A tale of the WildWoods 3: Summer arrives

When summer finally came, a lot had changed

The last snow melted and the sad land woke

Grasses started growing, covering the outer earth

So those who burrow scrambled out from the dust

Soft airs and tidings surround the mountainside

Sending sweet emissaries around the valley below

Vines, myrrhs, mistletoes and pines sprout happily

In the morning, the sunshine will not glitter on ice,

Instead the heat grew and the wood inhabitants felt it

First, the Squirrels thought the world was going crazy

And their cousins, the burrow rats seconded them

‘The frog choir will soon resume’, a brown Cricket observed

‘And if they do I am going to go crazy!’ a Sparrow replied

‘Not if they played on a softer note at least’

A Linnet added to the conversation

‘No way, they have all got bass! Male, female all bass!!’

A sad Bee, which sat on the tip of a tree leaf answered

Now, fresh grass brought the Deers and mountain goats

At the Otherside across the rocky land, the Stream flowed

Leaps of water, joyful that her prisoner had let her free

‘Crap! I mean did anyone notice that the cats are back?’

Some stray mice broke the niches silence

‘They have our land smeared with urine, them Bobcats!’

‘Yes, they think it is their fatherland. Well we better hide’

Now the wolf pack had no cold anymore

So they prowled the earth with more ease

Picking trails of rodents through the thick woods

The Mountain stood, usually a still, motionless figure

One that kept some admirers intrigued

As the ice melted, water trickled down to the land

And the wild wood fauna felt sad for her

For they believed she was weeping at her loss

‘She has been like this since the Ice King left’,

The soft voiced black and white Pigeons sang

‘She is heartbroken! Why will the Ice King be so cruel?

He even took her icy cloak and see, now… now she is naked!’

A duck said closing the eyes of her young with feathers

‘I think she looks pretty amazing, so much joy in pain

No one cares much enough, I think she needs a hug’

A tortoise with a huge shell opined

‘No she needs a gift’, the Wolf pack alpha barked

‘She is the worst person I ever met!’ he added

The other animals had to retreat to their homes

Or if you are too small or slow, just find a hideout

For the wolf pack, the villains of the valley

Had no mercy and they do as their word sound

‘What do we offer her, a fine rose shrub maybe?’

Another wolf suggested as the roses around hid

‘No, well anything. If she continue that way

I bet you the streams will overflow and we will have no land

To hunt, to plunder and to rule!’

‘Well, if being solitary is the best way of getting rid of vermin

Then it is the best shot at self discovery’

The philosophical Woodpecker reasoned from the tree top


Life: A Walk in the Park

Life is like a walk in the wooded green park

Where strange fine flowers and plants grow,

And pests; rodents, bunnies and insects abound

On the roadside will be mistletoes, thorny roses, even cactuses

With so much of harmless weed plants sprouting all about

They hurt if one touch them and won’t

If one will let them be,

There will be rocks and stones which will make the walk

Much tougher and insufferable for many

Yet the scenery is one of extreme beauty

But a walk through life itself will reveal a lot

Ups, downs,

Plains, hills,

Earth, water,

Love, hate,

Joy, pain,

A concoction brewed out of both good and bad

There must be a sort of balance, wearing the joy and pain away

And a device cloaking the lurking evil among the pretty green

The sun will normally shine, assuming he is good

And won’t burn everyone to death but grow the greenery

The rain will fall as usual, demanding a fair share of calamity

She might decide to flood the plains or fall in drought lands

There will be twist and turns all about

Rainfall, sunshine,

Smiles, tears,

Hopes, fears,

Bends, straight lines,

Rich, poor,

Every step seem to have a taste of two opposites

Swinging like Galileo’s pendulum, letting malevolence

Or benevolence swing, left or right

To fall, anytime on the guilty or innocent

One thing is that Nature has a way to console everyone

She either lets the tears of joy or pain dry in the suns heat

Or allow the soothing cold rains, wash them away


For Kofi Annan.


A lovers song

“I will love you even when the tree leaves fall
In the winters cold and summers heat
I will love you even when the days are gone
And when the nights grow even darkest”

I submit to you
All I have and own
I am your servant
But I am your lover

The nights must come
But we have each other
And we shall make the fire burn
The flowers we tend together

You tell me tales
I tell you mine too
But my tales are longer
You fall asleep before my last

Now what do you see in my eyes
When you stare in them?
You sweetly called it love right?
But you see yourself in my eyes

The morning is airy
We stand at the curtainside
But my arms are hairy
And it does tickle you

What if I told you something
That I care about your happiness
And that each time you smile
My heart rejoices in a joyful bliss

Look upon me now am young
Remember this grey-colored eyes
Remember also my elfy ears
Do not forget for I shall ask much later

And when my poetry muse
You shall always be my theme
What more happiness can I thank God for
But for you, my amazing friend and lover?


