When there was love
I saw the white clouds
Crystal clear
Like the sweet spring
Leaping in joyful haste
To lands that thirst
For the life-giving water
Categories
Month: Apr 2019
Categories
A Psalm: Your Voice
When I spoke with You I felt the rhythm in Your voice
It gave me the push to wake the solo song singing in me,
It made the ink in me flow
Guiding as I let my words sow
Your voice caged the fear in me
Showered on me pieces of life sweets
It drove me through the quietness of the cloud
And the mighty forest line swooshing loud
Your voice calls out from the mountain ranges
Letting the echo thunder across the lowly valleys
In the evening wind You speak
Light are the words You spoke
In the starry night, You sing
For a weary shepherd, waiting
Your blessing and voice has become a great inspiration
And I am thankful, dear Lord for all You have done
Categories
Masked lover
Sweet are your words and talking
Even softer are the touch of your hands
But the moments the scales came falling
It was crystal clear you never had loved
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Muse: By the Waterside
Once by the Waterside I strayed
Minding the car traffic racing about
A bridge led down a couple of stairs
And I happened on the market
A stranger in the midst of strangers
Throwing wares over my face
What a mighty mix of man and ware!
At a corner a heap of decaying fruits and vegetables lay
Smell of rotten tomatoes, chilli and cabbages especially fill the air
Strange, by the heaps side a great number of livestock rummage
Tearing apart the huge dirt that stood majestically on the earth
The smell of cattle or goat urine and blood stench the air
Gathering a flock of birds and the glamorous flies above
Further ahead, smoke rise up to romance the heavens
Scattering at several points were reed on the slow river grow
From the bridge I could see the depths
Of the river, her waters and polluted pain
White crystals rushing on one another
To somewhere we can not account for
And where they turn black with filth
Categories
Ladawa: An African love song
When you look at me, it tells me many stories
I drown in the ocean of thought and love
Will it be your slim hands or the flowers you wear
Or the hair do that celebrates the African woman?
You smell like the morning dew on roses
And sometimes like mint mixed with guava!
And when you smile at me, I swing like the monkey
Through branches of abundant joy and desire
I call your name; Ladawa, my own Ladawa
Softly, you whisper back like the mambas spit
I am very obsessively happy calling your name
So let the forests, the hills standing and valleys lying hear
Of my strange love song for you dearest one!
**
Commentary
Ladawa is a made up name.
Categories
Easter, 2019
I see the world through Your eyes
And it’s clear how much You loved
Even to take my grief and pain away
I celebrate Your beauty for my ashes
How the stars glitter tonight
In thousands they shine
Twinkling, above the skies!
Winking at children who watch
Through their window curtains
The mild feelings they bring
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Muse: Rainmaker
I shall command the rain about
So please stand aside and watch
Make ready, get your pots
Dance in the warmth it brought
Enjoy also the life that come with it
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Morning Sun
Hail the sun rises with her gold,
Across the horizon she paints the land
The green great plains lay low
Watching her presence grow
The hills rise to meet her warmth
Desiring the joy she brought to the hamlet
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The Lightning
From my curtains I peered to see your flash
Before now you have kept my candle light busy
Trashing the paper work all over the room
And making jest of me each time I tried to sort them
You created monsters in the skies
The black clouds became your drawing board
And you drew the face of an angry man
Eye brows, silly nostrils, goofy mouth,
All disappearing as you spend your ink
One remarkable thing though was the wind;
She came with you, trifle shy at first
Then growing in dangerous might
Shuffling through the tree lines
So that the little ones may think
That the great Candy monster had come
The tree leaves fly in the damp wind
As their paper companions in my room
The heaven bellies rumble again and again
Trumpets speaking in strange tongues
But then this will be another muse of you,
And of your pranks upon our little hamlet
Categories
Muse: Teach me
Lay me by the side of the brook,
Closer to the brown colored rocks
Make me see the waters tumble over
So teach me how to be your lover
Categories
An African song
“Na da oo, O Na da oo! Kuje kusanar!”
