The Violins of the Nights

Now let’s have some evening breeze
And with it let a tale about it be told
Always the night is cold but noisy
Creatures of the dark and creepy places
Move about, bothering the peace of men
The sounds of the night is strange
But to some, it is a great acquaintance
A reunion of two different worlds
One, the quiet and the other, the unquiet

The Night plays several lullabic songs
She is skilled with the strings of music
The sides of her mouth sings gaiely
She wakes the black and brown crickets
Letting the streams of queer music flow
Unified beats and rhythms of the night
With the spectators watching, the stars
And their grey solitary cousin. the moon
Watching the procession of quiet hymns

Nature stay smiling upon her providence
The drama that unfolds when man watch her
Mother Nature plays the strings of my heart
She sings in a sweet alto voice, confusing me
And with her fine soothing breezy touch
She plays her fingers upon my hairy arms
Like the soft caressing skin of a snakes velvet
She lays by my side to whisper her tunes
Cupping her hands into my long ears


Muse: Nature Inspired

Life is all about finding what gives you happiness
Fortunate for me, I found these in Natures embrace
I love to live my life with what gives me abundant joy.
Seeing live animals around and green plants upon the soil
Watching the golden sun rise above the grey hills
And the joyful memories that come to my soul still
Gives me a Divine experience, unexplainable even to me
Encounters with all that God has brought on Earth, for me to see


Brothers with Fonuoha and Ciroegbu

Laughter is a sweet wine
She goes into the eyes
Burning the desires of men
Family is a nice paradise

Friendship is like a flying Eagle
Flying above quiet blue waters
In love there is no need for struggle
Nothing like a sister or brother

Sometimes things and people change
But nothing changes a familys’ love
From plain vales to mountain ranges
There is no pat, finer than a loved ones hug

In this heart of mine, in my minds eyes
Lives a long weary tale and poetic tapes
Ups and downs, laughs and sighs
But the smile on your faces give me hope

I love you all; family, friends and readers
Yours’ penly
Iroegbu Oke’


A Muse: The Locust and the Ant

Now the Locust played about
The comely sunny Summer, he minded not

The Ant gathers leaves, grains and nuts
For the clouds slowly but steadily go South

The Snow Queen and all hue turn bright,
All the land then become immaculately white

No more grain, no more fun, no tall and sweet green grass to hide in
But the stores of the Ant stay, for he the signs of Winter had seen


Wait for the Morning

Wait for the morning
It comes a little while
The night was long and creepy
But the morning must surely come

Wait for the rising sun
Hear the birds twitter
Upon the trees that stay around
Let Heavens airs touch you

Throw the curtains open
Watch the sun rays fall
On the waters of the river
Feel the wonders of Nature

Let the golden sun filter in
Through the open windows
Be thankful, for the life you have
For nothing is greater than this!

Arise and shine, for it it morning!
Show some care, watch the tree leaves fall
And when it gets dark and evening again
Let the memories of the morning stay still


Musing: To a Future…

“Open the windows of your heart
See the wonders outside; besides you”

I like to write this for you, dear
For memoirs of what we share
And as the last days drew near
A moment of truth, I can swear

I care for all which come to me
The butterflies which fine colors I see
And the Sparrows which fly to the Sea
And in all; to me, I will always be me

“The clouds are blue up the Heavens
A fine prize for those who care to love”

Within, without but my love is for charity
I will never claim any right or authority
I get all muddled at times, love is also piety
For it does not come from looks or prosperity

I always have very little to say
I have found it, now I know the way
Strong winds flush about, on me it plays
Scoffing at my face when I try to look away

“Say always words of encour,
Save the young hydras’ neck”

I keep trying to reach and talk to you
Each time you seem to be busy Iroegbu
And then you told me you will be good
I went my way, so I hope you would

Not for me, nay, no, not anymore
I dislike inconsistency, it’s an eyesore
But faith, believe, trust and care all allures
Talk to me, but do not hasten to my door

“Do not fall prey to the Bear
For her manner of dinner is queer”

