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Beautiful

Beautiful are your smiles
The curves on your mouth are alluring
They pout as you stare at me
Your eyes say a lot to a thoughtful me

Beautiful are your eyes
The straight lines of your face are pretty
The thought of you are good dreams,
You are my inspiration!

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For me, a thoughtful piece

1.
There are hidden crickets singing carefree-ly
Whenever I find myself in my quiet time
A moment just before I set into a reverie,
A moment I recall all I like to see in my dream

Dreams come true if you keep it at heart;
What joy one will have to climb the Kilimanjaro
Or to drive thru the wild fields of the Veldt
Or to watch the Lions as they prowl the land of Tsavo!

I find fascinating the rhythm of waterfalls
The thoughts of the hot Sahara and her sands
The morning hoo-hooting of the gentle Doves as they call
The healing touch come from mother Natures greatness

I was in reality, killed an attacking green snake
A chipmunk, a crab, a scorpion and even more-
I sit to wonder what might be mother Natures take,
On my acts and hope I never disrupted her flow

2.
I offer to myself a series of thoughts and words
Stirring the excellent spirit of God to guide me,
Believing on the power of my soaring mind
And taking a stand to be better, to take the lead

The dawn gives me a fresh start,
Yet another dream to find beautiful
A story of reality or fantasies I write
And ideas for lifes advancement plentiful

I am indebted to hardwork…
‘Following knowledge like a sinking star’
Gathering my steps one at a time,
And now my life is about going prime!

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Three Short Poems: The Stars, June and Thankful

::The Stars::
We wait under the old mango tree
Counting the glittering stars
And lying on the sandy soil
To get a better glimpse of the skies
The Wind is our guest,
She mocks the rendezvous
She whispers the tunes of Nature
And drag tree leaves with it
An evening of quietness
A moment to let thoughts wander
And travel with amazing time,
When the night draw nearer
Then the stars come to glitter

::June::
This month heralds greatness
A month of green and rain
Where tree leaves fall in circles
Dancing to meet the earth,
And when they drop finally
They settle to a new life…
June, supposes a banquet of rain
It feeds the cattle with fresh grass
And men with hope and plenty joy
The fields of corn ripen in the sun
Changing from green to golden
The smell of rain upon the clay
Define mechanisms unseen anywhere!

::Thankful::
Now nothing compares to a life,
Grateful and full of appreciation
Never mince words, say it
Never assume things, pray it
I am thankful to you reader…
I am thankful to all helpers
I am thankful for poetry and Nature
I am thankful to myself, Oke’ Iroegbu
I am thankful for the mind and pen
I am thankful for this sweet inspiration
To be or not to be,
Without or within
I am thankful dear Lord Jesus Christ

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Thoughts

Dear diary,
Night falls now…

The city is quiet
Save from toads
Out in the field
And wild crickets
Hiding on the walls

The distinct noises
Of a quarelling couple
Disturb my thoughts
Down on this bed,
I count the days work

There were strange clouds
Up the clouds today
There were tales in my mind
And a quiet time…
Each in different times

Brick walls of school
Playful kids all about
But hey, maths is important
So you must pay attention
Pythagoras, Guassian, Boyle

Books…
There’s a pile on my bed
ODM, Igbo bible, NIV, etc
Teachers Math guide, hmm
A feel of mental work

The streets…
And from the window
The bean-ball vendor
Hawk her products
Nothing really changed

The bank…
Fidelity, we keep our words
Okay oo, I heard you
Then: Have a nice day!
They shout after me

Okay, Teevee…
Flipping the channels
BBC, Brexit, Aljazeera, EU
Obama, Buhari, Ali, Trump
France, Syria, Biafra, Venezuela

Food…
Pick of cracker biscuits
Vit. C, Iodine, peppery soup
Some heavy carbohydrates
And a taste of garlic

The streets busybodies…
They stare always all times
Like very seriously?
You do see me pass
Thru here always, don’t ya?

And street again…
Went strolling and visiting,
Fascinated by the peace in me
Even though the world
Seem to fall slowly apart…

I wonder
What our world
Is fast becoming,
And why kids die in vain
While nations watch war films

But now I recall all
And hope for a better tomorrow
As I retire for the day!

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Muse: Ne’er too late

When the sun fails to wake,
The day grows so cold and gloomy
The Dew cast her spell on the day
From the hilltops, vales and lakes
To the countryside which is woody,
And the ponds where the ducks lay
There is no ‘life’ in the sad day

By the riverside, the wind blast
Throwing the trees into a wild frenzy
The leaves fall into the flowing rivers
As the white waters rush in haste
To lands where very few can see
If the morning sun fails to rise even higher
Should it be an excuse not to work harder?

Now if the sun fails to rise
We grow weak with the waking day
And all surge of energy for work
Disappears from even the hardworker,
We excuse ourselves with the days rain
And call the heavy storms bad names
But if the sun never woke from her slumber
Should we join her in her temporary sleep?

