Africa lifestyle Nature Pastoral Poetry

Come, Watch the sunset

Come, it’s sunset
Let us ride towards it
Hold my hands
Watch the sleepy clouds


Poetale:  The Traveler and the Witch’s lair

There came a traveler weak and weary, 
Fatigued with the heavy bag on his back
And many tiny stones inside his shoes
In his bag he carried a guitar for he could play well
He fainted slowly, clinging closely to his life, 
Hoping to see an inn or a well for water
For he had sang all the way and had his water exhausted

The evening was fast behind his heels with
Darkness; a vile and unpleasant creature 
Which found joy leading tired travelers astray
The clouds gather solemnly, the winds grew, 
Further away, the road beckoned to the man
Casting shadows of smoke rising from houses
But when he came to the bend, it was rocks, 
Huge rocks sitting all about the open field
Fueling the fears that the traveler’s heart held
In the growing darkness, he finally found a place
With his final strength he dragged himself to the door
A silent prayer left his breath as he leaned on the wall

Grasses stood at the doorway with patched gravel
And some quarried stones which lay littered about
He thought someone was counting, counting numbers, numbers… 

Suddenly the door flung open! 
Alas a miracle, he thought
A young lady looked out… 
She brought out an arm
Then a leg, then other parts
Of her body, in instalments
‘There will be a storm soon
The weather and night is here
And if the rain storm came
You won’t find your way home
Come in, have some warm tea… ‘
She soothingly offered the traveler 
Surely the emissary of the rain came
Followed by another, and many more
There was no time to think, 
So the traveler followed her in

In the night it rained heavily, so the roads were not seen
Pieces of grass, torn from plants squashed at the window
The house lamps glowed in the thick darkness
Rain drops battered the windows hard
Seeming to call out, to the weary traveler
Yelling his name, knocking at the glass windows
But the tea and lady’s beauty caught his fancy
The traveler reserved most of his trust to himself, 
He won’t let the lady steam some water for bath
And will not take the nut bread she offered too
Lying down at the window, he observed the open fields

From whence he came, he was glad he found a place

Lightning drew cracks across the wall, the cold made him shake

The fire licked the wood in the chimney and sleep worried him

No one could say though if the lullaby came from the rain beats

Or from the sugared tea cup offered by the lady, 

He thought he saw a fiery creature in one of those lightning flash

And decided to force himself to stay awake through the night

‘What’s the matter?’ The lady spoke finally

She must have perceived the travelers unease

‘I get fever in storms, rain storms, do you mind if I played my guitar for a while?’

‘I don’t mind, so far you won’t get me sleeping!’ the lady laughed hysterically

So the traveler pulled out his guitar and stroke the lines gently 

Closing his eyes he began to sing as his fingers worked mildly

He sang of the crazy fat frog which stole a pretty maidens voice

And the poor orphans who got lost in the Wild woods

He sang of the three cunny wolves up the rock cleavages

And the pain of traveling alone… 

As the rain’s cold grew, he sang the tale of love

Taking his time to romance his guitar chords 

Finding true words to fall in with the rhythm

And before he could raise his eye the lady was asleep

Snoring deeply and in her sleep she had dropped a knife

She held, hidden in her long dress

He played more and kept on until the morning 

But then as he woke the lady, she became worried 

Wondering why she slept and why the traveler was standing 

It wasn’t long, the traveler was on his way home.  


Cold Rain in Uyo

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

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


Clouds; Rain and Sunshine

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?

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

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


The Rainmakers Tale: Tradition

Give me some rain,
Take away the present situation
Let the wind bid me warn again
Give me rain, dear Heaven!

Let if flood the browned farmlands
Let it refresh the waters of the ponds
And the hards rocks upon the dry Earth
Let the hamlet be full of the wet clay salt

The Heavens will rumble
I summon the East winds
I knee before the passing clouds
I hear the aves call out loud

I summon thee Wind from afar
And She quietly comes binding alas
It throws the heavy mighty doors ajar
And what a rain that must fall, aa-hah!

