The Rainmakers Tale: Tradition

Give me some rain,
Take away the present situation
Let the wind bid me warn again
Give me rain, dear Heaven!

Let if flood the browned farmlands
Let it refresh the waters of the ponds
And the hards rocks upon the dry Earth
Let the hamlet be full of the wet clay salt

The Heavens will rumble
I summon the East winds
I knee before the passing clouds
I hear the aves call out loud

I summon thee Wind from afar
And She quietly comes binding alas
It throws the heavy mighty doors ajar
And what a rain that must fall, aa-hah!

The clear clouds are darkened
The firmaments are blackened
There is a powerful surge of wind,
To the East where it always stayed

On such evenings when all is weak and wiery
When the rain falls on this hamlet, hurriedly
My long candle lights become crimson with fury
As my light-grey curtains dance in sheer frenzy

So right now I am standing,
I stand beneath the falling rains
I chose to, for it is my special calling
And I thank Heaven for this blessing!


The Poem of a Shepherd

I will tell you about my Jehovah,
My beautiful encounters with Him
His creations that made me wonder
With each passing day and dream

The tall Red Pine blossom
When there is such a wild-wind
It shakes down leaves for the ‘groom’
Twisting, circling as they fall down

Stand at the zenith of the hills
See the green lowlands and plains
Without pillars, as they rise and fall
And this, no physician can explain

The sun light paints the land
With her rising awesomeness
She colors all life, gold
A hue bringing great happiness

I am amazed in the morning
For it brings abundant joy
To people that are mourning
And to all, He makes rejoice

He sends the heavy night rains
To calm the laborers daily toil
And fills pots with abundance,
The waters make moist the soil

I see Him in the waking of the sun
And when the mist rise up the cloud,
On dew waking early in the morning
And the streams that run Eastward

His Love is like the surging wind
None can stand on its way
The waterfalls tell of these words
Which the psalmists sing and say

He had made storm in the desert
And water has come from dunes
He had consoled the souls, hurt
And made Kings from common men

The strange clouds pass by
But the Love of God stays;
Tarry a little more, for His light
Must surely come some day

I am left to wonder alone
The awesome power of my Creator
He who made the rain and the snow
And the earth a living sculpture


A beautiful day

The light has come upon my eyes
Birds twitter behind the windows glass
Beautiful sunrise across the horizon
The skies are gold, so is the land

Voices of people are drawn to me
What a marvelous day it will be!
The big sleepy town wakes very slowly
Man, woman, child, pets, trees, Lilies

I see wonderfully, I am conscious
Wake to the Lords abundant grace
I am alive today, the Lords blessed day
One in a bright and sunny month of May


The Almighty

There is Him who lights the moon light like a bulb
He makes the rain shower on all green life
He surfs the thunder storm like a horse
Throwing to the Earth a veil of white snow
He gives the morning fresh scent of hope,
Binding the nights to curdle the weary

I listen to His powerful voice whenever it
Pattering upon the rooftops, drums of nature
The Heavens rumble as the shower falls
He strides the plains surrounding the
Overlooking the wilds and the animals that graze
And makes the Whistling Pines sigh in the breeze
He makes a big thunder storm in the desert
Pools of water spring up to feed the weak
He puts beautiful smiles upon an infants face
Making all wonder how awesome His
powers can be
His signature is written all over the cloudful sky
He is mighty, He is powerful, Jehovah Elohim
I have a Him, Who likes to see me attempt to create
For He has made the universe with spoken poetry!


The Clouds gather

The clouds gather
And in her wake
The evening turned black
Clouds gather above the sky
As light showers try to descend,
The showers fall on the clay
As beautiful humid smell arise

The clouds gather
Above the little town
She wakes the lightning
And all evening
The lightning took shots
Of the warm wetlands
Sending a cold surge of air
Flinging stray papers and silt
And making dresses dance
But all men must retire
For fear of the coming storm
And the asunder it brings


Oke Iroegbu’s Shepherds Tale

Is it not a great night to write?
What beats our lovely imagination
When stars fall with colors bright
Or as a ninja-faced Soy bean sprout?