I felt your heart beat happily when we hugged
We complained for it lasted only for a few seconds
A memoir, desire and longing that in my quiet self, long ago lived
But to my books and future, to You Jehovahs word; I lovely wed

But then I will always be myself in the end
And to these bright future, flowers I shall send
For I have seen it all, I have seen the Lions den
And I shall say goodbye, just by the rivers bend

I muse from this quietness in my soul and the comfort of my dear bed…


Musing; Februarys’ Heat

Now we don’t have to go outside for the sun to burn us
For in the house there is sufferable heat come from nowhere
The mosquitoes know of these plight so they stay away
The deep nights are hotter, our beds are moved to the corridors
The fans blow hot stuff into the atmosphere, one wonders in confusion

But I must find it, I must find some comfort
But where, somewhere calm, cosy and soft
Alas, it can only be so out there in the corridor
Where the Night is confused, the Wind has not come yet
She must have gone to see the Morning, for she is a flirt
Well, I don’t care an atom theory about the Wind or her whereabouts
I can only say the state of affairs, and at present it is very hot


A lullaby: The Shepherd

Frankly, the bed is the best thing ever
To happen to a shepherd or a farmer
For it had been a long and hectic day
Though he had little naps along the way
The wailings of the young ram and goats
Disturbs his sleep; he swerves, he waits
He leans forward, allowing his ear to pick up strange noises
For a stray fox, allowing the tip-off to come with the breezes
And when the roosters call out to him
It comes like a blessed sunday hymn
A rendition, a call he has grown up with
And now he can decipher all with his wit

When morning came and the sun arose
He also rises, even as the early cold wind blow
Reaching for a nice and warm silk cloth;
Off he goes, marching away from his tent
Towards the farmstead, which he loved
And muttering to himself, he solemnly prayed
Wishing the flock well, and hoping for a better day ahead
Greeting the flock, he wanders in steps calm but bold

And each time, his joyful smiles know no bounds at the sight of his fine flock
Grazing at the lower vales, with a pond before him and a family of waddling ducks


A Travellers Myth

“I shall stand at the cliffs edge
I shall look out for a better home for us
We shall run from the very familiar
We shall find a new start
And when the Eagles return to nest
I would hurriedly rush home to you
We shall pack up, all our belongings
To embark on the final leg of a journey
…To the West, to the setting sun…”

The road is thorny and mountainous
The land full of poisonous adders and toads
Inedible mushrooms, distracts the traveller
But wasn’t it said here lies a depth of gold?
The wolves howl behind the weary men
Winter is cruel to those who seek refuge
In her treacherous arms and embrace
But the moon shine and men count their luck
And when the sun rises, another hope is unleashed

The trail is fresh with different paw prints
But we must go, to find a new land
To find Scotland, Vancouver or Newfoundland?


Musing: The Light, Paper, Curtains and My Head

(i) Light
Nothing feels better sitting in a quiet room
And all you desire is but the sweet loneliness
Laying in the dark room were the light is faint
Musing over your ups and downs on a paper

(ii) Paper
Strange how my room is littered with papers
Torn, painted, carved, squeezed, here and there
Though it’s a little creepy with much paper here
I still see some light rays come from the curtains

(iii) Curtains
The strong wild wind flirts with it
Throwing kisses at her blushing face
Without asking she flings up and down
To strange tunes, as she hover over my head

(iv) My Head
I have seen you in the mirror, aye I have
Ruddy, light cat-eyed with two fine Elfy ears
A red lip, a big nose and what a head, you are!
But I wait still, for the day I meet you dear self


Natures Music

“I hear the strong sound of drums
Come from lands far, far away
Music living up the hills and slums
Down to the seaside by the bay”

The call of the birds flying home
As Darkness unfolds her cloak on the Earth
The choir of frogs across the little pond
Singing and croaking out their hearts
The sweet wind that blows hard
When the clouds thunder and rain
Victoria Lake and her lively waterfalls
With Natures own strings and bows
The wailing of Mangabeys and Partridges
In the African wilderness of the Veldt
Sahara in the sun and her sand storms
The laugh of the Hyena and drunk men
And the whistling of the Pine trees
On romantic and strongly airy nights

