I read this excellent piece, and I fell in love with it. I should share it with you. This is from Nicole Coventry’s poetry book The Chaos of Letting Go.
I had mistaken you
For the sea
For sunshine
And soft sand
But you ended up
Being the hurricane
That destroyed me
As the golden day breaks,
It gave scented fog of hope
When the lovely sun of joy rise
So ina murna – I’m delighted,
When you look at me each morning
To share this unerring, loving smile
To admit that you love me like bread loves butter
Tree leaves dance when they fall, trembling quietly
Brown leaves, some dull in red and lighter green
All manoeuvre in the same direction of the wind
When bold leaves fall off the branches
They twist and sail through the wind
Some set up leisure, settling on the moist below
Sailing off, noiselessly to other stream banks
But those who fell on the ageless rocks
Clasped to the grasp of the fern
Idling patiently for the wind to free them
Tiny insects seeking nectar fly around the river greenery,
Slowly, the water finds its way through rocks
Rushing peacefully, polishing pebbles, shoving stray fish off
The air is icy cold, so is the beautiful waters of the stream
This dawning paints a modest, peaceful scenery,
One which waits quietly for the noisy bird cavalry
Evening lurks behind
Even as sunset float ahead,
It heralds the end of daylight
So we watch it go in installments,
We feel softer airs traverse
Drifting with pure grace
Upon our hair and coats
It gets darker; nature’s notice
We wonder what it meant
To follow orange twilights
As it glides down the horizon
Leaving all for evening
But the silhouette of love
The best of it we keep for us
Staring into your pretty eyes
Is my favorite sunset moment
This is folklore written a long time ago when I was a teenager. I still feel the mix of the honest voice of a boy who loves nature and a budding young writer, happy to engage his wits on imaginative adventures. This work wasn’t meant to be political in any way. But reflecting on it, I can, however, see atoms of politics in it. Well, it could just be another lullaby, tale or other kinds of entertainment for my readers.
While rereading it, I’ve grown an admiration for the wolf’s blunt character. He is of course, wild and most times ridiculous. Despite being a wolf, he had managed to trigger an idea that the government is responsible for all woe-happening. I don’t doubt him much. Please take a look at what is happening at present; it’s evident that stupid governments indeed ruin economies and the environment.
I’m amused at his speech about blaming the government for everything that happens – including imposing the monstrously cold weather on all. I only do not see any rationale to force everyone to accept his theories.
I’ve included some study questions. I’ll love to read your opinion.
Once upon a time
It was winter
And a night of bitter cold
The snow lay thick upon the ground
And upon the branches of the trees
Two Woodcutters made their way home
And when they came to the Mountain
She was hanging motionless in the air
For the Ice, King had kissed her
So cold was it that evening
That the animals and birds
Knew not what to make of it
‘Ugh!’ snarled the Wolf
As he limped through the brushwood
With his tail between his legs
‘This is utterly monstrous weather!
Why doesn’t the Government look to
it?’
‘Weet, weet, weet! Twittered the
crickets
‘The old Earth is dead
And she is laid out in her white shroud.’
‘The Earth is going to be married
And this is her bridal dress.’
The Turtle doves whispered
Their little pink feet were quite frostbitten
But they felt it was their duty
To say something romantic about the
situation
‘Nonsense’ the Wolf growled. ‘
I tell you it is all the fault
Of the Government
And if you don’t believe me
I shall eat you.’
The wolf had a thoroughly practical mind
‘Well, for my part.’
Said the philosophical Woodpecker
I don’t care about an atomic theory for
explanations
If a thing is so, it is so
And at present, it is cold.’
Notes: The poem is self-explanatory. Some weather conditions can be extreme, and fauns feel the cold as much as we humans do.
Study Questions:
1 Comment on the Figures of Speech used here.
2. Do you think that the Wolf’s comments were made out of ignorance and selfishness?
Your pretty face reminds me of the sun,
When she rose from the back of many hills
Dragging her gold blanket before farms
So if I am to paint this beautiful muse
I would imagine sunrise over wheat fields
And fast approaching evening when birds fly home
Love is a tiny seed that grows silently and evolves into a tree. It’s green leaves, and strong branches give succor to all that run to its shelter. It’s kind and compassionate.