The clear clouds are darkened
The firmaments are blackened
There is a powerful surge of wind,
To the East where it always stayed

On such evenings when all is weak and wiery
When the rain falls on this hamlet, hurriedly
My long candle lights become crimson with fury
As my light-grey curtains dance in sheer frenzy

So right now I am standing,
I stand beneath the falling rains
I chose to, for it is my special calling
And I thank Heaven for this blessing!


The Summers Tale

When summers come around
The flowers bloom, red, pink
The clouds are proud with mild sun
Joy gives hope, the bridges a link
The green fields grow
We see the farmers sow

The summer leaves, taking the hue
Blowing all a hearty kiss
As her cold monstrous nephew
Comes taking the once a bliss
The nights turn cruel
As we eat from a bowl

The white clouds wear a scorn
The trees still lay a friend
As the Earths whiteness is done
And hearts are torn and broken
The moon stays all night
But the morrow it was a blight

The hills covered with snow
The cold eats the flesh
Man and beast lay low
And strange concoctions meshed
A bird flies over the blue cloud
And a smile grows; proud

The Earth gets colder
Lost on her way home
She stays a stranger
Fearing all mans shouts and booms
Praying that a bird flew up the heights
To live solemnly up, up the skies


A Tale of the Lakeside

Once upon a quiet lakeside
Where blue skies stay
And very thick fog dwells
With tall Figs hiding in them
Hanging like towers
There’s a riot of colors
Down the valley
When the sun rays fall
On the forest below
All turns to gold
The clouds are not left behind
They shine gloriously
The water drops fall
Slowly from the waterfall
Washing the pebbles
As white waters rush in haste
And the solemn rocks
With green forests all beside it
Keeps watch in mute
There’s a rainbow up the sky
And a host of Egrets surfing the wind
The white mountains stand guard
With patches of green here and there
The winds blow the sweetest breezes
The bears growl all about
So beautiful, so charming
All about a quiet lakeside
And that’s Natures gift

Oiroegbu Halls


A Run In The Rain

Now the clouds are crying
The lines of silver show off
And the dark skies drain
Not a sight of the moon
Non of the stars either
Just me and Nature
The patterings bash on my head
On this night,
I was naked as I came
The rain drops beat me
In a soothing romance
The colds ate into my flesh
Shivers up in my bones

A home of my raging fury
A home of my boiling poetry

This joy of playing with Nature
The hope of another day
… Of another hope-full day
In the company of Nature herself
Feeling like a fish roaming
Searching the deeps of the Ocean floor
The rains wash me
All thru my body lines

The dreams I always want
The happiness I crave most

The knowledge I seek
Each day, from Nature
A humble character
Under the rain,
Or my whispering Pine
And the crickets on my room
Or yet a green soup


A Tale of the Wildwoods 2

There’s a land behind those hills
Covered in the forest
A green foliage; brushes and roots
All the time the Clouds are blue
And the king of the Forest
Do fall in love with it
When the cloud blushes
It rains softly; mildly
And the little creatures
Which live in the land
Look up to the smiling Forest king
‘Oh, see how handsome his face is’
A little dark Cricket said
‘He is really in love with the Cloud
But we don’t understand
Why she always refuses
To love the Forest king back!’
A group of Pigeons answered
‘I tell you that she is possessed
Who should resist the Forest king?’
The Wolf added, as he looked up
‘The Forest king hadn’t said anything yet
All he does is to stare and smile
How awfully awful!’
Some Pine trees whined
‘If for nothing but admiration
Is the reason to love
I choose not to love’
The philosophical Woodpecker concluded.

This is a part of the first poem written earlier on 5th August. Nice reading to you, and I hope you enjoy it.


By the Lakeside

Laying by the lakeside
On a mild and quiet evening
With the Tulips and Pansies waving
In sweet union with the Airs
And the kisses she gives the wetlands
A sudden drop on the waters
From the flowers that stood above the lake
And the enchanting forested woodland,
And the sweet smelling Rose bushes
A deer stands afar staring
Sniffing and nodding at the lake
The birds twitter calmly
Up on the high Fig forests

An evening ride across the quiet lake
On a blue painted boat
Watching a tiny fish glide
And the crabs move along lazily
With a grey turtle swimming majestically
And the Partridge calling out to its clan
Overlooking a blue sky, a cloud of silver
On a very solemn airy evening