  All rights reserved


It’s me, the invisible queen of the night,

Singing my notes almost beyond hearing.

You'd love that music if you could listen

Without thinking of my feathery steps across

Your bare skin, followed by my sharp profound

Kiss, which is indeed thrilling and unbearable.

Other entertainers may try to charge you

Hundreds of dollars per concert,

But all I ask for is a sip of your red wine --

Just a few sips to fill my swelling belly.


Uzoma R. Ezekwudo

Copyright © 2001 Motherland Inc.  All rights reserved.



Image by Zoltan Tasi

Why did he have to go, my favorite cousin?

Like a butterfly, he flew off with the August wind.


His young wife's heart fell like a torn-off piece.

Cloth, as he surrendered to the force of the

August wind.


Young and strong like a horse when I saw him last

Now he is lost forever, like dust in the air.


He burned down fast like a candle and as the flames -

Become brightness, the power failed and the light-


Went out and suddenly before his family,

He evaporated like Ethanol.


He's gone, but day-by-day his spirit lives on in us,

Warming our hearts.


His smiles will always bless us like fresh air-

of the Strong September wind.


Matthew, as you soar in the August wind, Adieu.


Copyright © 2001 Motherland Inc.  All rights reserved.


From your snug cot, my breast pocket I unlock  

Your thin arm, admiring your rainbow crown

And trim silver belt separating yellow shirt

From bright purple pants.  When I fit you neatly

Into my hand and tap your head with a firm click

You bend to begin writing, and I lean towards you   

 And together we take off like two lovers. You give 

My fingers.  My brain, my whole body a subtle

Massage.  You crush my flesh, hitting the

Right spots, smoothing, soothing sore

Spots.   You move through

Sheets like a skater sliding

Snow mountains.  You

Release me like a nice

Lover, when I halt

You reluctantly

  And slip your

Slim arm into

My breast





Uzoma R. Ezekwudo

Copyright © 2001 Motherland Inc.  All rights reserved.

Image by Lucas Benjamin


As someone drags her out from her hiding and

triggers her button, a command for her

to start licking the floor, carpets, shelves,

       walls, and seats, ridding them of dust and

       debris.  Crying aloud, the cleaner grips the floor

and begins to move, sucking it as hard as a baby

sucking his mother's nipple.  Suddenly, she

yells even louder like a naughty boy bitten by

a bug.  Then she swallows hard and continues

her chores --Poor lady, she must engulf

all dirt, and pieces of metal she’s allergic to;

she must gulp them down. I can't imagine how awful

it can be: deglutition of debris, whole and pieces.

        She can’t complain, since the tormentor allows her

        to stop swallowing only when she is completely

        done and choked up.

Uzoma R. Ezekwudo

Copyright © 2001 Motherland Inc.  All rights reserved.

Man Vacuuming

  The Delicacy

He Ordered First

Image by Annie Spratt

As he slowed down his car, he turned his head left and

right, then he said, “If only somebody will leave now, if

only I can find a vacant space.” 

He had no choice, but to follow the chains of cars along

the crowded Franklin Street.  He glanced at his watch,

"I’ll be late for class if I don’t hurry up.  I’ll park there;

 it wouldn’t take five minutes to grab some breakfast,"

he soliloquized, and turned right into the only space he

 saw; between the bus stop and the first parking meter

 opposite Mc Donald.  He turned off his engine. He got

 out of his car and walked hurriedly into the Restaurant.

"Sausage, egg, cheese, and medium-size coffee, please."

He paid for his meal and rushed back to his car.  As he

got closer, he noticed his left wiper holding a neatly

wrapped white envelope.  He snatched it from under his

wiper and tore it open.  He turned red and gasped,

“Forty dollars ‘Parking Violations.?”


Uzoma Ezekwudo

Copyright © 2001 Motherland Inc.  All rights reserved.

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