The nights are like firecrackers
Blossoming into beautiful stars
When they hit the soft sky
Shedding light shots of hues
They remind a tired shepherd
Of the days walk with the sheep
And when the cold night comes
Before he sets his head upon a pillow
He shoves some words on paper
Making poetry of his wandering
Counting green trees he passed by
The mistletoes, the Teak and the Sycamore
The little mysteries of the woods and her lores
And when he does lay to a quiet sleep
Letting his mouth be on a Coconut sip
Smiling to the dreams which he held back
As all grow dim and the night become dark


Rainmakers’ tales: 2 tales of Oke- Iroegbu

When I am not making the rain fall
And flood the villagers huts and farms
And to make the river banks overflow
So that the forests pathway is swampy
And the great crocodiles are washed ashore;
Then I will be watching the glittering stars
And talking about the stars, the night and moon
Well, the night is never complete without a tale
For the sleepy little ones,
But this time, no reading from a book
I shall tell you of the Forest and her folks
… Oke- Iroegbu

Once when the Forests owned all the land
And the Forest King has loved the greens
For it spread, such that the white mountains
Were covered with green grasses and plants
The Wind truly loved the look on the Mountain
For during the Winter, she had grown terribly cold
That she felt absolutely nothing even for the Wind
Then she had no dimples, no smiles, no blushing
Then it was only the Tomato that blushed about
Tanners, farmers, pupeteers called out to her
And all she could was smile and blush deep red
The Ice King wooed the Mountain and usually
Gathered about her face to give her a warm kiss
But this never went down well with the cool Wind
Now that the Ice King has gone with his captains
And Summer has come, the Forests came with their greens
How awlful, the Wind felt all year round
Seemed he was just a big time born loser!
But the true logic being that the Mountain
Was never meant for this young Wind

Now it was the tradition that the young men
Cut wood in the neighboring green forests
Before they can be allowed to chose a maiden
There was no axes in the town and near hamlets
And men were desperate for things
Even when they are not ready and ripe for it
Mirtle was a young man, despised and frail
Naturally dull, but deep inside he was a man
The youth of the hamlet, saw him as a weakling
And infact unfit for this great competition
So he was abandoned, and the other men
Went deep into the hearts of the green forest
Looking for wood, for there was no axe then
Then came dwarves walking about the hamlet
Without food or warm clothing
And night came upon them daily
And they starve and want warmness
And no one cared or even looked at them
For the villagers loathed the dwarves
But not all of them were villains
The weak Mirtle might be weak physically
But he had compassion and love
And knew what it meant to be cold
Not from the treacherous night weather
But from the hatred that lurks in peoples hearts
Mirtle gave his food and warm cloths
To some of the dying dwarves
Sharing with them till he had none
One night, the Chief Dwarf presented a gift
And lo! An axe, not just ordinary
And so Mirtle had wood and a fair maid
For his kindness to strangers in need

I knew you got the message, I had imagined and made this story to teach about love and kindness. Abraham entertained angels without knowing it.


Time to Pray

” …For where is God our maker, who giveth songs in the night, Who teaches us more than the beasts of the earth and makes us wiser than the birds of heaven?”
-Job 35.10, 11

Now the lands is dry
We seek drinking water
Strife is the order of the day
Pain, prejudice, poverty
Little children and divorce effects
Religious misunderstandings
Jerusalem, Syria and Africa
Wildfires and ethnic tensions
Ebola and HIV, neighborhood crimes
This is not the earth I write of…

Even when hopes fade like the sun down
And the paths are full of great thorns
We look unto Thee Jehovah Shammah
The One who knows the end from the start

This is not a poem, please don’t count it as such. This is my reflection, a prayer I render to God Almighty. The world has lost her mind. News of death, pain, disasters, diseases, wars, ethnic tensions, poverty, drought, earthquakes and more. I am scared of watching the news. I can’t imagine what the world is heading to… Please pray with me.


