A muse: Star Light

Star light
But thousand miles away from home
They glitter still with their amazing innocence

Come on, dear glittering stars…
You wouldn’t know I am not at home, would you?

There are many glittering stars out tonight
Out they come, like a parade of great might
Come behold this exotic and pretty sight
Made from friendly stars which give fine light!


A painting of a hill on the Snows plague

Paint a land where crisscrossing figures
fall before hungry happy eyes
Tell of place where the skies see seizures
without which there are no sighs

Cut the soil, cut some mud
Mold the mud into some hill
Place the hill on the cut soil
And watch a quiet town
Grow beneath the hills shelter

Cut some paper, mold a bird
Cut some thread of seeds
Give the bird life and let her
Sow the seeds upon the hills mud
And watch it all grow to a forest

Paint some white cones, cut some streams
Cut the ever falling balls of snow
Give it life, let the snow flakes plague the hill
Let the town feel the icy grip of the cold
And prepare to undo and redo this all again



There are wings on the air
On a dark, very dark night

But the wings move from their lairs
Glowing colors hued black and white

The appearance seldom come so rare
Twinkling into the gravely dark night

The night is cold and dark, the night is bare
But if you watch, just admire the glowing sight


The Wind

You walk against the fast wind, your hair fall beside your haste
Down it rolls, flowing with the strong wind down your waist
All these while the swift wind and your fine hair go about their romance


First Words of P’Ville, SummerTown 2

                     images                       Summer had a lake which shone with the sun light

The shivering of the waters were seen even in the nights

By the roadside were carts drove were green and yellow flowers

And at some corners of the streets the crimson Rose stood taller

Than the street fencing which was immaculately painted white

From the vales down the road Summers castles on hills stood in sight

A part of the city harbored caves which the lost made their abode

Summers had villains, criminals who obeyed a Frog in the Woods

Swamps hid the other remnants of villains and burglars

Summers beauty reflected not on her inhabitants but on her clement weather

When it rained, it was more like melted sweet creams

So the city looked up to more creamy rain storm with glee

The Diamond Lake gave the town a feel of sea

And down the Burrows, Agui the cock  lived

…to be continued





Musing: Setting sun

The setting sun reminds me of many things
Some nice, some exciting, some make me laugh
And others leave me sobbing at the thought
But making me to laugh or leaving me to sob
I find times defined in those memories, not me
Twilight comes with even finer airs, playing
On fantasies that my mind accepted long ago
Demanding is the airs,  her companion upon her wake
Surging to meet all the news that came with the evening
Particularly, the rendezvous staged by happy lovers

When we play with the wor(l)ds

Let us say there are some mystery in the Earths misery

Fake hysteria overshadow Natures artless history

Yet with the blazing sun come our sober pun

Savaging the dying Earth: stay or run, but we cant run

And when we look to the South, there is strive

To the helpless North, there is a hungry drought;

 The mighty sands of the Sahara and her asunder

And the rising oceans which storm the land with flood

But verily we sit without remorse, we call it civilization

The sands sink, the Earth loses her own foundation

Now the Earth seek help, from her nest of melting ice

Confused, she  knew not what is happening and why


Musing: Halved, the Legend


Now I write you a piece of my heart tonight

In the growing Harmattan and her temperament

I am cut in two- I am halved in your Providence

One for your happiness, another for Your happiness


This piece of heart tells a tale of the sea folk

a story of survival, a war of loneliness and luck

Of a boy caught and taught by the sea, somewhere

A legend of the wild, of a land called Wawadomea*


Wawadomea: Imaginary place, Utopia

Nature Uncategorized

Draw the Sun


Draw the sun and paint your dreams

Believe in the little you do, hope for the best

Connect to your mind, live your dream!




Nothing compares to speeches made by the eyes
When fine memories tumble into low faint sighs
Now see our glamour fade before the waking morning
With the old tree, where we played sitting and grinning
Mourning the demise of a union which might not be
Or which was but could not be totally seen


First Words of P’Ville, SummerTown


When the Winter Witch got tired of the warmth
Which the fine golden sun brought
She decided to leave the sunny, pitiful city
And with her she took all her trinkets and jewellery
Then she would stare across the vast wild Oat fields
And all she saw was melting ice and she always sighed
In the quiet and early morning she was gone like the mist
Taking all her frost with her, everything even the least

Then it was time for the greens to blossom
The butterflies emerged from the silky worms
And the clouds wore a fairer apparition
Which came as a pair of joy and admiration
To all the inhabitants of this city called Summer
The tents are packed for resorts where the land is lower
And where the three rivers happily met
The land became wetter as the sun set

Summer was flowery, full of bees and butterflies
And derived her name from the abundant sun smiles
That roamed and romanced the whole land
But even in the quietness of the city’s idionsyncracies
Thru the pockets of farms and homes and hills and valleys
There exist some bugs and gnats and toads
Those who find it nice to be villains and rogues
But this is Summer, where there is a golden sun
And city of insects, here and there, stay or run…

To be continued…


The Messenger

Oke Iroegbu's Diary of Hope & Nostalgia (African Poems, Tales and Proverbs)


Kokookoroko kokorokoro
A greeting called from afar
The children ran out excited
As if the message was for them
But then who knows?
Heads up, listen attentively
Komkom korookom
Another beat rang out
Pushing the mild hit
Into the ears of even the heaviest village sleeper
‘Oh how cute, it is one of the Kings messengers’
‘A tall and fine one for that matter’
A group of young women chatter

The morning of a market day
Even before the sun sets on his journey
The gong goes before the man
A metal gong tells the whole clan
The tidings of the hamlet
The days not to visit the rivulet
The day to farm the deep forest
And when a service the King request
The boxing day, a revengeful day
The long brooms stalked away
Up the roof barns where fishes are smoked
And the wielder showing teeth tobacco soiled


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A Haiku: Pepper Crags

The world sat on pepper crags

The pain that came and went

Hunt the rest that sat beside her