Posted in Poetry

A song to the carnage on our roads


Noel Ihebuzor

Dead vehicles
death trucks, worn,

worn out carriages
running like out of breath

breathless, brakeless bulls
Dead dying traps recycled,
running, trapped on death traps
pitted, pitiless,
groves worn
bald tyres on tired bald roads
crater laden, pot bellied pot holes
weeping uneven surfaces
where contraptions,
whipped, harried and hurried
by death wishing twitching
death defying
handlers bundle
the living to early departures
leaving wails,
twisted wheels, weeping metal
and tangled weals
of sorrow behind


Development and policy analyst with a strong interest in the arts and inclusive social change. Dabbles occasionally into poetry and literary criticism!

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