Bad Habit

I hate to do But I'm stuck to. Drunk to stupor Am I that poor That I can't let go? I should have said no, And all at one go Then the out burst "yes" What a mess. Life with a blow... I'm letting it out With a loud shout. Stupid wearing bizarre coat Left so long to float Until it's my fear and doubt... It's a bad habit

ANAEMIA

Twenty-four strokes of the cane
Round about his twenty-four years
Nature mixed it all with pain.

I wonder the many hours of tears
Drawn from his very eyes
And of those he held so dear.

Diagnosis of the prudent and wise
Revealed of red cells gone wild
They lost shape, form and how to be wise.

Other tissues broke from gentle and mild
When they lacked the air to breathe
Suffocating into infarction, they died.

The gnashing the teeth
Pains at the extremities, excruciating
Breaking down human fabric from underneath.

Friends and families rallied round sympathizing
One after the other being selfless donors
To replenish his life, free him from dying.

Countless transfusions kept shot the door
His humor and wits
Gave him space amongst the rich and poor.

People to smile and cheer with
Can never be there for all times
So in time, he made all the stitch and knit.

We met at the crossroad for times
My heart beat so fast
Eager to enlist in a saviour’s line.

Fame and fortune don’t last
But good will and charity stick around
Stretched between the future and the past.

I bet with charity to account
Stake my fingers and mind for the art
An altruistic offer for no pound.

Venipuncture, arrow and dart
Obscured veins, deep seated or bereft of blood flow
Yes, anaemia’s filthy hands the fact.

Fourteen is very low
Other parameters point the same way
Even biochemistry shrugs at “no”.

Cross match says donor’s free to pay
To have crisis arrested a little
But with twenty four strokes, life was giving away.

Unwilling to bear further piercings and needles
To have the blood of others flowing in his veins
Or have himself pictured as that feeble.

To him, it’s relief from life so empty and vain
To all that will miss him
Chike’s bow is but of endless pain.

Far Away

It is so hard to imagine
You are gone away.
Far away land you say
For distance and time line
Still know that we did wine.

So much we had to share
Love was the most
That we gave at all cost
Nourishing our pair
With all treasures so rare.

Then came the winter wind
It didn't freeze but did burn
Like fires from a sun
When it had you lose your mind
And sweet memories so hard to find.

I look out my window
Time after time again.
In the sunshine, in the rain
Waiting your sign, your rainbow
To heal and drain my sorrow.