Author: Oke Iroegbu

I wish I could smile forever
Sometimes it does not come so
I wish I was to pick comely flowers
Out in the fields where grain grow

I wish I could help the dying world
Though it seems some wish otherwise
I wish the nights are free of the cruel cold
For those who have no shelter or house

I wish that mankind loves one another
And help to wipe tears of the oppressed
I wish that it would rain and the waters
To the hungry lands of the farms flood

I wish I could ride a white horse on a joyful hue
In the lonely mornings thru the countryside
I wish you could see how much I loved you
And that nothing would make me leave your side

Today I woke hopeful
Thinking about yesterdays news
It is already past the hour
And there is no eclipse here
Hmmm… Maybe it is happening
Somewhere, Vancouver or Siberia

But here it seem like a saturday
Not much traffic of people like before
I told a friend of mine about this
And she asked…
‘What is gonna happen?’
‘Eclipse of the sun…’
I answered.

Well some eclipse…

Meanwhile the sun is out, shining bright
Like always, gold and on the clouds
Unpertubed, undisturbed… Not bothered in any way
Well I will be watching the windows closely
Should the eclipse decide finally to show up!

How time flies
Memories fade too
But wear a smile
And always be good

Sing a song
Hum a tune
Dance along
Share a Coke

The days turn to weeks
The weeks to months
And the future we seek
But stay in Divine soothe

The grace of God blesses
It is a wonder
And from here come good wishes
So fly high September

THE NIGHT
The night is full of fresh air
One which come with the wind
Talking of the Wind, she is irresistable
Sweetly, comely to the flesh of men
And a quick aid to the lullaby’s effort

RAIN
It seem it will pour heavily, sometime later
For the Lightning had come to snap pictures
Of the Earth and the men that dwell therein
And if it won’t rain, maybe the wind will go
Just maybe…

THE NIGHT SONG
The several songs of the night now come up
‘Twinkle, twinkle, little star!’ How I wonder…
The ceaseless episode of the wailing bull frogs
And the fire bugs and warm crickets wake
Night birds; bats, owls and the rest
The hundreds of night voices unseen:
The wolves in the fields
The hovering mantis
The insects, the hogs
The things that walk the night
Gross and fair, thin and huge
Small and great, hideous and free
All in local unison sing a song like the choir
And rest on the night for their cover and shield

THE CHIMNEY
Down the chimney, a lot of drama unfold
The tongues of fire lick the woods quietly
The smoke move like a puff of air, rising into the air
And on the chimney lay a wake of dust, coal and soot

There was a rush of rainfall on the window side
Accompanied by a burst of cold wind
Which ate deep into the flesh of careless people
And caught people in between the crossfire
Of the cold wind and the torrential rain
There was no ceasefire, whatsoever. No peace, no victor
Just calm disaster. One accustomed to the people

The Clouds heavy stomach rumbled and purged above
And what big stomach she has!
For the length of the Earth
Marveled with each of her rumbling
And with each purge she sent down
A squirt of rain upon the bored Earth
Followed by a burst of a very cold wind

Now the day is far spent without the sun
The bright day slip away from the gentle morn
to a shivering, cold, dark and sleepy noon
So is the days tale, so is the tale of the cloud and rain
And their dilemma with the ever cold wind

The rain fall continued, fading away quietly,
Fading away to rise again after less time
The wind seem confused, she seemed misjudged
For she came and went without a quick notice

…and
It is already late to assume that the sun will rise again today

Days pass to weeks
weeks to months
Roses grow to shrubs
from greens to oranges

The dawn to dusk
path of life is made so;
seasons come and go
so do memories

When it shines
we remember the rain
when it storms
we remember the sun

Nothing is absolute
nothing will be perfect
without love and care
nothing will be worthwhile

The sweet nectar
grows in the flower
the bumble bee finds it
and makes honey from dew

If nothing is nothing
then something is something
If love is worth dying for
then that explains the Christian

But to desire without reason
that is ultimately absolute
but to care without affection
that is the purpose of true love

…We can never know who has fallen in love or hasn’t
Or why they falled in love or why they haven’t

but the ultimate is loving without reason

The angered throw stones at the glass wall
He shouts and curses,
He yells and he faints
But the glass wall sits and watches…

Rain fall, the sun beat the weathered glass
The smear of mud from passing vehicles, the sweat of palms
… But the glass wall sits unperturbed

The stain of ages passing by,
The cold touch of the nights
and wear and tear…
Yet the cold wall had no heart

So is life bottled up, unrepentant
Not noticing when true friendship of love
Slipped away…

Commentary:
People lose real friends when they chose to take them for granted. The Glass wall symbolizes the person who had lost emotion or feelings for a friend. The purpose perhaps is to draw attention to people change falling back on how you treat or take them. It is necessary to change if the people around you are not seeing your worth or value. It is never known on records that a human life is tied totally to the existence of a friend. But as social animals, we chose for ourselves friends; people who serve as family. But when people who are supposed to be ‘family’ or friends act weirdly, it is best to move on.

We should learn to appreciate the people in our lives, no matter what. Visit, call and relate with your family more, forgive freely, love dearly without expectations, give to the needy, enjoy your life, spend time with people who have nobody and in all do these things with the love of God. Though we have billions of people in the world, you might never find an exact of who has been there for you. Yes! You might see someone better, but what about history? You can never erase that. Make your family and friends see how important they are to you by the way you treat and take them.

Paper Poetry

Shake off the fatigue The world waits to meet you The world waits to celebrate you Look beyond the dark skies Look beyond your heights Look beyond the rain and storm Look beyond the past dreams Hit the weakly cocoon Break the walls open Fly butterfly, fly away Never hesitate on your flight to glory… Continue reading Paper Poetry

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I see inspiration.
In our conversation,
In the mornings we talk
My pen grow fruitful
Your memories take me places,
to the peaks of African ranges
and where the lion cubs stay

I see the future
Bright and blue,
the clouds crystal clear
Like spring water rushing in haste
To other lands where the sun shine
Where the stars glitter in the night
And me thanking you for flying high with me

I see myself…
When you are around
I feel the warmth
Of your words in me
They encompass my whole being
You remind me of my joy
the one I cultured from the pen

…and when I see myself
I see a future inspired by you!