Love knows no religion or tribe. It does not shame or get jealous. It dreams and, like birds, soar above all. It is humility and unselfishness – an umbrella that accepts all races and creeds.
Love brings hope and positivity. It may be the little green butterfly flying about the treetop. Her soft wings gladden the soul and bring happiness to the beholder. With the wind, it floats as the fragile cottonseed to faraway places.
Love tolerates and corrects; true love is unconditional and lives forever. It creates and reproduces. It respects and adores, and sees the best in everything. Love builds bridges and colors the world in peace.
Love is a story of perseverance and resiliency. It is a sunset over the African countryside, the beginning and the end of the day.
All life is capable of love. When one looks within, that’s the first call of love.
Memories fade, distanced more
Yet apart we wade, off
Tears are part of the roles
And distrust has become one too
Your words still cut through
I’m assured that love went wrong
I was rock but you made me gold
So I offer this little flower token
In appreciation to your absentia love
I always stand beautiful
Love made me wonderful
Let me lead you this way
I found thorns with honey just for you
Wishes I stroll you farther, for the intense of my instinct is all warming
While along, I was going to tell you,
But every passing sunrise, my words are rolled back to breathing you
My fume is reluctant, craving you as
oil
Just this path, Just this way
I’ll unravel my thoughts.
Good evening. Today I will share with you THREE COLOURS OF L♡VE poem.
In one’s lifetime one may experience only three kinds of love:
1. You love at a young age and let everything go down the drain because of stupid things
2. You fall in love and along the journey you get hurt, lied to and damaged
3. You fall in love without noticing, and you end up rising in it because of your joy and happiness
I hope you will enjoy reading the poem, if you experience any challenges as you are reading, I’m here to help out.
Enjoy the rest of your evening.
Thank You – Njabulo N.
You fall in love at a tender age,
Hoping to be loved much better tomorrow,
More than you were loved today and yesterday.
That blinds your eyes and mind,
Not noticing that you are growing apart,
Then you decide to call it quit over silly things.
Look at you now with so much regrets,
Written all over your skin and face,
Tears and heartbreak of a fragile human being.
You think that was not love.
It was love, a true one,
For what you know love to be.
It was not that deep like an ocean,
You were still young,
You were blinded by fairy tales and fantasies,
That happened in your head,
As you watched love performances.
Colour of love
You are not as hard as I had imagined you to be.
You fell in love,
You made yourself vulnerable and you got hurt,
I’m pretty sure you learnt your lesson,
You are now strong as a tortoise shell.
Fact that you passed all this,
Great pain, damage, lies and betrayal.
You have grown,
You know what you love about love,
You know what you don’t love about love.
Since you can’t read people’s mind,
You are now cautious, careful, closed and considerate,
Because you own a fragile loving heart.
This love taught you so many things,
Look at yourself,
You now know what you want and what you don’t.
The third colour of love,
Beware of the love that comes blindly,
Without any warming as it creeps on you silently.
This is the love that always get you,
You can paint the walls red,
But all that will be washed out.
Now you started to care about that person,
Without even trying to let it slide.
You don’t allow yourself to get lost in their eyes daily,
That is when you see beauty in their imperfections,
Not hiding even a single thing from them.
Look, you even want to get married to them,
Have a family together,
You thank the universe for them,
You just love them,
Without hiding your emotions
Tell me an amusing story
One that drives sorrows away
Laugh at me or with me
Sing a song, hum a slow lullaby
Pull my ears and call me names
Let’s ride on a train to Utopia
Grab my hands let’s elope
To fields wild as a writer’s mind
Call my name, bring me back to you
Hold my hands, tell me long stories
Distract me from a sick world
Remind me only of your love
I’m memories away from you
Yet you live just in my heart
I look up the skies to see your face,
And each star glitter with your smile
I’m left with memories of us, so blessed
It’s been 15 years already and I continue to miss your love and care. For DSc Nduka Iroegbu, my father.