Bring the cymbals, bring also the gongs
Let’s make an African song…
Before you hit the cymbal
Remember the tune to the Tribal,
Twist your palm a bit to the left
But hold your strike, yes hold it
For I must blow the whistle
And introduce the songs title
I must blow the whistle
But strike the cymbal a little
Follow my lead
Tell of the days deed
Did it rain?
Did it shine?
Did the blue cloud sail across the horizon
Carrying with it the songs of kites and herons?
Or did Mazi Okoro visit his palm tree’s pots
So that we may be sure that wine will flow tonight?
The Palm and the Iroko trees are our virgin flowers
They are our symbol of fertility and power
Did you hear the leopard
Calling through the wild?
So let the ancient drum talk
Hit the areas marked with chalk:
“May the eagle perch,
May also the hawk perch
Let none forbid the other
From perching on the great ugba”
Gather the broken brooms and wood
Tonight we make a huge fire with logs
In preparation for our African song
Happy that the long day is done
***
Commentary.
Na da oo… Kuje kusanar!: Hausa language for “I am back, go and tell them”
Mazi Okoro: imaginary person. Mazi means Mister. In Igbo land, the Palmwine tapper normally sets his pots on the tree were the wine was ripe and flowing. This may take some days to be full before it is harvested and prepared for consumption.
Iroko: A great tree in Igbo land.
Ugba: A tree in Igbo land
You are three hours away from me
Sometimes, a second, forty minutes
Or a month or a whole year!
Masked, you would not let me see all
That you carry
Tree barks turn grey with your time
But, when I happen to see it
It may have become green with life
So I tried to look into you instead
To get a glimpse of what you have for me
And to know if I would ever get to meet you
1.
The Shepherd
Night calls
Stars glitter up the skies
Picturing stories
Which can not be told
So the Shepherd views all
From his bed of wool
2.
Dance for me
I hear the sound of your feet
As they moved on the bare floor
So I looked to see the style for tonight
But in the musical crowd, you were lost
Swinging your hips
Teasing the generous crowd
And arresting men’s passion
3.
Say You Believe me
The past won’t make me think less of you
Pain, hurts and betrayals won’t either
So I invented a formula for our love
But you must believe, before it works
I can make you smile in a hundred ways
Tell you stories about the queer Giraffe
And how she ate the sick moon half
Maybe we can act the noisy zoo
You as the Squirrel and I the Cuckoo
So I have imagined the world we can create
If you can say you believe me
Memories are sweet or sad moments that live with us
Like the gladness the rains give when we sleep at night
Or the painting of da Vinci that lived past his ingenuity
Memories are penned down in our hearts
Throwing flowers to paths we trod once,
Walking down the steps that held our homes
And of places where the nights are groomed for dance
So memories are illusions of what may be
What may have been or shouldn’t have been
The happiness of seeing a baby form into a toddler,
Missing the point where it all began sourly or sweetly
To the time we turn to the casket and so they go away
Categories
Color called dirt
There’s no color called dirt but that of the earth
It is the hue that gives life yet it drags on the floor
It gives a humid stench when it cakes up on water
And tastes man’s grief when we lose a loved one
Beauty is the painting of paths
That men had never walked or seen
Like the pebbles which count not their existence
Beauty walks through the ranges and fjords
With shadows of pines and winter trees all about
And tree logs sailing quietly on the lonely waterway
Beauty is the art of tranquility
It is peace that comes with quietness,
The sands that lay on beaches stretched far away
Quietly for years, unperturbed, sitting on one another
With backgrounds of green tropical forests and rocks
And a wide variety of flora and fauna
Beauty is painting of the sea
Some are black, some light blue
Some a mild red and a patch of cream
But the hues match with that of the skies
So that the canoes look like middlemen
Caught in-between the clouds and sea
Categories
Dark Clouds
It is morning but it is still dark
Well, the clouds may have gone for a procession,
A procession hidden behind the heavenly firmaments
Strangely it may never storm
But the town can feel the damp
Soft airs play with the trees leaves
Flying them like kites up above the sky
Dark clouds hide the sun
Waiting for her ransome
The morning shy
Enjoy the warmth of mixed cold and hot air
So tbe airs, dark clouds and the morning
May have gone to sleep; a sleepy procession
Categories
A Tale of Two Rats
Gather around the fireplace
Sit and have some warmth
It is a cold night, is it?
