Poem: ​SONG OF A BRUISED WOMAN by John Vincent 

If you see Ajani, my husband, at the gate,
Tell him I have gone to my father’s house,

His manhood no longer entice me anymore.

His mat has seen more of my pains than laughter

And he had failed to roll up his mattress of cruelty;

Marriage is not a do or die affair in my land.

He can come and collect the kolanut he brought,

My father would arrange his yams for him,

Those wrappers he bought for mother she has 

not shown their faces to the bleeding hot sun.

My bracelet has fallen folly in the market place,

I am now the river that has no atom of respect,

Now the grass every leg step on mercilessly;

Every finger pointing at my bruised faces as a sheep.

If you see Ajani Owolabi at the streem,

Tell him that marriage is a game where the

Two parties never give up on each other.

I have be killed severally without a sword,

He who does not know fire let him watch 

A forest blaze behind his hurt. Ajani has 

Broken the vows we made on the altar of love.

The end of our union does not entice me again,

This beads I must not wear again to the market.

Thank my father in- law for his kindness,

My sister in-law’ s paintings had made me insane;

She chameleoned her face between my husband

And I. Home I must go to my father until 

Another man knocks at the door.

Ajani Owolabi, let ego go to rest for  awhile

Women need them no more to butter their lives.

You are more of a dog than a man taking

Orders from your mother and sister lips.

Don’t look for me when your head comes back;

I need a man not a child who won’t stop trying with me.

Jhon Vincent chizoba

      Voice of Vincent 2016


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