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The Pot Turned


A whirlwind gathered at brother’s house

Crept in like a sweeping breeze

And turned and blew silently

Till its momentum built a

Wrecking wind



A John shouted in the wilderness

Of dear brother’s house

Of coming misfortune and mourn

Burning pyre and scattered folks of brother’s house.



Our ears were not in service

To the cries from the wilderness

We cast lots and threw blames

And merried far-off brother’s house


While we slept, flames peeped to our rooms

Fire was licking brother’s house

Its smoke made us choke, throttled and made us gag,

Filled our eyes – we did cry, and fell back to slumber

Muttering our condolences from the window

And let brother put out his fire.



While we slept, we heard a kiss on our roof

A hiss, our hut is aflame!

Buckets of water marched

We felt brother’s pains and saw no rat to chase


Thus, the brewing pot turned and its content spilled

We sat with cries and sighs

And wept at our debris’s sight

And we cried.

Written by Nonso Serah Uchechukwu

About shakespeareanwalter

Walt Shakes(@Walt_Shakes) is an award-winning Nigerian writer, poet and veteran blogger. He is a lover of the written word. the faint whiff of nature, the flashing vista of movies, the warmth of companionship and the happy sound of laughter.

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One comment

  1. And round and round it goes. Some picture, Serah.

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