Dear Diary

there is too much pain in the world
I do not believe everyone is evil, no
In the midst of the crowd, there are very good people
but they are very quiet and maybe scared
they let the sick and evil ones destroy the world
the world grows sick with each passing day
but hey! Nobody gives a damn, I am alone in this
seems I see this world radically, but I am not wrong atleast
there are devastating wars in the Arab world
see green patches turn black with pollution
and whole species going extinct in a twinkle
people suffer lack of water and medical care
in an advanced age of science, technology and (war!)
infants and children die of curable diseases
we buy feed automobiles fuel made from biogas
and yet there is no food! Oh God!
rivers that we grew up with turn around to flood our homes
driving us away from were we call home
torture, rape, hate and all that degrades man is common
we watch Teevee while the world spin to disaster
nothing is the same anymore…
Love is slowly filtering away…
To somewhere, maybe another planet
I do not believe everyone is happy or (sad)
Reason being that I am a little bit in between
the strain of the dying world and human carelessness
make me sad, the love of God Almighty give me hope

I am pained and unhappy with all these happenings
I hope one day mankind will find love for one another…

Have you ever been on the pathway to sleep
And all you could see was circles
spiralling
twisting and falling like mild paintings
on the wall?

Strange as it seem…
The queer songs of the night
come alife
the sweet tune of the frog choir across the road
where the rain water log…
And the treble voices of the cricket clan
play a wonderful track, which accustomed to the night
brought some relieve and some (sooth?)

The night throws a black blanket
over the tired earth
From a window, yawns filter in
there are other activities…
Nothing to interupt a well deserved sleep

Good night, sleep tight
May Gods angels keep you safe

Darkness falls…

The cries of night wolves and wild dogs
Rent the airs far away deep in the forest
The wind grew milder, the moon light brighter
And the sweet lullabies ring out from homes
A tradition, one which the little ones adore
The evening simmer into a deep darkness
As the African tales went on, on bedsides

So went the day, in this quiet hamlet

There was a land, somewhere in Africa
Where the rain won’t come for a long time
The people are lean from walking distances
In search of streams or rivers
But sometimes they get no water
For Crocodiles lived in those rivers
And they were always hungry, always!
So the men went with local guns
While the women followed with baskets
The distance was long and stones cut their feet
The children most times while struggling to climb the hills
Fall and faint… Same with women and men
A trip to the water side will take till mid day
And what was the prize?
Muddy, eel infested water from the earth!

Then, the river thinned out like the men
The sun took her toil, sucking away the moist
Once again, the people stayed without water
And crops withered with each morning sun
The land was barren, the people too…
And so was there crops and animals

A week went without rain…
People packed to leave the land
But then a child yelled excitedly
Pointing towards a growing cloud
That fast approached the clan
Then came the sound of the rumbling clouds
A light shower and the whole town went joyful
Some rain, some lifes… Africa…
No one will say, when the rain will go AWOL next

Commentary:
Many had died because of no good drinking water. Infact this is one of the major causes of human deaths in Africa. As we know, water is life and anything short of clean water can pose a serious threat to human lives.
This poetale is intended to draw attention to Africa’s major problem: lack of potable water. Now the poetale might sound relaxing but the real facts on ground are troubling. Africa needs water, and Africa needs your help and prayers. #Supportafrica, #HelpAfrica today.

Who is it that overcomes the world? Only the one who believes that Jesus is the Son of God …1st John 5.5

Here comes lines of cheer and wit
Grown from experiences, from the heart
A rule of success, everything perfect
An elixir of healing for all round health
A beacon to help a man become great
And a seasoning to give taste like salt
A pill to uplift the soul, body and spirit
A Divine arrangement for all on Earth
These lines are born of thought,
For this substance makes a man fly higher than the Kite
And to believe in it, one can reach the mountains heights.
It helps vision clearly even with fog falling on twilight
For those who saw the future, blue and bright
They believed though they never saw it yet!
They worked in Gods perfect design and path
For in so doing, God revealed His great might
And led them thru the dark tunnel to light
He provided their needs and made them give to others gifts
To them He gave to keep for the rainy day and to clothe
And now they believe in Jehovah Almighty for the best
For ye who desire this, grow this little seed called Faith!

The night came and went, but we are awake to Gods call
Though the night brought darkness and bricks of wall
To everyone, men and women, great or small
Yet the love of God wakes with us to perfect us all

Good morning from Africa!

Dear Diary…

When two hands merge, they stick together
Lending, caring, hoping and loving
The stream of cord bonding both
Strictly fight for their loves survival
Distractions sprout up the root of the creeping weed
Tearing apart the bond that once lived happily
I crave for some fresh air in the open
I love to meet new people,
I wish you do the same too
For if we wouldn’t work
Then we were never meant to be

But…
Can’t you see…
That we are two different people?
That without you I survived
And without me you lived?
But do you think this would work
When our ego and pride let us lose?

Don’t be scared to move…
The earth is full of people
And we haven’t met any yet
But if you might wait…
I give you no assurance
That I would come back to you

There was heavy wind, swooshing about
Just behind the hut where the pots lay
Now it surged. Paused, Sudden… Play
The wooden doors creak restlessly
Like horses surround’d by wild dogs
Near the bush, the wind whipp’d tree logs

The sweet fragrance of other houses came
The stench of the sewages woke up
And roofs flew off houses with no luck
Whistling pines started a quick rehearsal
Drawing to attention a memory of the wind
Waiting for the crescendo, the clan sang along

Stressed up, the plantain leaves dropped
The stars and moon took a fast flight
For the wind grew in power and might
Cats hidden under the dense garbage
Scrambled off for safety, the rats after them
All to seek refuge from the winds great storm

The clouds are pitch dark, cover’d entirely
By the grim hands of the warring wind
And to men and all, to bed she calmly bid
Drawing figures of stray sand upon the earth
Throwing ones garbage behind anothers backyard
And sweeping the town center, like a man gone mad

But the winds asunder most times are a lullaby
Yes, the sweet breezes that move about the house
Tickles everyone, man, woman, child, pet and mice
The heavy wind continue’d her joyful rage
And behind those huts where the pots lay
It went on and on. Paused and sudden… Play

There was a chief in the wild plains,
A warrior and a leader of the clan
He fought in the war of the White men
And returned a warrior of other lands