Sun set slowly above the wood
Shadows appear, shepherd dreams;
Soft breeze upon evening tide,
Smell of sheep dung,
Slices of malted bread,
Songs from the wine inn,
Situated by the river bend,
Sober men drink their heart fill,
Silent hills, retreating birds,
Sally may sing her radio favourite,
Something to celebrate our countryside,
Scent of marigold and rose,
Sleepy sheep bleat gratefully,
Safe from roaming the land,
Some wish for morning already,
Sops and grapes grow wild,
Sheep love to nibble on those
Smiles bring back what are the shepherd’s;
Sweet darlings are his memories for the day
Hausa Language
A greater percentage of the population in Northern Nigeria speak Hausa language. I lived in Northern Nigeria for roughly a year. Looking back to those months, I will say it was eye-opening and fun. I learned some of the culture and traditions. I met great people and made friends who were ever willing and available to teach me the lingua franca. I was impressed with the language. In fact, my interest in it had made me to enjoy discussions when soft spoken lovers interact with it. When lovers address each other in Hausa it sounds romantic to me. It’s more like French when compared to other European languages (I do consider French the most romantic language).
This poem is to the memory of great friendships, particularly the ones I left behind in Northern Nigeria. Part of my soul still lives there.
Love, tolerance and respect is all we need to drive positive change in Nigeria and Africa.
1.
I’m happy to express this with pen
Ink fade but memories live it again
I believe in love and its many hues
And that life is good when love is true
You were once a dream to me
A dream that made me a beauty
2.
Now you are like fresh rose petals
Flourishing out the morning garden
When I watch you turn and dance
Your glittering sweat trickle down
Like sparkling wine upon glass
Loving you was a sweet experience
So here’s to celebrate this love
Ina son ki! And I meant I love you!
And also celebrate the moments
And joy you brought to my soul
*Ina son ki: Hausa language for I love you
If dreams are colourless
Then love is a magical dream
That teaches and encourages,
It trusts from the heart
Builds bridges over water
To bring worlds together
True love shared
Fear no colour or creed
I lay my head
On your shoulders
Let’s take this love to moments
Where all eyes see its beauty
Sing for me dear nightingale
Gather your host of voices
Rant through the early night
Tweet away joyfully from heart
Let my ears quiver from your song
Let frogs and crickets listen to it
To respond with their baritone
Sing for the sweet nectar
For red roses and hibiscus
And the traveling sunlight
Tell the stars your stories
And the wind the days you saw
Let me hear your voice sing for me,
To ring through quiet nights a lullaby
Faint voices speak,
Loud in my mind
I look in your eyes
It tells sweet stories
If I look away
It is to smile, in my heart
We live beautiful moments,
Laughter, peace, kindness,
Harmony, playful fights
And you, a perfect inspiration;
Pouting red lips
That reminds of cherries,
Hair dancing in the breeze
That spoke of dark nights,
Very light brown eyes
That talks of golden wheat,
Happy moments together;
Watching stars glitter
Singing away to hearts desire
Or the quiet gaze into sunset
Yes we dream together
Our beginning and end
Breathe again,
Like you have just gained yet another chance to live,
Life is not promised but experienced and lived.
I have grown to be a different person,
Different from normal people who do everything like everyone.
My life is not the same anymore,
I wonder why everyone is worried about it,
I no longer pay much attention,
To what the world brings or take,
I no longer pay much attention to the world ending,
I have seen it end for me countless times,
Going to my sleep with no hope left,
Then beginning again the next day.
I breathe again,
To see the darkness leave my life,
I feel like a small forest surviving off of a moon alone,
But I know that my light is extraordinary,
One that can light up the whole universe.
As I breathe again,
I have seen the world coming to an end,
My mind experiencing too many clashes,
Ideas, thoughts arguments, debates,
As my head goes in circles,
I can’t think straight no more.
