By the Window side on the Harmattan

Once by the window side
One can see the greenfields
The tulips and the sweet smelling Rose
And the little spider crawling about in her net
The golden sun shines forth
Bringing her warmth through the window
And the birds twitter on the tree
Which live near the windowside
Sometimes squirrels come bounding in
Throwing their pack of nuts into the room

But when the dusts of Harmattan came
And the tree leaves turn brown
And the grasses grow not again
No one looked through the window…
For it all became dark and filled with soot


God is Reading

Now write of the falling leaves
From tree tops and heights
As they fall in solemn circles
And as the wind rock them about

Write about the mountains and hills
About the hollow sound made
When the birds hover over them
Painting silhouettes upon the ground

Write about the trees
And their sweet awesomeness
The pleasure and fruits they bear
The warmth they provide for men

Write about Natures innocence
Of the blue skies and light rain
Of the horse and her shyness
And the love that comes from above

Write about golden fields of wheat
In the summer time and of winter
And heal the world with the pen
For God is always reading


Musing: Longing for thee

My soul longs for thee, dear motherland
To run the dusty red muds
And to swim in the rivers all over you
To climb the trees of your forests
And wallow on the shallow streams
My soul longs to nibble the tender pumpkin seeds
Freshly cut from the farms
To dance with warriors, home with wild beasts
Painted with fearful, scary colors of chalk
My soul longs to belong to this hunting party
Scouting the green forest, sniffing the hare
My soul longs to sit with the elders of the clan
And to hear the wisdom that comes from them
And to eat the round, reddish bitter kolanut
My soul longs to hear tales from my aunts and granny
From the hamlets tale teller and visiting messengers
My soul longs to see the appearance of the full moon
And as she light the town center with her brightness

My soul longs for the long quiet sunny day
In a very quiet hamlet, save from bird calls
And the swooshing of tall trees in the morning wind
With the Harmattan blowing away all my troubles
My soul longs to hear the winds speak
To make rain fall, and drive the cattle away
To calm a horse, and feed the chicken

My soul longs to see the wild
To ride through the field of Baobabs
And to drink the juice brewed by locals
To travel on a safari to East Africa
And dine with the Masai, to fright the Lions

Learn Igbo language and culture here.

My soul seeks to love you, my beautiful one
To pick ripe tomatoes from the fields with you
And to hide in fields of corn or wheat
In the morning of a quiet summer time
To dance with you, in the quiet evening
To teach you all what poetry can be
And also to learn about the ants together

My soul longs to hold you tightly, little ones
To see beautiful smiles on your face always
To love you always my motherland
And to reverence His majesty, Jehovah, my God