Michael Echeruo

Melting Pot by Michael Echeruo

It is dark, now, and grave This bowl of a world That rings me round and round And will not let me marvel enough At th…

The Singers By Michael Echeruo

The Mothers:  For we, too, have fought  the dry north-wind;  Survived the mad fires  of late December. The Daughters:…

Outsider By Michael Echeruo

Between the oyster-beach and the greens...  Sea and barren coast. Between tresses of dark silver and reels of danger...…

Lullaby By Michael Echeruo

i now the sun goes down  into the valley  beyond the palms;  the broods will be returning. soon the last cock will crow…

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