As I breathe again,
I have lost trust, hope, love and respect,
I don’t believe in that anymore,
I broke the ocean in half to be somewhere,
Only to get there and I was alone,
Felt betrayed as my world crushed into so many pieces.
I lost a smile,
I find it hard to chin up,
As I bury my flower of innocence,
Because my world has shut down, crashed out yet again.
As I breathe again,
I even doubt that I still exist.
I even doubt that I have feelings.
I’m not the same being anymore,
I’m not the one you used to know before.
As I breathe again,
I learnt not to construct forever foundations,
On temporary people.
As I breathe again,
I doubt I will ever see tomorrow,
I don’t see any need of breathing again.
It is pleasant to sit in the green wood,
and to watch the Sun in his chariot of gold,
and the Moon in her chariot of pearl.
Sweet is the scent of the hawthorn,
and sweet are the bluebells that hide in the valleys
and the heather that blows on the hill.
Yet love may be better than life,
I ask can the heart of nature be compared to the heart of man?
Of all the magic in the world, none is more powerful than love.
…And that’s if we accept that any other thing qualify as magic.
Love is a driving force. It can change things; perceptions and imaginations. Great achievements are accomplished through it. Great writers wrote about it. It’s something beautiful to love. Imagine what the world will look like when we love genuinely. Show love today.
Love can be crazy
Yet I am amused
I try to figure the words
You pelt me with,
When we spoke of love
It was zenith of all, everything
Days and nights
It fell in and out
Maybe this was right,
I look farther away
Towards sunrise
A pint of love on my breast
And strong hope waiting…
To behold another beginning
So I let this patient heart beat
While it wait for you
Time will surely fade
But I will wait for your return
Wasn’t my love enough for you?
In my mind I had concluded that you loved only me,
I thought you were cut from a different cloth,
Like you were not the same like everyone I’ve met.
But clearly, I was lying to myself,
You loved everybody like a campaigning candidate.
I could tell from my basic instincts that the universe loved you also.
You were a loaded gun and I was just a boy,
Because of lust and envy,
They took you for granted, like you were a cheap toy.
Only if I had the courage of pulling the trigger,
I’d had shot you on your head just to blow out your weak brain.
With my mind and heart filled with only love,
I hadn’t imagined my head searching for love lost,
As the absence of love was playing on your mind.
You preferred games over love,
I had promised myself to love you eternally,
I had a feeling that you were exceptional,
Like you were totally different from the rest.
I discovered that I was bluffing,
Only lying to myself, feeding my mind with toxic waste.
You proved me that my love was not enough for you,
I never imagined that you were promiscuous.
You had me believing that I mattered the most,
Of course you were buying my heart.
Our love withered so fast, before the flowers I had on my hands.
It only lasted for just a moment and nothing was left for me,
It was clear that the light was about to reach the night.
My tender love lasted for just a moment,
A moment that cost me,
Had me doubting a lot around me,
I had lost trust on everything, everyone.
Nothing was left on me,
Nothing was left for me.
Love
As a growing Sunday School kid I learned a lot about love. Love can be defined when we explore it’s qualities or characteristics. Yet love is complex in every angle you chose to view it from. It is a mix of emotions, behaviours, and beliefs associated with strong feelings of affection, protectiveness, warmth, and respect for another person.
My dictionary offered some definitions about it:
What is love from a Poet’s view?
Poets have different opinions on love. Let’s hear what some has to say.