” Igwe! Igwe o!! Igwe i ga adigide!”*
The men of the clan always hailed him
For he desired peoples praise than honor
And that was only when he could smile
He walked on the head of the downtrodden
Rode on carts carried by human muscle
And thinks himself a god or a demon
For he drew on his face a traditional tattoo,
Painting a strange image from the Cashew.
The King feared him, the whole clan too
He walked about, other men’s wives to woo
The choicest of lands and fields he took

He recruited for himself thugs and local militia
To do his bidding and mask his evil deeds
Bearing some powers, he molested the Kings men
He had a strange stick which spewed fire
Yes- the firestick can throw a hefty man to his back
And tear away chunks of his body, piercing even the toughest
So no man dared stand on his way, no one could confront him

And one day he got the smartest insult of his life
He had forcefully snatched a parcel of land belonging to another
Feeling obsessively invincible, he and his hench men
In the evening, a crowd of young men had gathered
Before his small palace, disturbing his peace with noise
And making his hench men tremble with confusion
In no time the hench men had disappeared
Leaving the old man with his fire stick
He was angry that the crowd dared treat him as such
Also he was scared for he knew he must be wise now,
His life was hanging on a stone balance

Now he stood glaring at the shouting mob
With eyes ferociously burning like sulphur,
Angry that the crowd dared challenge him
Trying to curse the crowd with gestures…
When a shoe hit him on the face, sparking him off
In a rage of confusion, pain and ire…
He set a foot aside, raised his shot gun
And fired into the clouds, as the crowd dispersed
Snotting like a wounded wild pig, he strod back
Into his palace gates, cursing the runaway crowd
And never again will he underestimate the peoples will

Commentary.
Igwe, Igwei o, i gadigide: Long live the ruler!

Have you thought of the Cloud,
Of her dilemma with the Sun and Rain?
Why the rain fall heavily or faintly
Why it is gloomy and why it shines?

RAIN:
The wind fly mildly across the horizon
Up the skies, were the birds watch men
And the Sun with her warm heat shine
Sometimes the clouds would let it rain
And to a shelter everyone would run
To avoid the sudden strife from the rain

SUNSHINE:
But when the sun rises perfectly
She paints the land with a beautiful color
Throwing her golden light upon the darkness
And saving everyone from the lazy gloom
Even so, the weather calms when it shines
And men go about their activities unperturbed

Once upon a time…
It was a night of bitter cold
And snowy storms gathered,
The weight of snow lay thick
Upon tree leaves and branches
The slopes wore a sore face
For the ice cold winter air
Was so cruel to the night
The little lake was half frozen
And the ducks flew away
To vacations in other lands
The moon was quite bitten too
For she went pale with each burst
Of the ice cold wind
And the animals suffered frostbites

Several snow balls raced down
From the clouds, falling in circles
With the wind blowing them off
Swinging about like the dance of the flame
Upon a straight candle…
The Ice King stood motionless
Admiring the triangular Mountain
Which stood at the edge of the forest
Birds came to lack their songs and voices
For the moisture on their beaks was gone…
Gone with the freezing hands of the Night
The squirrels and hamsters stay huddled
Waiting for the morn, for the sun to rise
But the Night was way too young to go
So in mockery, she teased her inhabitants
The deer, the moose, the doves and the owl
No one was bold enough to walk the night
Even the trees on the forest wished for a citadel
It was severely cold; terribly, ferociously cold!
The wolf pack came bounding in from the hunt
Eyes red like the smoking sulphur, hungry and bent
Under the tree shed, just beneath the tree roots
The rats burrow, seeking the dark earth to warm up
Partially avoiding the new arrivals, the wolf pack
For they were rude and ruthless like the cold night
‘I wonder why the Night is at her worst tonight’
The leader of the wolf pack began with a sniff
‘See! I can’t even feel my fur, it is terribly sinister’
Another wolf called out to the hungry pack
‘Maybe the Night is heartbroken, can’t you see?’
The ferns that grow by the tree roots said
‘Or yet the Night is wooing the heartless Mountain
With her face turned to the east of the forest’
The turtle dove on the tree branch offered
‘I agree totally with you’ a dark Cricket quipped
‘Nonsense! I say she is confused, absolutely confused!
How can she ever love with such coldness?
How can she be heart broken and punish others with her pain?
I say she is a confused person, and so she is!’
The leader of the wolf pack suggested, angrily
‘As for me, it is not adequate enough to conclude why,
But pain and love can also cause persons to grow cold’
The philosophical woodpecker reasoned

The day ends with a big stress for David
But to him, this was not any challenge
As he walked thru the hamlet, near an inn,
‘Hello David! Come have a drink with men,
Come and have some fun , will ya?’
A soldier yelled as David passed by
‘Oh no sire, I will be late for dinner.
My brothers just came back
From the ranks for some family time
I better be going for night falls…’
The soldier grunted a good bye,
‘Alright, anyone seen this huge Philistine?
They say he has got two heads…!’
The soldier was talking with his colleagues
And Davids ears picked that up… two heads!
What manner of man will he be?
David shrugged, he wasnt meant to fear
David called out to his sheep, whistling softly
As they gather together, running towards home
Bleating joyfully over a full stomach of rye
On the door of the caravan…
David could hear his brothers voices talk
Happy memories flood fast back to him
And he quickly locked the barn doors
Patting his favorite sheep, as they nod
‘Halo there! Look at you, all grown!
Aww, is that a moustache, is that?’ Elihu said
‘Come here, little brother… Come have a sit’
The taciturn Abinadai said happily
David bowed before his brothers
And walked in, leaning his shepherd stick
Upon the wall by the window side
‘Tell me about your sheep and eh everything’
Elihu said, looking mockingly at David
‘Oh the sheep! They are awesome!
They are cute and absolutely pretty
I like most the feel of their grey tongues
When they lick off the grass from my palms
I have killed a hungry bear and scared off a lion
When I take the sheep grazing, the sun shine
Look brothers, I learnt the harp while at the fields
The smell of the grass in the early mornings, ah!
That I can not equally describe’ David rapped
The look of disgust fills his brothers faces
As they looked at each other over the table
‘Well I must commend your efforts David,
But we missed your absolute nonsense
Hope you become a man soon enough
And here is a toast to our little brother!’
So saying Elihu raised a mug of wine
And the brothers joined to drink to Davids health

Laying on the bed, David clutched his pillow
Looking thru the window towards the barn
Up the dark skies, as the moon shone
To where his humble sheep lay asleep
He dozed off, smiling at the thought of his sheep
Dreaming that one day he will care for his people, Israel
The same way God made him tend to his fathers sheep

This is for you my dearest…

There are twists and turns on the way
Hills and valleys
Darkness and light,
But love, true love surpasses any hindrance or fear

I do not dance very well,
I might not sing so well
But I can love you in many ways
We can ride the Lions back, we can do anything, Yes!

