Read Poem by Emeka Ihejiawu

“Tell me, was the prophet talking about himself or someone else?”

A large fiery white ball swiftly descended from the skies, approaching my window. Surprise kept me stuck to where I was. I saw what was coming but there was nothing I could do to escape. The closer it got, the brighter it became.

It smashed through my window and blasted against my face. Buum!

It scattered into a billion stars. They filled my room. And from their midst came a dozen of pretty angels.

They helped make my bed and scented the entire place. One of them left me a glass of water.

My lover called me just then. “That’s my gift for the night. Sleep tight.”

Author: poetryfest

Submit your Poetry to the Festival. Three Options: 1) To post. 2) To have performed by an actor 3) To be made into a film.

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