Lucky Johnson puts it beautifully thus: “Love is loving those that hate, visiting the lonely, catching those that fall, being selfless to the selfish, forgiving the unforgivable, helping the helpless, and travelling long for a short visit to someone in need of a hug.” Elseta Campbell says that love is selflessness. The courage to show care unconditionally. The ability to see the person first before seeing their faults. Love is maturity. Love is forgiveness and freedom from bitterness. Love encompasses the physical and tops in on the spiritual. Love is purity of heart. This is insightful. Kiid Kgothi has this to say, “Love is hurt and disappointments that always break your heart. Love is a dangerous thing that has the power to build a relationship and a lifetime of happiness together or it can make someone give up their life because their hearts never stopped bleeding”. For Sara Elizabeth, “love is a term used to describe the deep underlying affection that is always there regardless of how you feel on the surface. To be in love is to be in thrall with one another in a psychologically and yes sexually satisfying way. To fall in love over and over means that you mean so much to each other that you always come back around to that place where you are in thrall and experiencing the release of oxytocin that draws you into that person. To love is to nurture, grow and find contentment within the lives you share. Being in love is a cycle of thrall that diminishes and swells on the hormonic wave of nature and passion”. Maybe you will agree that Sara is being too scientific with her definition of love. Tebogo Mogashoa said that love is a mystery unsolved. For Saul Mendo, love is connection. Everyone is an individual but we need to come together, out of love. Tina Layne said “the indescribable and unfathomable dance of the spirit.”
Marachimso Ajuolachi Chimenka said that love is a feeling that occurs unnoticed. Eduardo Ibacache Rodriguez opined that love is the reason poetry exists at all. Siti Atie Atka says that love is a noun and verb. Masiye Theledi supports Siti in this view. For Ntombi Vutomi Monareng, love is putting someone’s needs before yours. Love is a doing word not a naming word, you can’t always say “I love you” without action. Lulama Mbonambi puts it thus: it is starting to feel like nothing than an idea which materializes into whatever I imagine it to be. Pity most of my imagination is influenced, but the beauty in it is the infinite possibility. Like everything else in life. Joe Hall has this to say about love: “If you can confine it accurately, it’s not love. If it can be manipulated, to conform to desires it’s not love. We’ve box love; categorized, villianized, sexualized, therorecallized, all purposes of love until the purest form of love is invisible humbly before us in innocence and humanity. Steve Rawlingson says, love is as real in a poet as it is in any other person, only the poet may describe it out a little better. For Chris Hiatt, love is just a word. It’s the feelings of those people close to you that the word invokes which defines our karma. Nikki Jauron says love is learning to turn your failures into flecks of gold. Michael Munroe shared his thought: I believe that for anyone, love is when you put something or someone else above yourself. Tamar Millernas said it depends on which poet. There are as many different kinds as there are poets. As for Hudson Roper, love is ambiguous, there are many different types of love e.g. The 4 or 5 Greek words for love.
Latoya Chinnery offered that love is something you can’t explain, because words are unable to define love. No words can give love enough justice that it requires. “Love stands firm in the face of adversity… It’s not something that revels and shine during the sunshine and hide during the rainfall.” For Santa Flaviapa, love is a feeling that is usually over-imagined and over-stressed. It contains so many elements of feelings and emotions that its most important ones are often overlooked, such as commitment, perseverance, caring and caring for, union of spirit and soul, longing and needing each other. Things like joy and happiness and desire may be present or not, but are not love. Honestly I loved this particular definition. The Dreamy Idealist said that, for poets, love is accessible to all form, all perspectives side by side, love is deep emotions, feelings, for someone. Poets imagine their love in a way that no one could ever see. Unity of soul and body do not describe love in its completeness, but probably love is that part which forgets everything in the world except the soul mate. Poets imagined their love and live their own way.
Featured Poetry
Josh Gold, (untitled)
Love is not that great
Love can love to hate
Love can hurt and cause tears
Love is an alcoholic and their beers
(With all fairness there are lots of good things about love, but I think people miss the fact that it’s more like desire than universal principal of goodness)
What is love to you?
There’s a symphony of joy,
See it roar up bright skies!
Emissaries of the aging day
Graceful flights over Africa!