I stare upon your graceful looks
Upon the lips that pout before me
Wonders of natures benevolence
Have you imagined the dreams we can build together?

I shall make a fire for you in the cold,
And in words burn the world
In my minds eyes you shall live
In the evenings I shall read you my tales

Let us give our love to Nature
Grow also our love of God Almighty,
Tend flowers and plants in the yard
And assemble a variety of animal pets

Have you seen the sun rise?
I shall take you to the lands
Where the the golden wheat grow
And the climes where men watch the deer

I dream about you,
Though I discipline my mind
It strays back to your memories
Your smiles, your face, your sweetness

I will draw your name on the beach sands
And scare the white waters from washing it off
Let me make you see the wild Nature,
What we can be, just you and I

I care for you,
Fighting the world, my very self
Dragging the pen over my paper
Writing your name in pure ecstacy

Let me remind you of my love,
Never look down to the strength of this
For lo, I kill my pride and ego
And for loving you I do not understand why

At the end of it all
I want you to hold my pen, look in my eyes
Put down all we can do or be together and,
Never forget with me you can be unlimited

Lions could be cute and cuddly,
But only without their teeth and claws!

They prowl the thick vegetations of Africa
And plains of South Asia…
With their manes as crowns
They rule the African jungle
They roar from afar…
And all tenants of the wild;
Deer, Elephant, Boar, Zebra
Wake to listen!

In the night, they set all ablaze
With eyes blood-shot
And paws ready to pounce
On any stray person…
They rule with clench fists
Crushing every opposition
Tearing opponents, flesh bones
And blood…

Commentary:
I always loved this cat, and thought of having to tame one as a pet. Are they not cute? Maybe not, when they are hungry. August 10th happen to be the Worlds Lion Day, so join me celebrate this exotic creatures of God.

The ponds will go dry
As the rains slowly go,
And the clouds very shy
For she will have none to woo

When the rains go to other lands
She carries her entourage of wind,
Throw into childrens eyes fine sand
And leave a handsome wreck behind

The weather grows hot in the evenings
And in the early mornings, the cold bite,
The dew hung like smoke in the morning
On the village centers vales and heights

But when the heavy rains go
The people complain even more,
But why I do care though
I am glad the mosquitoes go too!

I wonder why it is called a tree
Yet she is dressed like a masquerade
With thorny arms raised to deliver a blow
And fins to wade thru a turbulent storm

Dangerous as she looks,
She is quietly harmless
Swerving from one wind to another
She enjoy the attention of the airs

When there is a heavy storm
She guides the little shrubs
When the sun shine bright
She takes also much heat

She stand, tall and fixated…
Breaking the wind surge
Wearing a grim apparition
One of piety and grace

She possesses queer tentacles
Which come as green leaves
Growing a shade of shadows
For every thing which seek refuge

The tree is both benevolent to man and wild
Dancing to the tune of both commanders
She gives her fruits as food and snack
And the leaves and barks are vegetables

So this person called the Palm
Is more than a tree.
In parts of lands below the Tropics
We can say she is part of the culture

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Bulie dikem!
Eze ndi eze niile
Chukwu nnam
Aka m di n’elu,
Chi oma m
Onye ike niile di n’aka
Unu kporo ya isi n’ala
Nani gi bu chi di ndu

Kedu ihe madu bu
Ma o buru na, ime ghi ya otu?
Anam enya gi ekele
Ndi Igbo kwenu, kelenu Chineke
N’ihi rue mgbe ebighebi, ka ebere ya di
Chukwu nnam ke amamihe
A gam eto gi, n’olu di iche iche
O ruru gi Eze eluigwe
Obi n’atom nini nini
O dighi onye di ka Chukwu
Onu m juru n’ekele
O gaghi ejum onu ikele gi
Gi mere ka ndu fodurum
Imeela

Commentary:
I have written this in Igbo language and below is the translation.

Title: Arise my Warrior: Psalms of Praise from Oke’ Iroegbu

Arise my warrior!
The king of Kings
God my father
My hands are up for You
My good God
The One who holds all power in His hands
Let the world bow before You
Only You are the Living God

What can a man be
If You didn’t make him so?
I give You the glory
Igbo people I salute you, Praise Jehovah
For His mercies endureth forever
God my father, the ever knowing
I worship You in different languages
You deserve it, King of Heaven
My heart rejoice, happily
No one like God
My mouth is full of praises
I can never be full of praising You
You that made me have life
Thank You

Learn Igbo language here.

”…Goodness and mercy shall follow me, all the days of my life and I shall dwell in the House of the Lord for ever and ever, amen.”

From the rising to the setting sun
Gods love endures forever and ever
In the warm summer or cold winter
And by His Grace we are winners!
Let the weak wake, the also the slumber
Give thanks, give thanks to Jehovah
His Love endures forever and ever

Give thanks to God, our Nissi,
Forever God is faithful to me
Join me reverence His majesty
For He has shown to me mercy
Grace and blessings follow me
The One Who gave my heart poetry

Today, August 8th is my birthday. I give glory to God for letting me behold another beautiful day. Recalling each year of growth, made possible only by GRACE I acknowledge Him. It is about Jehovahs mercies. Join me celebrate and by Gods Grace we shall carry on.

Bamboo, Oh Bamboo
Take a look at you!
You are very tall and mild
With stems, severely strong
And leaves straight and long

Bamboo, Oh Bamboo
The favorite Panda’s chew
You blossom upon the waterside
Spreading your branches like a canopy
Over everyone in the small community

Bamboo, Oh Bamboo
Your greens stay hidden in the dew
The men look to you as wild
Yet you become a source of food
And to many more a bunch of wood

Now I smile back to my paper smileys
Re-living my hopeful memories
Life sometimes may seem confusing,
But you just have to smile and live on
And on my books I draw for myself happy faces

The memories of pain or joy;
Are part of human existence
Why is there love and hate,
Why is there sugar and salt,
Why is there water and earth,
Why David and Goliath,
Why victory and defeat,
And why is life and death?

