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FOUR LITRES OF DEATH by Franklyn Orode

1/5/2020

5 Comments

 
Picture
Four Litres of Death

Listen, child, let me sing you a dirge
Let me tell you how death was measured in litres
Don't try to wipe the pain navigating my eyes
Chase the birds from my window, I don't need their songs
How many litres did they bring? Maybe four or even more
Right in their grandfather's compound, behind a high school wall
In the glaring eyes of the sun, they strap darkness on their backs
And massaged demons on behalf of kids who cry of toothache
Come on, bring me writhe for the four holy schoolboys
Who left their mother's arms and returned home only with ashes
 
Listen, child, let me sing you a dirge
Let me tell you how death was measured in litres
Of motor spirit poured out as libations to angry gods
As travelling oxides carried cries in their clenched fists
And flung them sweatily in four directions, heavenwards
A clear crystal tears leaked from a corner in God's eyes
It drops into my plastic heart, and my tears became a lagoon
Sit here child and cry with me as I sing my dirge
Come on, bring me writhe for the four holy schoolboys
Who left their mother's arms and returned home only with ashes
 
Come on child, sing along with me on this dirge
As I have told you how death was measured in litres
Let's not pretend that the clouds have got no eyes
They caught dizziness from the parting flames
Let's not pretend that the winds have got bad breath
They spread the rotten news far away from that land
Let's not pretend that the trees lack sympathy too
When the monoxides still choke their guilty conscience
Let's not pretend that the earth have felt no pain
It is her aching womb that carried the quadruplets
Franklyn Orode is a professional Civil engineer, a creative writer and poet. His poems have appeared in notable online platforms such as eboquills, poemhunter, voicesnet and poetry cooperative. He was a contributor to the collaboratively written poetry anthology " Petals of Wisdom" edited by Eriata Orhibabor. Franklyn writes from Lagos, Nigeria.
5 Comments
Godwin Gbenebichie
3/5/2020 12:03:03 pm

Succinct reminder of the mindless killing of the innocent ALUU 4 by a poet extraordinaire.
The pain of their brutal and savage murder still lingers on.
This well crafted and scripted poem ensures their memory is not eroded from history .
I like the chronology of the poem as well as its eerieness,gloom,and empathy to the mothers of the victim.

Reply
Franklyn Orode
3/5/2020 12:17:37 pm

Thanks Godwin Gbenebichie for your soaring mind and attention to details.

Reply
Emeka Chibuikem V.
19/5/2020 10:48:57 am

He does not just make things seem bad, he makes it worse;
He is always the necessity that leaves every choice a curse;
There may be but haven’t seen anyone, who wants him around;
In a twinkle of an eye, he can make a noisy hall absence of sound;
For every suicide; seconds to go, anybody on suicide will wish to be alive;
Death; the unwanted inconsiderate visitor that never leaves his hosts alive.
Yet, man wickedly sends another man early, to be late.
The killers failed to consult the mothers, 9 months aren't 9 hours.
In less than 9 hours, four different 9 months was laid waste.
The poet brings fresh to memory, the unjust savagery of the Aluu community in Nigeria.

Reply
Franklyn Orode
19/5/2020 12:42:07 pm

Thanks so much Mr Emeka for your poetic insight

Reply
Timi Sanni
25/5/2020 05:07:02 pm

The poet has done a great work in engraving this senseless killing of the four ALUU victims on our minds.

Reply



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