Mother Nature plays her strange music
And she plays for those who care to listen


A Poem sometime ago

Once upon a midnight dreary
As I pondered weak and weary
The night was grim and all was damp
Swarms of flyfull insect surround my lamp
And out there the trees stood like Halloween ghosts
Waiting to take a stab, standing lightly on the dusts
The clouds shine, Zeus was trying out his new lamp
His match sticks light the heavens, lands and the
The grey bearded unsmiling
Moon shone gleefully
My big head watching it, tired and weary
My head stuck back into the window hole
And at first it fell on a big bowl
A friend lay snoring up the bed
And to me, the cool ground I laid
Strange lonely sounds of the dark
Rent the air, on my mind it left its mark
This night cold, quiet and galely uncaring for its looks
And all I had as a pillow was those books
I thought wild, letting my mind wander
Minding not the quick wind and her asunder
But if I was asked to let be
This night, what the gifts God gave me
The disturbing slow-speed lamplight moth
Or the cold winds this strange Night brought?


The Dreamers tale

Now to bed we all must retire
But before this, let’s do a satire
For my bed which I so admire
I’m wrapped in my pyjamas, a funny attire

After the days hectic work
On the bed, a pen and book
I struggle quickly to find and pick;
A poem, it must even when I’m weak

I write about the day and noon
About the pipers and their nice tunes
I write about the grey fine moon
I sit to look at it but my eyes sink soon

The airs come, a merry night
But for the noisy hidden Crickets!
Mocking me from their dark forts
Disturbing my quietness and thoughts!

My candlelights dance excitedly
My green ball pen waltz joyfully
On paper they paint a picture to see
“To be or not to be”

Now the day is clearly over
And all has gone to their slumber
I’m so weak, I’m not a heavy sleeper
For after the struggles I do wonder

I shall retire to my bed lonely
Do not wake me up for some poetry
For in my dream, I see ecstacy
In the morning I shall tell you about me


A duel inside

Most duels are fought without,
Some, more important, in us,
What kills is that element of doubt…
Let us unravel the journey first!
I wait, hoping for a smile from you Its not that hard, if you give it a try,
I know you have battled pain,
I know your dreams were always high!
Let me play the clown a while,
Let me journey on and try,
Wipe away your tears and see, Its just not worthwhile to cry!
I cry too…often hidden from sight
We are all here, in this plight!

Written by a good friend Arunav Barua…


Power of Love

“1 John 4:18 ESV
There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out
fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and
whoever fears has not been perfected in love.”

Now I recall what it all means to me…
Love is the croaky sound of the cricket beneath my bed
Love is the little chicken that thought I was their mother
Love is the dark blue skies that rains when I cry out
Love is those happy faces I see after a long time in Christmas
Love is standing in the midst of a tree herd as their leaves fall
Love is the strange dogs that come to play when all is quiet
Love is playing in the fields with little curious insects
Love is calming a tearful kid that you havent met before
Love listens to the sweet music from winds come from other lands
Love is the ability to summon the wind and the rain with the mind
Love is keeping memories of dear ones lost along the way
Love makes Mother Nature work for you

Care for all, while you can
Dance and live while you can
Love abundantly while you can
For Love tastes like the spring water
Love is Divine and only comes from God


Just after I wake

I wake to the light shining on my weary face
To Heavens airs and my Gods unfailing grace
Before now, the window was half open
Dark it was then, but for the waking sun

My fancy, my imaginations knew no bound
For even in my reverie, my wits stay around
Crickets which stay in hidden cracks call out
And I couldnt help when a yawn left my mouth

Sweet morning just came by
The airs also with a sigh
Upon my bed, I toss and turn
And in my head an idea is born

I see a dead flower
In a vase, formerly for butter
How battered it looked, oh poor thing!
But to another thought, I let myself swing

Siblings and memories come to say hello
In my confusion, I have lived long time ago
I smile, I reply and I smile again
Asking “Breakfast is on the way, but when?”