Help the people in your life
Expect nothing in return
Love, care, provide for people…
Let God use you to wipe tears
To be an angel to someone
Do not let go, this may be your gift
Be contented- look to the brighter side
For in doing this, you will find joy

I have realized that in my stay with self
That ideas filtered in more easily
And mercies and dreams grow bigger
There is a great power directing me,
Giving me the strength never to lose faith
The power of my loving God
I have never achieved this with the crowd

An elder friend once told me
‘Never belittle yourself to any man or woman’
Surely, my hopes rise when I do it all alone
‘People always want to eat their cake and have it
And as for love that comes in several bundles,
Do not let anyone play with your feelings…’

1.
The braids on your hair
Is typical of the African woman
Black and totally natural. Nicely fit
Pulling back your cheek bones
Into the hair…
Like a young gazelles face.
Your nose is like the fine basket
When you breath, it is a wonder
And it seems you walk on flowers

2.
When you dance, you smile
Showing white teeth, unspoiled
The teeth: straight and strong
And perfectly fits in
And when you love, it is real
You are black and beautiful
Bold and honorable…
You care, you dare, you are lover
A definition of Gods wonder

3.
When you pout and smile,
The reins of my heart horse drop,
You melt my heart with your laugh
Sometimes I want to run away
You wear beads of several twines
Swerving your body like the snake,
You dance, turning and laughing
And looking above your shoulder
To see if anyone watch; I am your admirer

The scent of travelling delights me
To lands I have been or haven’t seen
But it is more desiring to go somewhere,
Quiet, natural and homely-
Nothing compares to this ideology

The smell of gasoline and burnt tires
Is now my friendly companion
For the road has been a customer
And places my joyful partner
The cities pass by, the jungles too
The trees swoop by, waving a hearty bye
Same with the clouds, wearing sad faces
And the people who stand by the roadside
The city is probably cruel to all
But the journey, my journey continues
Through palm forests and swamplands
And the farmlands with scarecrows
I arrive at the countryside
To regain some pure air,
Safe from the noises of the township
Safer from the crowd that I loath
And the smoke from cars and cigars

I am free atleast…
Free from the city’s hustle

How I missed you beautiful city
The city that made me a man!
Oh, how lovely it is to walk your streets
Like Robin back from the gaols of France
But then the city wear a new look
Like a silver bracelet, shiny and comely
Upon the old things the new thrive
New Owerri and her cultured trees
And the people with their fine lives

The trees which I left as infants
Are now matured, bearing fruits
The roads are not so perfect,
The streets now bear gates
And men still scooped silt
From the waters that flowed east
There has been a tremendous growth
One unexplainable to me but cute
Strange architectural works of art
Here and there, they calmly litter,
The palms blossom by the city center
Overlooking the fast flowing river
See the lonely marble soldier
A sculpture depicting power
I missed the ever hot soup dinner
And the Hausa man who sold to me suya*
Now I am left to observe and wonder
For God has made here a blessed area

Commentary.
I lived in Owerri, capital of Imo State for a year when I did my Industrial Training with Diamondbank Nigeria PLC. Living without my family members taught me a lot about life, working professionally, chosing friends and managing my finances, time and self I came to realize I just became a man. Last week I was in Owerri, I could notice some changes which was actually sweet. I still love this city much…

Hausa: a tribe of Northern Nigeria.
Suya: delicious slices and pieces of meat, usually cow… grilled in the open air on sticks and meshed with onions, cabbages and grounded pepper.

I shall sing like the nightingale for you
Throwing flowers before your feet
And make for you a fine cuddly seat

Tonight I will stand behind the mango tree
And I shall call out to you, so we can meet;
So we can hold hands and walk to the square*

I shall tell you my favorite folklores and stories,
I shall tell you about the night and why the moon is half
And how she got herself eaten by the tall giraffe

Tonight I am going to tell you how I feel,
I will tell you all I have for long kept in me
And if you do that your laugh I will run away

There is a marrow of love I have for thee
I shall let you have it and let go of my wit
If you agree to play the strings of my joyful heart

Commentary.
Welcome to my birth month of August everyone. I will like to give a shout out to Lize Bard, she has been reading this blog as far back as I can remember. Thank you Lize and to all my followers, loving and liking my works even at my worst performances I say a big thank you. Have a blessed new month of August. I love you all.

Square: Village square, town centre.

The dark evening is serene and calm
Though the vampire bats hover up the skies
And the little crickets quiz all around…

Many sat for dinner for it was a long day
The farms, the ponds and the big market
The smell of dried cod soup pass thru the air,
It was a favorite among the villagers
And this smell always gave away people
For the village longthroats, a feast is imminent
But it is a pleasant smell, one I savor so much
Now and then, we hear someone yawn heavily
From nearby compounds, I assume it was out of tiredness
Sometimes the moon came out, sometimes it didn’t
When the moon came out, the children gather for moon-lit plays;
Hide and Seek, Sand games or a nice folk tale
To be told by the most elderly in the gathering

Soon the blast of a metal gong goes off
”Kookokoorokom… Koorokoorokom…!”
The hamlet retires to great silence
Crying babies stay put suddenly
For the masquerades of which Maama
Always spoke of has now appeared!
Even Maama was quiet, perhaps scared
For she also paid attention to the intruder
”The people of Amaigbo, the elders, the men
The women, the youth, the boys, the girls, everyone!
Listen, I have come oo… I have come again oo!”
The messenger will call out, loudly
Waking sleeping dogs and the heavy sleepers
With those words the messenger struck again
Mercilessly upon his metal gong, two more…
Then he settled into his long message…
Beating the metal gong on intervals,
It could be about the new yam festival
A special village or Kings service request
Cleaning of the nearby streams and rivulets
Or when a group of peoples attention is required

When the messenger exhausts his messages
He leaves quietly, hitting his gong noiselessly
Allowing the hamlet to go back to her life,
The women to return their attention to the soup
The men to continue sipping their palmwine
The boys and girls playing under the tree shed
And allowing the infants to resume their crying

Commentary.
This is a continuation of a poem I wrote some years ago. The messenger or town crier, as commonly called is an agent of the traditional society or kingdom. His role is to pass information across to the people, just like the duties of the modern day TeeVee or Radio.

