Top Social Icons

Responsive Full Width Ad

Left Sidebar
Left Sidebar
Featured News
Right Sidebar
Right Sidebar

Friday 4 January 2019



I looked up
And saw the haze of
Yellow sun rising
In the East of
West Africa
Escalating daily
With adorable crown
Of honor and staff of authority
I called it rays of joy
Beacon of hope
To the entire black race.

The rising sun
Rose to heal all
In dark side of the world
Where hardship is celebrated
To be cured of poverty
And frustration
And shown of the abundant fortunes
In the native land
That needs hug
To stop men feed of
Ocean sharks and
 Flesh feed of desert  gods
In a walk to dine in foreign land

The haze of the sun
Is huge and tall
To stop empty pot friendship
With kitchen
And the ritual of daily
Blood flow, ripped wombs
And headless bodies

The sun remarkably
Exhibits signs of
New face of black race
I called it garden of Eden
Where all sing praises
And walk side by side
Without fear of blood flowing
The butterflies play
In the garden Without fear of strikers
The birds perch from tree to tree
Without fear of killers catapult
Heads turn and mouths smile
Without fear of daggers.

Wake up
And look both sides
The beauty smiles to all
The glowing nature of
 It's purity and integrity
The rising sun of
 A new nation
 Once crushed but never died
The music of the past
Yet in vogue
The melodious song
That heals souls
That awaits the trumpet blast
The trumpet of victory
That the heirs of the land
Have returned

Yes, the trumpet
Will soon be blown loudly
Everyone to step out
And walk on
Now that the thick cloud
On it's own volition
Is clearing and outshining
All the evils of the night

Have you seen
The day break?
Have you joined the queue?
To be among
The composers of
The new song
The voices chanting
Freedom! freedom!!
Now that the drum beat sounds high
And feet on serious moves
To dance the dance of choice.

But would an impostor's palace
Be better than freedom of the entire village?
Would a proud thief
Be better than a honest farmer?
Would a rugged slave
Be better than a free country home?

Oh no....!
Soak not your hands in a pot
Filled with blood of non-offenders
Seek for that light
That shines radiantly
Light that frees from oppression
That light is Biafra
Land of the rising sun.


All Hail Biafra!

Written by Onyebuchi Eucharia O.
For Family Writers Press.

No comments

Post a Comment

Responsive Full Width Ad

Copyright © 2020 The Biafra Herald