Wolf Mother

you are stronger
than you know
the power behind
a well-worn broken
heart, you are
remarkable, glutinous, whole

I admire you
you’ve given half
of yourself to
two different people
and they’re growing into their own
beings

Mother wolf, deviser
of solid plans
meshed in mathematical
data, intellectual spirit

your eyes hold
timeless love and
I stand on sure footing
bound to hear the
re-emergence of sound
from each blink


This poem is for my friend Alexainie whom we call “Zainey”, written on Valentine’s Day. It is my gift to her for being in my life and loving me as she does.

sound off

Photo by Noah Buscher via Unsplash

An Audio Poem for Ezinne Ukoha

they don’t expect you to
sound off . . .
your version of one . . . two
three . . . four
isn’t what they thought
counting would be.
you shout from the rooftops
of every dilapidated building,
saying what the world
wants all of us to deny.

“no justice. no peace.”
you do not rest in the throes
of ignorance, you carry a lightning bolt
solid enough to pierce through
the toughest skin
and light’em up.
from your lips come
the fruits of our labor —
an homage to an undying fight.

strength is you.
on a screen amongst millions, you
let your words fly,
uncertain if they can still
reach someone.

they do.
they can.
they will.
I am a follower,
a faithful reader too.

you are touching me.

if you ever feel like the
world is sitting on your shoulders
happy to be around weighing you down,
know that you’ve lifted hundreds up
and we would stand
at attention if it meant your words
could conjure up the next
uprising.

the love you have for
your people — for those oppressed
and shot down, unfortunate
and dismayed jumps out
of every offering
you have to give and we
could pay our tithes with
the amount of truth you
share and still have plenty
left over to help others.

you are the navy by yourself.

and many hate to see your
fleets coming, but you
attack at will.
you’re ready.
you aim.
and, you fire
hitting the target
every single time.

if passion had a partner,
it’d be you.
you are scaling bumpy
terrain yet you manage
to keep your breaths steady.
I pity the trolls.
they don’t have a chance —
you sass them educationally
with just the right amount
of hot sauce and butter . . .

you burn’em up.

the moment you refuse
to sound off is the moment
the world will miss
one of its gifts who
has been trying to save it
for decades.

rise up, Ezinne,
don’t ever let them
catch you falling.


*Author’s Note: I have been reading Ezinne for at least four years now and with each read, I can still feel the presence of her undying will to use her words to express/fight for/and push towards justice. Originally published in P.S. I Love You via Medium.

November 21, 2016, my first poem for Ezinne:

The Flip-side

Depressing “Lazy Limericks”


There once was a pretty girl named Sue 
Who had an odd penchant for glue
She loved to create art
And was known to be smart
But got her fingers caught in a flue

My crazy next-door neighbor Ted
An army, he says he could’ve led
Shot himself one cool night
Left his wife without fight
Detectives found her bound in bed

Justin had a sick crush on Sarah
Said that she’s much better than Farah 
Caught as a peeping Tom
By her sly, nosy Mom
He’s doing time near Lake O’Hara


Author’s Note: Matt Querzoli via Medium shares his “Lazy Limericks” with us from time to time. I admire them. This is my attempt at three lazy, yet depressing limericks. One day, I’ll be able to tackle the meter appropriately, not doing so here, is what makes it “lazy” for me.