Now as I raise this China cup to my lips
Taking a humbled long and quiet sip
And as the taste of warm milk come to me
I feel Gods goodness and how lively I can be


My Musing: February 11

Aha, my mind seems to laugh at me…
But I cared so little for what it thinks
I say to it, “there are more to life than you see”
And for the world I say, “follow the sun as it sinks”
For a shepherd, I am a stranger and sojourner
…Travelling to a land far, far away
To places I would see people and wonders
To lands where the sun shines in the day
And the eyes that see it, shall know its worth
For the latter glory shall come forth

It is about time I danced with the Masai
And hold their hands to feel their muscles
Taking their foot paths and frighting the lions
And other wild cattle in the wilderness
I will race the ancients hills soon
And my trophy shall be a smile
And a hug from a loved one

It is about time I see the blue skies of other nations
The warm smiles of people who love Gods providence
To dance to the tune of the Scottish pipes
And sit upon a cliff overlooking the wild blue sea
I will write about life, God willing always
And again my desired trophy
Shall be a smile and hug from a loved one

Never shall I forfeit a beautiful dream
Never again shall the worlds deception
Come to me like Potiphars wife and Joseph
But in my desires Lord I seek you only
Groom my heart, groom also my mind
That sometimes stray from its enclaves


The last night dance

The nights are quiet and calm
The smell of the rose picked in the morning
Comes mildly as the serene air filter in
Curtains dance like the naked light of the candle
Like you, my dear as the night you danced
Raising your hands to your beautiful black hair
Looking through the raised arms to see my smile
Chuckling and blushing, shy but boldly swerving about
You danced like a tall and fine Arabian princess

Sweet rendition of the radio and the wind upon the window
Plays a fancy, through the window to the hills down below
The woods burn and sigh quietly in the fire
But upon the dancing image I sit and admire
The smiles upon your face tells of the sun shine
As she wakes on the horizon and cloud lines

Nice airs still come to us, to our tranquil get together
Nothing compares to this Heavenly love we share for one another
It sinks slowly, but admiringly
Our candles, melt like cheese
And in those shadows a tale is told
Of the tall Giraffe, fine and bold
And how this fine Giraffe
Ate the sickly moon half

Now come sit upon my thighs
Let me see your pretty eyes
Let me sooth the toils of the day
And the pains all come to you away
And when your hairs I hold in my palms
Let it be the next song and psalms
To God, our Sovereign and tryst maker,
Our all who had made our lives easier

And when we both wake in the finest morning
Our words will be softer and faces full of smiling


When the wind stops

The tent-peg shake angrily in the wind
On the sandy soil it looses its strength
while the clouds are dark with the storm
The mighty wind takes her toil upon the hamlet
Dried leaves and sticks fly in circles
Dancing to the tune of the angry wind

The roofs upon the towns houses
Creak and seek to take flight
The tree lines are aroused to a war
Branches swerve in wild friction
Causing panic and fear on the neighborhood
Pines are heard playing their flute loudly
As if it was their last to come

The winds asunder stops
Calmness comes to all
And the clouds are clearer
Allowing all to find their way home


Haiku: Farewell

Memories and tales will be told
Hopes and dreams, in shield
And all will pass into legend
If our paths ever pass again


The Tale of a Shepherd

When it is time to leave the hamlet
To leave the vales and the thornful paths
To seek fresh and sweet grasses
For the little bleating lamb and sheep
The shepherd wakes from his slumber

The roads are rocky and mountainous
Filled with stubborn stones and quarry
The mistletoe grow on the roadside
But the herd march on, happily to other places
Minding the bushes and hare traps

The morning is mild, the sun not awake yet
The clouds heavy with dew and mists
And when the herd sees the gliitering stream
They rush forward for a splash and cold drink
Gulping and disturbing the little fishes

The shepherd bends to wash his sooty face
A young lamb rushes to him, nudging him lightly
Then he stretches his palm, touching her face
Running his hands up and down her neck
And in that delight, she bleats excitedly