Life in African tropics

In the beginning, life in the tropical forests made more sense without man’s interest

When man was afraid to bother the endless mass of green with fearful bugs and insects


Strange as it seem, but the green tropical forest is a wonderland

So much activity go on here, such that it is a distinct world,

In the heat of the morning, the meek insects burrow in the sand

While the loud ones cry out to their scattered beloved

When it rain, the soft waters collect at a point and run off tree leaves

Creating many pools for thirsty fauns and plants that live around

Snakes, boas, mambas, lay lazy, enjoying their free sun tan

One eye on the sky and one on the quiet green landscape

Monkeys play games, disturbing neighbors who hide from them

When a dangerous stranger passed by, they honk with all their strength

For it was their tradition to do so when they see a hog, Leopard or python

So the day grow humid, sharing the heat of the waking sun across the horizon


Below the trees’ branches many mouths forage hungrily

Ants run up trees with heavy loads they struggle to carry,

On the soft soil, the bugs and worms dig away, hurriedly

Waiting for the coming darkness which seemed carefree,

Crocodiles and hippos sit in the sun with birds feasting on their bugs

Rivers and streams flow quietly or when the waters fall, it beats drums

Dragon flies pursue stray insects as hornets buzz about seeking their prey

Out on the humid air, birds fly, hunt and display their beauty

Hawks and Kites are rampant, the forest provides all their needs

Insects with and without wings play in the open insufferable sun

Winged ones; beetles, butterflies and mantis surf the wind

Enjoying the freedom and happiness that comes with the flight

But then the evening came treacherously; steady and quiet


It is now that birds fly away to their home, calling to the setting sun

Noisy Partridges, Swans, Cranes love the evening home coming

The slow walkers association led by Snails and Tortoises crawl home

The sunset bring great joy to the worms and the timid albino ants

To others like the grasshoppers, wasps and bees it was time to retire

Termites disappear into their tunnels, but their softer relatives, the sugar ants

Troop out to find their food, savoring the feeling that their own day just began

Snakes and tarantulas hide in corners, waiting for rats and other small rodents

Bats surface with fiery looking hoods, as that of a masquerade’s mask

It was night and it was time for nocturnal animals of different clans


In the end, life in the tropical forests made more sense without man’s interest

But it grew sore, now man’s snares and tools abound below the quiet tree roots


HealingWithNature: Lone Snail

A photo shot from Imam Akpabio. Can you feel the tranquility and serenity the image shows? Well, ahead of us is a snail foraging his turf. The little stones must be the hills and the spaces in between his valleys! I must say this is beautiful.


Musing: Hollow Heart

Do you know many who had looked through this heart

Saw nothing and left it hollow as it was?

But you came and made me sing like a baby

You saw the hollow in this heart, and filled it with melody

I tap my feet, I call you my wife, you are my perfect rhythm!

Ringing bells, cymbals, play your tune in my quiet head,

So I clap my hands now… For the way you make feel

Is more than anything and your love song is tasty

Intoxicating like the grape wine, something sent of Nature,

Yes, you make me dance like a mad man,

And I will dance, to show you how much you mean to me

Your song is my balm; healed my hearts hollow ailment,

I am so in love with you!


The Shepherds Song

Wild are her songs, wild are her imaginations

For in the midst of hungry bleating sheep

She could make songs that lift the soul


Taste of dew on the morning grass excites the herd

So that they call out in ecstatic joy to the shepherd

And she, noting the excitement, played hee wooden guitar

Caressing the instrument, singing with the herd her song

Of maah’s, and bleats occasioned with minutes of silence

The grass is soft, so are the shepherds palms upon the guitar

The quiet riverside is calm, the herd listen in wonder

So when she stroke the chords, the sheep call out in ecstasy

And with a soft voice she made them cosy,

Her songs talk of the golden fields of grass in Heaven

It sang of sweet pasture hidden behind the mountains

Where no man, shepherd and flock ever set foot on

And how the fields glitter in the warm heat of the sun

In the shepherds songs, she restates her love for the flock

Believing someday, the herd will see the fields of joy


September’s Love poem

Time taught us love and to hold,

With same time we grow old

All that remain will be memories

Of you, me: our happy, sad memories


Poetale: The house outside the city, Part 1

In a tiny house on the hills of the East

Far, far away from any town or village

A poor man and his seven little sons lived,

The house door opened straight on to the hillside

And all around were moorlands and huge stones

And swampy hollows, never a house nor much human activity

Wherever you might look, for their close neighbors mostly

Were the fairies in the glen below and browned grass


The man kept ducks and planted shrub yielding spices about the house

He had a meek donkey which knew nothing but eating hay,

When the man looked outside, through the house windows

It was winter and other times summer…

So times changed before his eyes, and he knew not what to do with his little sons….

The snow was thick upon the ground and on the tree branches in winter

And when it was summer, the yellow sun was high up the cloudy sky,

Now, the house had many strange visitors

The grey and white barn owls came mostly in the cold winter,

The rats, of course deemed themselves co-owners of the house,

Gophers only came during the hot summer with some stray scorpions

When it drizzles, though it seldom rains the centipedes find their way in

The most vile among the visitors was the coyotes which prowled

About the house and the mountains around it in the dead night

So when they howl at night, the little boys shivered under their bed covers

And the other inhabitants of the woods take care not to cross their path

In the morning, the boys saw claw marks on the wooden bench

And when they told their father, he wished it away, asking for breakfast

To be continued…