Emmanuel Chimezie
If poetry was a person,
I’d pay her bride price—without
respite.
I’d smile when she frowns,
go a long mile.
I’d hide in her arms—
oh, soothing arms!
If poetry was a person,
I’d fight tooth and nail—
without reason.
I’d write a new book,
turn it into a nook.
I’d fly on her wings,
make her sing.
I’d play the piano—
to a great tempo.
If poetry was a person,
I’d preach it, loud it,
embrace it to the moon.
I’d turn her statue
into a plateau.
I’d praise her, succour her,
till I become like her—
oh, love!
I’d go to the altar,
never to be altered.
©Emmanuel Chimezie
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