Page 61 - June 2021 Litterateur
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Ngozi Olivia Osuoha is a Nigerian poet/writer/thinker/author.
                                                              She's  a  graduate  of  Estate  Management  with  experience  in
                                                              Banking  and  Broadcasting.  She  has  featured  in  over  sixty
                                                              international anthologies and has equally published over two
                                                              hundred and sixty poems in over twenty five countries. She
                                                              has authored twenty three poetry books and some of them
                                                              are archived in the United States' Library of Congress. She is
                                                              also  a  tailor.  Some  of  her  poems  have  been  nominated  for
                                                              both  the  Best  of  the  Net  Awards  and  Pushcart  Prize.  Her
                                                              works have also been translated into and published in some

                                                              languages,  including  Spanish,  Arabic,  Farsi,  Macedonian,
                                                              Russian, Romanian, Khloe, Polish, among others.


                                           Ngozi Olivia Osuoha









                      WHEN GREEN IS RED                                                  CATASTROPHE



                     Green is life, it is fertile                                 They are all catalysts
                     Green is growth, it is development                           Showing on catalogs,
                     Green is pure, it is sanity                                  They are all caterpillars
                     Green is great, it is sanctity                               Destroying our pillars,
                     But green has turned red, here.                              Catalogs of catastrophes
                                                                                  Catastrophic catalogs
                     Green is alive, it lives forever                             Carting away our corridors
                     Green is afloat, it stays evergreen                          Escalating pungent odors
                     But in my land, green is red.                                Agents of accidents in porous aura,
                                                                                  Bunch of cankerworms
                     Blood is flowing, nooks and crannies                         A lunch of cancers

                     Blood is the Latin, praying in our mountain,                 Ticking time to bomb
                     And it is now the fountain we drink.                         And digging clime as tomb,
                                                                                  Canticles of ill fate
                                                                                  And litanies of wrong faith;
                                                                                  They all are aloof and lost
                                                                                  Running helter skelter
                                                                                  Looking for a shield,
                                                                                  But destruction looms around them.




























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