The noise called Love

Wait a minute
Why does my heart beat sound that way,
Like a hundred samba drums of Brazil
Thrilling a thousand voices of excitement
On a sandy pitch were soccer is played?

Jungles have got their noise
The Lions, the Elephants, the wild Oaks
Cities have got their noise
The automobiles, the bikes, the ice cream man
Schools have got their noise
Aee Bee Cee, One Two Three, Doh Rah Meh!
But true love has got its noise
A joyful and steady, silent heart beat
Which no human ear can decipher


Musing: My Doves

Feathers flapping
Sitting on my arms
With their young claws
Not to let go
Not to fall down
Man and dove
Care and love
When I hold you two up with care
You stare into my eyes with curiosity
What a dark world
Your fine eyeballs
Seem to say,
Roving around my place
On my arms you two perched
Trying to get a balance
Whenever I walked off
Even afraid to fly off
From my own very arms!
Uncertainty, but not to worry
For to your mom you must return

Okay! I happened on these two baby doves three days ago. Their mother flew off, and in their attempt to follow fell on the floor. So I couldnt leave them out there. It was getting late and cats and other wilder birds could attack them. I took them in for the night, made a cosy bed for them and in the morning they were the first to wake. After my chores, I returned them were I got them. I also noticed doves cooing in the location, so my assumption was the mother was out looking for them with their kith and kin. How adorable! When I checked back much later I saw their mom with the babies on the rooftop. Doves are such lovely birds with nice hearts.


Poetale: The Vampire

I wonder why we are warm blooded
And yet men is to another, stone cold
The suns’ light hide such many things;
In the depths of wells, beings with wings
And the thoughts, which we fear exist
They come and disappear like the mist

With the appearance of the moon
The fur extends beyond the skin
Farther it stretches to a big beard
Faces torn, strange and very bold
The tricks Nature play on men:
As like Count Dracula in his den
And all fiery and fearful beings
Which I solemnly call ‘just things’

Walk not alone in a forest
By a full moon light
Dreadful creatures crawl about
Seeking for that, that gives it delight;
No conscience, but real taste
For the warm blood on the breast

And when I had a little converse
On what gives her special interest
I got a huge shocker
And I was left to wonder…

Life is not always cold
Afterthoughts, I replied
“Don’t you see how I look?
I am a fellow vampire too,
I have long ears like the elf
Lips, eye colors, all of a wolf!”
Trying to fend off signs of fear
Both of us, never to see the others fare
And for those who call out like an umpire
A quick terror of such a name, vampire

For my friend Grace Anya, for she believes she’s a vampire.


Three Poems of Oke’ Iroegbu: Night is falling, The moons tale and Hope

Night falls after the sun
And to homes we all return
Counting the days stress and toil
Letting the darkened kettle boil
And preying our eyes on passing people
While we eat out plates of sweet potato

When the full moon come out
The whole clan makes a sit-out
The infants, the boys, girls, men, women and clowns
And for those who love the buzz of night life in the town
Tales told about the strong and tall Giraffe
And how she ate the sickly moon half

Hope grows in any determined mind
To courage and self-believe, he is binded
The struggles and pains of the years past
Ride his mind like the reins of a horse
Things do not fall in place as expected always
But the strong in trust and faith wins the day


Haiku: Hope

There shines a chain of stars, lined up the
night sky
Glittering to the quiet and queer custom; a perfect night style
Lighting up the hill top; a spectacular view of these forested lands
Let’s hope on Divine providence; it will never forsake our hands


May 2016

In the morning
After the rains,
The lands are wet
With dew and mist
The rivers overflow
The sun is slow
To wake
For the towns’ sake,
In instalments
On the roofs first
On the trees and nests
On the fields and streets
Through the lands, wild
And upon all mankind