WAITING FOR THE DAY OF MY DEATH

BACKGROUND OF THE POEM: Recently things seem to be going from bad to worst in Nigeria, one of the largest country in West Africa. Most of her citizens attribute the hardship they are facing to the supposed insensitivity of the APC led government which ousted (from power) the ruling party, PDP, in the 2015 Presidential election.

As at the time of this post, Nigeria’s unpalatable situation is characterized by long queues in Filling Stations, astronomical hike in the price of goods and services, insecurity, among other things. Apart from Boko Haram insurgence, Fulani herdsmen killed/kills and maim villagers in some communities where they graze.

With all these happenings, the author of the poem, who is a Nigerian decided to vent his frustration by writing this piece. We hope you enjoy.

Your comments and contributions will be appreciated, particularly if you’re a Nigerian

Waiting For The Day Of My Death

Man born of a woman so much pain to endure
Worst of them all
Is being delivered on this part of the globe IPOB calls Zoo
A place where masochism seem a lifestyle
With leadership that fail every now and then
Even after alphabetical reformation
The hardship that bedevil us
Hastens the day of our death

So calm were we with the hardship they gave us

That now destitution has fallen in love with us.


The falcon and her falconer are far apart
Fighting a shameful war
Fear grip even the sand under our feet
As we fret, and frantically we struggle
Fearfully waiting the hour of our death
Counting down like a stop watch

As she rushes with reckless abandon
Amidst the clamour for division
from the east and the south

I hear the thunderous echo of succession.


I weep for generation after us
For after the embezzlement that’s going on

The bamboozled mode of fighting corruption

Who shall be held accountable?

Who will take responsibility?

Who will fight that at least a coin

Would be preserved for the children after us?

Where is the God of Justice?
Has he gone numb in the face of our crisis?
That we are left staring at our death!


Tell it in the streets of Abuja
Go announce it on NTA
Let Channels hear and forewarn them
Tell the men at the other side
Including the women in the other room

That I am angry
Tell them I’m no longer afraid of the day of my death
For I have attended too many burials

And seen too many dead bodies
That death scares me no more.


I weep for Nigeria today

With no plans for the yet unborn

Even the living is widely torn

In hunger he is left in thorns

With no economic plan in display

Like actors in a horror play

The hungry is left to and decay

Even the undertaker had no strength to dig

Only scavenging politicians

Who lead us to a death of shame!

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