KoKorokrom… A sound made by hitting the metal gong.
Amaigbo… An imagined place

Now the morning has come finally
After the stress of yesterdays rain
This hilly land wakes warily
Our pots are full of Heavens blessings

Sweet musings and fine sights are all about me
The bees, the green hills, the swans that fly away
The vast fields of flowers which crops the Lilies
And the blue skies where the pretty birds stray

There is mixed brown and ash dusts of the Earth
Where happy green plants and trees thrives joyfully
And the look of mother Nature which makes my heart melt,
I’m filled with abundant joy which Gods creatures give me

The undulating hills of my homeland
The clean, flowing streams of Ovim
The caves, the Palm and Cassava land
Always to me it comes to overwhelm

The rocks that stay in the bamboo forest
Overlooking a peaceful flowing stream
Once in a while a fruit plunges into the current
And little fishes scatter in queer confusion

The red mud all about makes all boring
The birds twitter and trade up the palm tree
The dews are thick in the early morning
The happy children swim on the small stream

There is silver fish in the ponds
And very brave children who hunt them
There is the grasscutter and edible toads
And green weeds on the little streams

When the hunters come home, all is alive
The hamlet comes to hear their strange tales
The dogs, the kids, the other men and their wives
Everyone has an ear for the stories they have to tell

The palmwine is healthy and very sweet
The trees on the farms swerve joyfully,
When the tapper comes cycling to the market
The flies follow his trail, as his wine drip slowly

The people are very awesome
Hardworkers, doing every little job
Women are pretty, men are handsome
They till the land and graze the sheep

Now the memories of my humble land
The fears, the faith; the stress, the strengths
A fine land dreamingly made from a wand
Such that it comes alive in my minds eyes

Commentary.
Ovim is my homeland. Located in Abia state of Nigeria, it is a quiet place but full of life. The natives are known for their exploits in both business Entreprise, academia, agriculture and military. Ovim harbors forests, hills, streams and ponds, vast farmlands of cassava and yams (staple food common in the area). It is a fine place. The wildlife here are mostly reptiles (boas, pythons, lizards, monitors, other snakes), wild pigs, rodents, monkeys and birds. But some wild animals like the Alligators, the Hyena and Civets have been reportedly sighted.

They call her the Peoples Elephant
Yet it sits sprawled like a mad man
Eating the debris of waste for nutrients
Driving the cattle mad so they scatter
Breaking the peoples will and mind
Into a million strange atoms
So that the Elephant is left in Ant pieces

The Sewages are dirty, messed up
The people carefree and callous
They care nothing for environmental safety
They care nothing for government properties
Like the wind they chose to fly away
Living in a personal country called Utopia
Dictating what and what not
And like a sea of worms consuming filth
The city had thrived…

The bulk of people who stay here
Live a two-faced life,
One of wealth, affluence and prosperity
Another of delusion and controversy
The mockery of the nation,
A shame to even the dwellers
A power tussle over the life of peoples
Once a pride, now a Vultures prey

Talents waste away, resources also
The principles we live for slowly simmer away
The industries close down everywhere
The roads are broken down badly
The power supply is highly epileptic
The schools lose that strict adherence of excellence
All we have now is a huge sick Elephant
Waiting to turn to a carcass
Or is there hope, now we still live?

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Commentary.
I am bitter about the continued darkness in this city of Abia State. Typical of African style leadership of abandonment, the leaders of the state has done very little to harness the potentials of this great state to its heights. Rather all they are interested is personal issues. A poem of bitterness, I must say.

Dear Diary…

It is very early morning
And I wake to go home
After a nice breakfast
Of Indomie and…
I ‘hijacked’ a ‘Took-took’
To take me to the park

Okay, it was very cold
Last night…
I warmed up with a sweater
But yet the Night was cruel
Now, it is quiet warm
Some nights, some cold…

I find my way…
Thru the rigorous ‘paths’
That lead me home
Sitting besides two girls
Who tell me they head
To the ancient city of Kano

Well, here I am…
Staring at passing trees
Trying to count as we sped
Watching the cars pass by
But the chats of passengers
Disturb my quiet peace…

The sun rose while I type this
What a spectacular beauty she is
The road is really rough,
The road is a representation
Of those who rule us I say…
Amidst peoples laughs and talks

Ehen, lest I forget
I plan another travel soon
Somewhere quiet and lonely
With me and myself
Every thing Nature can offer
To a bard…

When I pack next…
Where will I be going?
Thou shall hear from me soon

Commentary.
* Took Took: A nick for a small tricycle vehicle popularly used in India and West Africa. It is also called Keke in Nigeria. Maybe the name came from the noise made by the vehicles when they are on transit.

l feel your warmth Jehovah
The peace and comfort You gave
Now the sun shine thru my curtain
Strings of beautiful colors I see
Oh Jehovah, You are Awesome
The sky blue clouds stand at ease
You stand out, You are Handsome!

The love I feel, undescribable
The life I have, gracefully blessed
He loved me to love others
My voice, my warrior, my power
My strength, my icon, my Lord
My dream, my leader, my master
God my Supreme, Almighty God

For in You I see the beauty
Of all Your Creations
You are my dream and salvation
My inspiration, I am Abrahams seed
I am led to address You in African way
For people call me The Lords blessed
Ara na azu nwa, Chukwu di ebube

What if I had no color in my eyes,
What if I had no feet for my shoes?
What if… There are so many of them
But You, wouldn’t let me go that far
Your love made me absolute
And none can Your intentions mar
Your ways are mighty and astute

Good lands, valleys and hills
The rivers, skies and peoples
You cause me to behold;
I am forever grateful for Your love,
For the scentful flower and the bee,
For the morning dew with his suave,
And for a long but blessed week

Commentary.
Ara na azu nwa: Igbo language for ‘the breast that feeds a child’
Chukwu di ebube: My God is Glorious

Arise and shine
Arise and shine

This morning brings to us
Fresh dry airs, severely cold
With dew strong like smoke
Rushing thru the glass window
In a fresh bust of race,
To the green fields of meadow
Strange paintings the dew draw
Throwing up busts of free air
One of sweet vitality and life