*
It float above the countryside
Leaving to fresh, green fields,
Above those endless forests
Where hope still lived ahead
*
Each journey is to an unknown promise,
Somewhere between joy and pain
But fly they must: the fair geese
Up the blue clouds, a life only known to them
The breadth of earth lay wet
But the sun rise from the east,
From vague sights and mists
The dark jungles, hot and serene
Yet lions stride through the green
Fearing neither man or faun
A shriek up the skies…
Eagles soar high; many miles
Hopes high, they seeth thru’ times
The wind surfs wild oceans…
Whale’s horn blows far beyond
All tremble, sea-dwellers and stray crustaceans
Now if the skies were conquered by a bird,
And the jungle by a fearless king, crowned,
And the waters by a giant strongly revered
Then this little piece is written specially for you
To bring you a blessed combination of these virtues
This is a thank you poem for all my readers and followers. You guys are awesome. Let’s do more.
I stand by these rocks and hills, ancient
To enjoy again a beautiful moment of sunset
I’ve a new song to sing each time I behold the sun set
A song sang by my father and his father’s father
A song that echo through the hills,
Like smoke dispersing from mills,
Ancient like mud where palm trees grow
Cherished by all people who till and sow
A song enjoyed while treading this blessed path
One that my father and his father’s went
I am glad to sing for my hometown,
To make sense of everything around,
To dance alongside happy leaves of cassava
Or to admire the beautiful butterfly larva
When the skies are blue with her painting
I hear the sweet voice of evening wind sing,
With her multitude of insects, bugs,
Wailing infants and barking dogs
Happy palm wine tappers sing this song
When they wait on raw wine that trickle into kegs
Vast clouds sail across the horizon
From those heights they sing along
I watch while the blessed sun set
Down the hills that kept my path
Now familiar faces greet ndeewo
I’m ready to hear a good story or two
I stand by these rocks and hills, ancient
To enjoy again a beautiful moment of sunset
I just saw a beautiful sunset here in Ovim. Normally I would take an image. But it’s much better to experience this than to word it.
Grandma’s Cooking Stove
Grandma was a good cook. I always enjoyed her meals as a little boy. School holidays was fun for me as I had to travel home to her. She contributed immensely to those happy times. (God rest her soul.)
Whenever she made her delicious soup I usually sit by her traditional stove. I watch raging fire lick the wood. The metal stove is constructed in such a manner that there are spaces to plug in firewood and charcoal. I remember the way she worked expertly on her stove. Thrusting wood in and out, knowing when to pause, when to add more ash or charcoal and so on.
Well this little reflection is not just about my Grandma’s cooking but the lessons I got while I observed the burning wood in her stove.
Five woody brothers
Once I closely observed Grandma’s cooking method. She placed many little sticks and five strong firewood on the stove. When she lighted them the flame grew hot, gradually. It wasn’t long when the flame became fiery. I noticed that the five wood pieces had a stronger flame and whenever Grandma took out one or two to adjust her stove, the flames died down.
While reflecting on this, it dawned on me that unity is a powerful force. When the wood burned together they produced a huge flame but take them apart they can barely give much heat. I took home this lesson on the power of unity. We won’t make much progress while we are disunited. Unity is a powerful force indeed.
Just before moonshine
Three little mice ran,
Up the hills they went
Six pairs of legs fast,
Working tirelessly
Towards safe solitary,
Away from barn owls
And every lurking evil
Looking at the plum tree.
Seeing the dark bare,
Skeleton like branches,
Black against the dreary clouds.
Stripped by Winters cold,
Of its blanket of leaves.
The ashen, dingy clouds.
Are dripping raindrops.
This fine misty rainfall.
Is moved forwards by a,
Languid, lethargic breeze,
Coming strait from Antarctica.
This bitterly cold midwinter day.
But! You and I my love are,
Sitting together on the couch.
Our arms are around each other.
Bodies snuggled close.
In this warmly heated
Lounge room, in love.
You smile at me.
I smile at you.
No need for words.
Two happy contented people.
Very deeply in love.
Deeply in love
With you.
If winter comes can spring be far behind?
Without hope, patience is not worth a dime!
All that seems wise
has already been said
A hundred times.
Let it stand alone
Without the need of a guise.
Evaluate it then within the recesses of your own mind.
All thoughts need some context to be meaningful
And applicable to your own life.
No thought can be absolute.
Only Truth is.
But what is Truth, who has known?
Has it ever been, in words told?