The noon comes with the suns heat
The trees provide shed for the shepherd and his herd
He sits on a rock to watch the amazing sight before him;
Lovely lamb and fine sheep grazing humbly
On a vast green valley, full of life

He looks up to the tree branches
As beautiful plummages sing joyfully
And the humming bees that stay on the tree
Smiles draw across his handsome ruddy face
For this lovely sight he sees each day

Even so, the airs become milder as the sun set
The herd walk up to him as he whistle to them
In a few minutes, he has called all to himself
And towards the hamlet behind the hills, they went
Happy again to splash through the waters of the stream

In the evening when the sun is finally set
The happy shepherd returns home to his fluffy bed
For a quick modest dinner of warm milk and bread
And on his bed he turns and tosses to find some rest
Counting the sheep in his mind, and smiling in his sleep


A Tale of the Wildwoods 3: Summer arrives

And when the beautiful summer happened to come…
Upon the glades and vales of the wildwoods
The Mountain stood quietly by the forest side
Sniffing the sweet smell come from fresh growing flower shrubs
The happy birds come flying back home
Followed by all pretty insects and the boar herd
The skies are tinted with blue skirmish
Sometimes it seemed it will rain, but it wouldnt
The tomatoes ripen fast and blush deeply
Whenever the black beetles walk up to her for a little chat
The sun shine brightly, amused at all reunions
The fine community knew many, many happy times
This was one of those beautiful moments, exhilarating
Antelopes walk majestically beneath the tree branches
And squirrels hide behind the branches, watching
“Awww, do you see that?” the pink footed Doves quiz themselves
For in a sudden, a young seed came sprouting from the last snow dot
How joyful it was, the Mountain wore a dark gown
Wondering who dared to admire her triangular shape
For her lover, the cold Ice-King had travelled far, far away to another land
Carrying with himself; all stray winds, both little and mighty
To find another lover, but she believed not that
For she heard it as a rumor from the busybody grey Wolf
The Pines look quite taller, for the snow has left their frost-bitten roots
And when they look down, they feel good about themselves
“Oh, how awlfully painful the frost bite was on our foot”
The crickets wonder, leaping from a grass leaf to another
Allowing the wet airs to sift through their fine long body muscles
“The dead Earth is alive!” They yell in utmost joy and unison
“Look at the Mountain, must she dress scantily
Now the Ice-King has no use for her iniquities?”
A confused Wolf said, hiding his face from the suns light
“And what beauty she has brought forth”, a confused Linnet replied
“The flowers blossom in magnificient desires
The tree leaves are greener, and the airs milder
But are all these, the only wealth of the summer?”
The philosophical Woodpecker asked as he shook his head
For to him, the soul of living and happiness
Comes not in the summer nor the winter

This is the third in the series of Wildwood poetry written and posted in this blog.


The Golden Savannah

Have you seen the African golden Savannah?
Come drive through dried brown grassland
Come bake in the heat of the sun
Come taste the corn beer, cooked by the locals
Come ride the horse through the wildlands
Come draw your name on the tropics beaches
Come and see…
The stray serpent, the Python or the Scorpion
The spotted skins of the Leopard or the Hyena
The foot paths of the giant African Elephant
And the herds of the colorful Giraffes and Zebras

The sun set is always golden
Painting the horizons with lively hue
The clouds are lighted with gold
As numerous birds fly happily home
View the amazing sights of the waters falling from the Victoria
Crystals of liquid jewel, playing joyfully in reckless carelessness
The forests are treacherous, but they beckon
“Come and see, come to me!”
Come run the hills and dance with the Masai
Come drink the waters of the Niger river
Come eat the sweet cassava flour bread
Come feel the hustle of the African metropolis
Come and never be in a hurry to go
The African golden Savannah calls to you


Musing: Baby Chicken

The days hours go fast
The sun makes all lazy
Then came two strange looking birds
Straying away from the hen brood
To come sit beside me
Ignoring their mother hens calls
Funny birds!
But they were all sitting beside me
Listening to the airy wind
And the sounds coming from trees
Maybe they thought I was their father!