Let the golden sun shine today
And light the paths of our ways

Breath in slowly…
Breath in Heavenly life
And let love rule always

When the night shroud falls across the land
The stars glitter like the tip of a witchs wand
The moon wakes to the tune of the crickets
And the people dress themselves into jackets

The windows creak with each push of the air
The mighty wind just came with her wares
To the dark clouds, a streak of lightning shine
And the tall Whistling Pines set to whine

On the rooftops, the vampire bats congregate
For any stray insect and rodent they quietly wait
The moon light gave her fluorescent light
While the surging wind swept the hamlet

The nights are like firecrackers
To the sweet dreams of a laborer
The sweet recall of the days work
Come back to one as in a snore

Once again, to the warm bed we will retire
To count glowing fire bugs of the quiet night,
And all those beings that litter the dark firmament
A time for some joyful carnival and amusement

1. My Music
The sweet tingling of the guitar strings
On my soft palms reminds me of a song
Which plays quietly in my heart
Without drums and strings they play
The songs call out to love
To memories which I adore
I will let this music play through the valleys
And the peak of highest mountains
Through the fields where yellow corn grow
And through the empty hallway
Believing you hear me someday

2. The Train
Nothing excites a countryside boy better
Than a steady long stream of the iron snake!
When it comes with its powerful grace,
The roadways shake and tremble greatly
With the tongues of various green grasses scrubbing
The sides of the iron snake, without drawing his attention
The goats bleat, the kids yell, men came to see
Though unperturbed with the movements about
The iron snake hoots out loud and clear warnings
Minding his business, he went on jogging by

3. August
Some holidays, some month!
Some dancing and some fun
The days are mild, so are the nights
The food warm and the fruits ripe
When it rains, the wet clay rejoice
And women gather to pick the ‘udala’*
Sweet fruit atimes but sour other times
The sun shine is beautiful,
It creates a bright atmosphere
One unrivaled just for August

4. WordPress
My days are joyful and hopeful
Full of sweet dreams and journeys
I discovered a pathway down the jungle
And threaded carefully thru the thorn
Wandering in the great unknown of the pen,
Wondering what might become of my pain
But nothing forth coming without a try
Now I answer why not, when they ask why?
And this dream won’t be complete without you
Yes I can fly high, I can soar higher with you

Commentary.
Udala fruit is a tropical fruit and well eaten in the southern parts of West Africa. The name udala perhaps is a native Igbo name. Thank you WordPress for this wonderful opportunity!

It has been long I left my village
And they must have felt my absence
For the moon still shone always
But then no one to tell the childrens tales
I missed seeing the grey bearded moon
I missed the serenity of the countryside
I missed seeing the birds circle the sky
And the calls of the wild when all is quiet
I missed friendly and homely smiles
I missed the wisdom the old folk gave me
And I missed walking thru the fields
Lonely and hopeful of seeing a wild animal
I missed eating smoke fish and melon balls
I missed feeling powerful for slaying a snake
In the farm and for demolishing loaves of garri…
Hmmm I missed it, mostly missed the quietness
Of the hamlet when all left for work or the farm
***
Now I went back for some rest
An escape from the city’s noise
Oh, I so hate the hustle bustle…
***
Nothing much changed…
Save from new growing trees
And old stubs halfcut from the middle
As usual the airs were welcoming
The evenings like a sweet paradise
And the people nothing new…
Save from new born babies
Suckling away at their mothers breast
Yelling wildly at slightest provocation
The trees have no fresh fruit
I have learnt I came when the harvest
Is done- well, I missed home so much
***
”Pay attention to this little tale
Of a land far far away…
Where stays a lake, quiet and calm
And on it, lived a duck and her family
Three ducks names- Daak, Deek and Duuk
They so much enjoyed the cool lake
The serenity which was unrivalled
In the whole land…
***
‘Quack quack Daak’ she began
Turning to the nearest duck
‘You have been friends
With the old grey Turtle
You know the Lakes’ waters
More than your siblings
But I pray, tell me
How many times would
Something happen to you
And you would learn?’
‘Quack quack mother
Sure I would learn, but only
When it happen, and all times!’
The first duck answered
Mother Duck nodded thoughtfully
And turned to the next duck
‘Quack quack Duuk, come closer
You are not scared of the weeds
You even fought off the black Eels
But tell me, my little brave one
How many times will you learn?’
‘Quack quack mother
But I can only learn If it happened to me’
Mother Duck nodded thoughtfully
And she turned to the last
‘Quack quack Little Deek
You are scared of all ripples
And the neighborhood fishes
You have made only few friends
I wonder, but let me know
How many times will you learn?’
‘Quack quack mother
I won’t learn from any misdids
I shall learn from others mistakes
I shall watch the Eels movements
And all crafty ripples upon the lake
That are not made by my kind
And I shall always be careful
For to survival, one must be cautious’

Commentary:
Well said Little Deek Duck! I guess but I think she is the wisest duck I ever saw in my life!
Sometimes, it is better to follow events with wits… Not falling victim/prey to what comes our way. learning from peoples past mistakes and not trying to repeat those. Being friendly and brave might not be enough to cushion challenges/problems/issues we face… We need to be cautious.

There are many colors, nice and cute
Dull and tiring, fainting and mute
Some fall by the bronze roadside
More on the greens of the field
The birds fly across the cerulean sky
With the jade hued beetle buzzing by,
On the empty dusty rocks words echo
And the ever warm and cuddly yellow-
The offshoot of the golden sun
Bring men, black or white to tan
The waters of the ocean wash the shores
But colorless are words that teach the lores
The skyline is charcoal black as night falls
The clays of the farmlands a dull sorrel
The color of a fine fish, silver
And the sweet honey a burnt sienna
The beautiful color of a cold bubbling Coca Cola
Poured out on a glass mug to create a wonder…

When we are ired we turn red
On our face and all about the head
When we get jealous or envy
Then we are said to hue green!
Now, we talk of blood and strife
When we mistakenly got cut by a knife
Or when the sons of men go crazy
And take up arms, strange and grey
We are loved when we share flowers
Amber, rose, turquoise and lavender
And what if I make a pick, one for me and you
What would you like best, an orange or an ultramarine blue?

Onyinye Chukwum!
The pearl that shines with the sun,
Your skin glitter like pretty diamonds
Upon the darkest of nights you shine
From the Earth to the heights of Heaven
Your thoughts come to me like fine wine!

