Our nation has been a stage for series of political and economical mishaps in recent years. This has been a source of great concern as these events have been stamping negative effects on the masses; especially the musers. These events hence never skipped the attention of an ever concious and skilled writer with exemplanary muse, named chisom madu kingdavid. To this he penned down a poem titled My voice, an imagery packed piece of vivid out pour from his poetic mind. This poem won Eriata Oribhabor Poetry Prize 2013 Below is the poem, I hope you'll love it.

«My voice»

My voice is the libations
Of our penury 's liberation
Poured in the heart of Aso Rock
Which do not appease the
Tenanted gods of the house.

My voice is the peeling souls
Of pregnant babies sucking
Their skeletal fingers instead
Of their mothers' withered breasts.

My voice is the muffled moan
Of the dying bones
Inhaling the perfumed fart
Of abandoned promises
Instead of the breath of fresh air.

My voice is the school children
Nursing the heartbreak of strike
In their indefinite honeymoon
Whose ceaseless clarion calls
Are buried in the grave of silence.

My voice is the scarlet scenes
Of Boko Haram 's massacres;
The dice of tears teeming from the
Eyes of men who witnessed Baga's carnage.

My voice is the Giant of Africa
Dodging the fogs of her cabals
Wading through the claws of sunset
Trapped in the womb of insurgency

This voice is a widower
Whose dear wife is Nigeria .

Sponsored by:
Sir Eriata Oribabhor, ANA Abuja
Chairman
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