Remember me

I remember your stories

Of bombs and guns

Of decimated hills and homes

And broken dreams and destinies!

I remember the thunder that broke backs

That tore the roof off our homes

And brought hardship upon babies

I remember you the victor

Who took our children

And made them men,

Men which became slaves

And must flow with the waves

Of a failed nationhood!

I remember tales of portruding bellies

And men who enjoyed seeing fellow men dead

The rat-tattling of heavy machine gun

Which drove children away from their homes

And killed the soul of men who called us conmonwealth


King David


And with palms strained from playing

The guitar

He walks home with the happy flock

Gentle was his walk

Joyful was his apparition

So he recalled his adventures

The songs he sang under the Sycamore

The bear he expelled

And the lion he killed

Diligently he led the sheep

Guiding them

Without knowledge of his training

For God had anointed him King

And his sheep was Israel


Muse: Humble Home

Even when the sun set far away from you

It gives me joy to remember my humble home


There’s a place in my mind where my eyes desire,

Where my heart rejoice when I behold her beauty

The mornings bring abundant joy to me

And the evening is a delight I long for

Sometimes our pots are half full

Sometimes they are half empty

But the peace here is fulfilling


At breakfast Ma serves the honey bread

And will tell the tales of the stingy bees

And how we must not mess with those!

In the late evenings Granny will start her stories

She told of the countryside, and of the years she lived

I have learned my grandfather fought in Hitlers war

And he loved the things I so much cherished now

Aunt Nena has joked that I was my Grandpa’s reincarnate

It was a good laugh for everyone, nothing could compare to that…


To be continued


Commentary: This piece is dedicated to my late Grandpa, Mazi Abraham Duruoha, late Granny Uluocha Duruoha Chinyere and my late Aunt Nnenna Stephen. God bless their souls. Amen.

Image by my little brother: Chijindu Favour Iroegbu


Two poems: You remind me and the Owl

You remind me

You remind me of the sunshine

Dimples on your face like the half sun

Surface when you smile

You have become my pretty sunshine

The one whose face reminds me of the sun


The Owl

Dark nights are your playground.

You steal through the quietness

Striking the air with great talons

Keeping guard of the lonely streets

While the night your element, watched


Another Shepherd lore

There are memorable thoughts that goes each night

As the lonely shepherd lays on his bed of soft wool

The days stress comes calling by, dragging each moment with it

Expressing to the shepherd how the day went, rough or smooth

From his bed he must see the stars glittering above the night

And with a smile upon his face he held down his pillow

Reliving the sheep bleat and the soft airs from the green valley

He taps the lid of his cigarette box each time a sheep grunted

And tried to count the numerous stars that stood boldly before him

The night was young and so was the shepherd’s dream!


Love song: When you smile

I remember the first time you looked at me

I watched my feet dance in my long walk

I knew the celebration that came from love that stayed a while


I remember the first time you smiled at me

I felt my heart dance and rejoice

I was happy ’cause your smiled touched a part of me left out


So when you look at me, I am full of joy

When you smile, I feel love in many tongues:

I love you, Ina son ki, ahurum gi nanya!



Africans are known to express love more verbally. This little piece, perhaps is a song I wrote to celebrate love. Mind you, I love a lot. My concern goes extensively to the preservation of nature. Much harm have been done to the Earth. But it is left for us to try to reverse the trend.

Ina son ki: Hausa language to I love you

Ahurum gi nanya: Igbo language for I love you


Waiting for the Sun

It may seem the days are dark and blurry

For the lively sun sleeps

Time goes by drawing sheets of boring moments

Faces portray gloom, the firmaments make it even worse

Even the little rabbits, birds and butterflies that glide

About the wonderful landscape hid from the valleys

Sweet flowery scents are stifled in the cold winds

And maybe the environment is very sick

By the hillside, a group of travelers make camp

Their caravans including patches of white in the scenario

Different colors of triangles, of cotton materials pin

To the ground, but the pretty colors will not shine forth

Deep inside the village, the farmers file their gadgets

In their minds and perhaps among their crops in the field

It was a cold day, one without any joy, a lost one

So, within and without, all stay to wait for the sun


The Song in me

…Your love are the unwritten lyrics in me

Even when the cymbals and bass pause

You light my soul with very sweet music!


Muse: Young Lion

I like to think myself as a young lion

Traveling the great grassland

With no fear or foe

But courage and wisdom

I like to think myself an umbrella

Floating above the firmaments

Wrapping my warm tentacles

About the cold, weak and lonely

I like to think myself as the rain

That flood the fertile valley

So that in the sunny morning

The young grass may rejoice!

I like to think myself as a tribal chief

One who holds peace, justice

And truth as the sole title

So that my people may be free!

I like to think myself as an idea to come

Though it may have tarried

But when it shall manifest

May my Africa know abundant joy!



May symbolizes every good thing life offers

It is the time of the year many flowers blossom

Sweet fruits bless the human taste

Vegetables provide the greens needed

Great wild winds ride the firmament

While the rains wash off the dusty plains

Upon the wild flowers that grow on the roadside

Many insects gather to feast on sweet nectars

On sunny gold colored clouds mornings

Away from human settlement…

Wheat and maize fields paint the land yellow and green

Bees and hoppers buzz, for them a bright day to ride

Trees are fresh, rivers rush and waterfalls wash down

Hawks glide, gators gape and monkeys jump about

Now within the little hamlet we call home

May is a paradise!

Mornings are blissful, spreading curtains

To see the endless patch of green land

Brings beautiful feelings of nostalgia

The smell of corn meal with beef stew

And fresh palm wine welcome the evening

From the early morning dew

To the evening setting sun

May gives a great story to tell