The love we share knows no bound
It is like the harp and the players fingers
A pure harmony brought to Earth by God
Nothing puts the Almightys will asunder

The songs we share, like the fable
Like the folklore sang by country shepherds
On green fields it becomes lively and able
As the shepherd walks before the hungry herd

The dreams we share, gave me a new life
A compass, a direction and a pathway
With you by my side, I soar to new heights
Your love kept me alive and brighten my days!

The love we share, a beautiful testimony
I desire your quiet look, your simplicity
A dream come to pass for you and me
For now I realize you were for real

Translation.
Onyinye Chukwum! An Igbo exclamation meaning my gift from God!

The tears of dying children
Is the lullaby of gunships
The desert is smeared with
Grease, oil and human blood
The days turn to grieving nights
But the world knew no sanity
And those who fight in the fields
Humanity eludes,
Life is a little less than a chickens
And yet we walk free across the border
Where is this United Nations, eh?
Are we waiting for the fire
To torch the globe before we wake?

Aleppo and Damascus is on fire…
Jerusalem is not safe, so is Nice
We lack potable water in Africa
And thugs are fighting in the Sudan!
The blood wasted on the desert
Of Libya and everywhere cries out
No justice, the law has failed us
Give me peace, take your war horse
We cry to God, “Oh Lord help me, save me”
But we look to our neighbor with deceit
Each day men travel underworld
Without their will they forcefully go
Would there be an army waiting,
An army to rise from hate of love
When all human kind is gone finally?
What is the cost of ‘peaceful’ love
If the cost of a gun and oil barrel is dear?

The tentacles of terror spread
Everyday the world goes dark
Why we build war machines,
The glaciers melt somewhere
The deserts take our arable lands
The Earth goes blank with each day
Yet five powers kept watching

Will there be another day
To see another bomb explode?
When shall we be freed men?
Stop this Syrian war right now!

Saint-Ligoue Street

This was the idea born to me
Sometime, somewhere, August or May
The streams of thoughts come to me
The ones I may not all, say

I met a gardener down the road,
Gracefully adorned with a hat on a pinafore
Smiling, he sat on a wood log spreadagled
And I thought I met him somewhere before

Upon his face was a mix of different men
Hewn out of a stress of thousands of times
A thicket of nerve upon the facial line
And to a moustache burnt by strange climes

On his shaky hands he held a pitchfork
Letting his strength drain down the pole
“You see these hands, them work’d on the docks!”
He began as he beckoned me to a seat of wool

“I have seen the warlds greatest seeds
And the warlds best of weathers…”
He broke into a small laugh and grunted
“O yea, I have seen the Earth and her barders”

I sat down to think of it,
My mind telling me to relax into this
And listen to the fellows wit
Once I heard myself hiss

“Tell me sire, about the little growing seed”
I finally let my curiosity get the better of me
He looked at me, shrugged and loudly laughed
I smiled, though the reason for that I could not see

“Naw sit tight” he began after a deep breath
“The sammer times I go to the Seasides
Where the sun goes dawn to the Earths belt
And the walk on the sands of the shores mild

The birds; seagulls, pelicans and storks
Bathered the tranquility of the queer scenery
I faund myself, a tedious sun tanning wark
The turtles glide about the beach lazily

But I cared little less for the stray animals,
Drawing pictures on the wet sand I found a seed
Which I became fand of, and around it I made a stick wall
And all marnings I wake to attend to the weed

The warm nights grew to days
And days begat other nights
So my little seed came to wake!”
He nodded, shielding his eyes from the sunlight

“You see the golden sun over there son?
She woke all day to tan myself and the seed
For she took the seed as her own son,
Provided us with all the warmth we need

The seed grew not just for planting it
But for the love sown into every soil it lay
The beetles and weeds came to attack it
But I would let none of those spoil her

All about the soil I greatly kept,
And so is the seed of life and loving”
He smiled warmly, and allowed me feel it
“Only the seeds know the joy of growing”

I watch the sun shine thru my window
Throwing me a familiar wink
And painting the curtain gold
Thru the city streets the lights glow
Like the color of brew which men drink
On all faces it shone, young and old

Day breaks again in the city
My heart long for something else
My dreams point to my calling;
A wheat farm and its serenity,
A pride of Lions in their lairs
Queer birds of Africa wailing

My heart is giving to the wild
I loath the noises of the city
The hustle bustle of strange people.
The twittering of birds are mild
It defined the inspiration in me
I am part of Nature, a true example

Africa is a wonder, a haven
I am given to Gods beautiful creations
My friends are what Nature offer:
Tridax, Drumstick, Marigold, Kenya, Bean
The Leopard, Hippo, Gazelle, Zambia, Lion
Waterfalls, hills, safari, ponds, all that are to wonder

Nothing compareS to this dream,
Let’s go find another land
Let’s go see what the Lord has for us!
The morning is handsomely warm
And the sun is scanning the land
A good day to ride, if I had a horse!

And someday soon, I’ll be there

Awake to the morn,
Savoring the taste
Of a fresh minty day
Listening to birds call
And the feelings within

Awake to Heavens call,
A brand new song on my lips
And a gaze into the fields
As the tree leaves fall
With the burst of the wind
In fine danceful circles
The tree leaves descend

And I sing…
I sing in my heart
A joyful rendition-
My personal tradition
A special tune that soars high
To the Throne of the most High
I’m blessed
When the sun rise

Tap tap tap tap…
The first drops fall,
Look up, and see a battalion
Rushing down in haste
Scattering in multitudes,
Causing ‘chaos’ to the city
Splashing happily, joyfully
Upon all who dare stand before it

The night rains are nice
When they come with the wind-
With a very strong wind
It made my curtains dance mad,
Throwing up stray papers
And wooing my candlelight
Which drew a shadow on the wall…

Light are the rains upon the roof
Falling like a thousand little drumbeats
Smacking away, thoroughly the roofpans
Drawing nearer the sweet echos of sleep
Throwing rain drops on my window glass
And training the fatigued to acts of slumber

Like the Qasaqasa drums their beats fall
The rooftops tremble with those touches
Millions of them, hitting the roof tops
I am left to greatly wonder
Why the Rains drums are milder
The Winds feel on the skin softer,
Even as the raindrops fall and scatter
And throwing into our pots clean water
Straight from Heavens store house!