But we must tell this tale
So listen to what I have to tell!
***
Once upon a Time and Place
In the great wilderness that lay away from the highway
And away from much civility, lived a very old woman
She was lonely, weak and frail but could fight anything
That strayed into her unkempt, dark and strange home
Listen, our tale is not about this woman but the rat
That defied all odds to live in her house
Now in the meeting of rats there was the house rats
And the bush rats, each respecting the others way of life,
Sometimes wishing that they could be in the shoes of the others
To see what life may be to them, since they only met during the meetings
Each time, the rats will brag about their homes and food
So the house rat living with the old lady had noticed the excitement
A new bush rat come from the deep forest had and took interest
He wanted to know why the bush rat was so excited living out in the cold
“Ey brother, ey what may be the reason behind your happiness?” He asked
“Oh, I see you haven’t noticed that the palm tree fruits are ripe
And soon the squirrel family will throw a daily feast to celebrate
And how lucky am I to be their closest neighbor on the floor!”
“Hmm, ey, will that be all to your excitement or is there another…?”
“Another reason being that the banana and tomatoes are ready for harvest
The birds will do a good job, but mostly we who live on the ground
May eat the best of their happy feast, ha!” He heartily laughed
“Well, what fun do you have burrowing in the mud?
Come to my place and I will make your excitement greater with better food!”
So the two rats reached a deal and after that meeting of rats
They sneaked away to the old woman’s lonely house
Up, down, up, down they galloped all day to the quiet house
At the entrance the house rat hushed the bush rat and bid
Him follow closely, so they tiptoed out of the hallway
Walking across the room, at the sound of the snoring woman
The bush rat startled, wondering what kind of beast greeted
The house rat quietly pulled him back and down the rat hole they went
“Geez, ey! What were you thinking?!” The house rat grunted
“Nothing serious. I always think and I was wondering if someone said hi”
So they waited till night fall and when the moon was up
So that her beautiful white lights shun through the curtains
The house rat woke the bush rat and off they went down the hall
Through the corner were brooms lay and the way towards the kitchen
At the doorway the bush rat perceived smell of good food
That he never had tasted or dreamt of, food oh majestic food!
He forgot himself and took some cheese in a fast bite
And it tasted so good that he ate again and again and again
Then came some pieces of chicken, some fruit salad cream
And chocolates and peanut butter and beef and toasted bread
“This must be Heaven,” he said with mouth full of bread
Meanwhile the house rat was busy filling himself too
And the noise they made woke the old lady who stole to the kitchen
With a swift swing she got the lights on and attacked the rats
Swearing, she struck the pots and plates and cups and everything on her way
At first, the house rat knew his whereabouts and soon disappeared
While the bush rat continued running around without a clue of an escape route
When the bush rat finally found a way out, he dove for it
The old lady could have been lucky
If the rats didn’t flee for dear lifes’ on time!
In the morning, before the chicken and the sun could wake
The bush rat thanked his friend and bid him well stay
In his home of fanciful plenty with no pint of peace
I want to see the great Antarctica
And the trail of the dunes of Sahara,
Save the tales of two different places
And reach out a hand to the homeless
*
I want to tell the tales of the sea gulls
Watch the dark colored sea bulls
Romance the infinite White land
As the cold wind surf the cloud
*
I want to feel the tranquility that comes with travel
The worlds best scenes and images that marvel;
Pharoah’s pyramids, the oceans, the kangaroo and Antarctica
The Great Wall, the Ikogosi falls, the platypus and pretty Pretoria
*
I want to watch the penguins play
Laugh on their silliness and pray
Hopeful, for Earth’s peace and survival
I want to see us all work on our worlds revival