Let a cloudy day come and rain fall
But don’t let your spirits be dampened
It is never too late to start

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Nneoma

Nneoma, nwayi oma m ji eme onu
Obidiya,
Anam ede akwukwo a
N’ihi gi, n’ihi ihunanya gi
Iru gi di ka mmiri no n’iyi
Ochi gi na-eme m obi uto
Enweghi ihe m ga eji tunyere ya

Lee kwa mgbe akwa n’egbum
I kpom si
“Bia, kam bie gi oma
Tinye aka gi n’akam
Biko kwusi ibe akwa”
Lee kwasim anya na anya
Nwayi mara mma
Mara udiri udo na anuri
Di na obim tata

Mgbe ubosi na adada
I na eche m nche
Mgbe oke oyi na atu
I nye akwa gi
Mgbe agu di n’obodo
I nyem ihe oriri gi

Mara nke a, nwayi oma
Mara na m huru gi n’anya

Commentary.
There is a translation after this commentary. Here goes my first native poem in Igbo language! The Igbo is a south east Nigerian nation. I can’t say why this poem came today or why it hasn’t come before now. I have looked forward to writing more in African languages with appropriate translation in English. I dedicate this poem to all my loved ones, to friends and well wishers, to you my beloved readers and finally to all mothers.

Title: Sweet Mother

Sweet mother, my pride!
The husbands heart beat
I write this piece
Cos of you, cos of your love
Your face glitter like the waters of the stream
Your laughter gives me joy
Nothing compares to it!

Even when I cry before you,
You call to me, saying
“Come to me dear
Give me your hands
Please, stop crying”
Now look at my eyes
Beautiful and good woman
And know the kind of joy
That brews in my heart!

When night comes upon us
You shield me
When the cold is terrible
You give your warmth
Even when famine comes
You give me your food

And please know this dear mother
I am so in love with you

Learn Igbo language here.

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Colors: the first part

Colors are very beautiful
They tell a lot about all;
And a little about this and that
The ocean, the sun
The mice that live across
The busy street roads
Or the golden corn field
And the wild, the deserts
And the ice of Antarctica
Colors describe our feelings
Red with rage
The royal purple…

Each day wakes with colors
Take the flowers as an example,
Some grow so pale like the purple
And some, like the blessed color of harvest
Gold, the suns’ face upon a field of wheat

The soft and mild wind move about, quietly
Up the great green trees where the pretty birds live
And on the grey soil where the mushrooms thrive
But none is able to paint her till this day
Why? I wonder, but none can truly say

Okay let us paint a color, a fair one
Just any color which comes to mind
Flaunt the blues, make a little mound
Of nice sweet dreamy hue of orange
With a bunch of hogs walking to forage

Okay, let us talk about the eye hues
About the red that signifies danger
And the blood-shot eyes of the Hyena
Brown, that makes all images muddy
And to me seems a lot more nasty

What if there was a color of feelings?
Now let us try to paint a color of love
Like a surge of water upon the wharf
How amazing it is to add a drop of ruby
A humble hue, just for you and me?

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Pastoral

Pastoral: The Shepherd

Aye, he stayed in the vast wild lands alone,
With only the bleating of sheep as his song
And smell of grass and dung as his perfumes
The singing of birds play him sweet hymns
And his friends and companions are mother Natures abundance
Under the trees, he sits to play a song for his wild acquiantance
The sheep listen to his strings, as he sang out loud and patiently waits
The brave ones lay on his foot and look upon the peace on his face
He is unperturbed by the roaring wild beasts
Nor by the treacherous wind that sift about
He smiles to each passing bee or stray wasp
Leaning on a tree, he retires to a little nap
Even in his songs he tells of the far quiet green lands at the bay
And dreamful sheep bleat and hope to get there some day
He laughs heartily, plays some more tunes
Singing of the fine Sycamore and the Prunes

The evening approached the vales shyly
And so the dark night came on swiftly
The shepherd looks up to the setting sun
And then calls out to the sheep all around
It was time to go home for rest
Along the way, he carried a young lamb upon his breast
The night came so fast and so was the walk around the hilly bend
Yet the cold nights has no mercy on them who took refuge in the open
Finally, the sheeps bleat a good night to their weary master
As he locks the barns entrance and prepares to retire

On his bed of wool, he tosses and turns hopefully
The day was long and he after the walk was weary
The night was full of common activities
The cats outside, the swooshing trees and the crickets
But a night of such, he must play on his long strings
And sing songs of lands where there are sweet green lands
With the sheep in the other barn, listening joyfully to the song
Hoping and longing to see this land the shepherd sang of

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A Love poem

Your words are sweet like honeycombs
Freshly taken from the bark of the trees
And melting in my lips, like butter on fire

Like the graceful wild deer you walk
And the soft sound of your foot walk
Beats strongly, the drums of my heart

The swift surge of the evening air
Compares not to your amazing smile
Your glittering teeth, splendor of my soul

You make me laugh out, happy
In my dreams I behold your face
When I wake, it is your smile I recall

Upon your face the sun rises
As like vale-lands hidden by the high hills
The dark is pushed away when you wake

The tuft on your hands like the reeds
That flourish by the side of the river
Dark is your skin, blessed is you

You are loved and admired
I am your biggest fan and friend
You are another Gods love to me

I was awake tonight of June
My hands shiver upon my papers
As I pencil down these words

Memories flood my big head
But I find it joyful to say few
I count myself very blessed

Oke’ Iroegbu

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June

This morning brought me some fresh rain
From my window I see the rains drop around
The fresh smell of the clayey soil come
Mixed with the scent of boiling corn
Blue clouds sift across the skyline
As the Doves come down to dine
Always; brown and greens all about
Grasses of the south start to sprout
The day is new, a month is born
And pretty June just came around
With her a handful of rain
For all- faun, flora and man