Red petals, green tan
Three singing hornets
And a happy, happy sun
Hovering above the scent
Marrying my words with yours is so good a hibiscus.
Scenting every phrase with juice
Red petals, green tan
Three singing hornets
And a happy, happy sun
Hovering above the scent
Marrying my words with yours is so good a hibiscus.
Scenting every phrase with juice
Autumn is a second spring when every leaf becomes a flower.
Poem: The Happy Wind
Greet the happy wind,
Tell him when I waved
My fingers got him bursted
When morning dew is upon the tree line
The sky is sometimes blue and grass is green
Far up the blue horizon the sun shine
Birds sing from the trees all morning
Yet the happy wind: timid and soft will bring
Her entourage to fly on their backs and wings
I open my curtains and window to feel and behold
The beautiful sight of trees, grass and happy wind
A perfect picture never to be imagined
Explaining the painting
This is the first in my paint-writing attempt. I like to paint and then write about the inspiration behind it. I’ve several imperfect drawings and paintings scattered here and there. Some are on the internet, some in the drawer, some under piles of books and others lost.
This is a painting of three palm trees under the hot sun, cloudy skies and strong wind. It may look like grasses on vases but on closer observation will reveal that it’s a view of the horizon. Initially I thought of featuring the Iroko as its greatness will play a better role on the little poem above. But the Iroko is perceived as a great tree and the king of trees in West Africa and it’s not common to see one. Three Iroko trees standing together will even be a bit of stretched imagination.
The bulk of work fell on determining the best layout for the skies. I’m sure no one can define perfectly any natural colour and infact those of the cloud. It will take more than human ingenuity or imagination to achieve that. So no painting can illustrate natural things exactly. Painters just assume. It might be sunny and the clouds blue, it might be rainy and it won’t. I made the passing clouds look like the skies by mixing two blue-based hues. But this is my own version of what the clouds look like.
What do you think? I’ll be doing more painting this weekend. It’s a beautiful morning here. Have a great weekend. ❤️💚
It’s Orie day here. Orie is a big market day in Isuikwuato. Everybody will be heading to the market to trade. People from different places buy and sell here. I walk through the quiet hills to get some fresh air and pick some flowers.
Thankfully I have the quiet road to myself. I also have imagined poems for these majestic hills and diverse flora. There’s a deep pond close by, it gave a sweet smell of dry clay mixed with water. I will pass. I am not a fan of ponds.
I have noticed new farms. I have seen several farmers till their fertile land. I helped tie up yams and process cassava. These past few days I have only eaten fresh vegetable and fruits grown here. I will seldom see fresh food in town.
This is one of the hills sheltering Umukwu Amune, Ovim. There are more just around the bend. This explains why it’s cold all morning and night. During noon time, the sun is hot. As I write, I sit under thick foliage to listen to different birds and draft down poems. Indeed nothing compares to quiet places. Stay tuned for more poems.
Now it rains heavily with thunder,
And with cold, her breezy messenger,
I watch the rain fall from my window,
Fast, soft drops crash into glass panes
This heavy rain ploughed, and sow,
Her lullabic seeds across my land,
Soft, sweet breezes reign with her
Battling a stranger for his umbrella,
In pitch darkness cover, so to mar
The path of this wary stranger
I pity but wait to see this little drama
While it rain heavily with thunder!
Image from http://www.erdaren.com
To you my feathery friend I write
In greying fields your fur I sight
Dangling by your sides are wings,
A tall neck, from which you may sing
Caw caw, caw caw are your favourite words
The wind is your friend, the soil your playground,
The shrub is home, to it you rest when weary,
Your legs are strong, your claws even deadly
Evenings are for your quick runaways
You send stray rodents scampering away
I am not ashamed of your beautiful bald head
But you my fluffy friend, you are an amazing bird
In the morning your scent fill the farmyard
You stand taller than scarecrows in our land
To have you here, beautiful and tall bird
Is a queer muse, but one of absolute good
I see light fell from the sky
On the wind I heard a sigh…Image @ChristurtleboyesStart a blog here.
Listen to Nature sing from waterfalls,
She thrash her garments upon rocks
And wash them with her soft palms
She sends soft waters crashing into the pool
Watching the blue skies as her fingers work
When the water descend they form
Fine curtains of white mist
As the water touch the pool below
It changes into bubbling green
Loose soil cling to Water lilies & Fern roots
Slowly falling water push crabs to their burrows
Echoing nature’s still song till evening
Here in the tropics,
Night falls suddenly
No long drawn out twilight
Sitting here surrounded by,
Darkness and blackness.
The only light shines from,
A street light glimmering,
Through the foliage,and
The Fireflies small dots.
Specks of light moving,
About seemingly floating,
In the torrid night air.
Moving according to the,
Whim of the insect.
The evening atmosphere is,
Hot and humid, oppresive,
After the days rainstorm.
Maybe I should go inside.
The bedroom is air conditioned.
My wife is in bed asleep.
But I decide to stay,
Foe a while longer.
The only sound is from,
The high pitched yap of,
Geckos racing along,
The walls and ceiling,
Chasing after insects.
Just can’t be bothered,
Moving from here yet.
In spite of the humidity.
The air is heavy ladened,
With the sweet scent of,
Jasmine flowering at night.
The heat saps ones strength.
Feeling weary and tired,
But moving is an effort.
Still,I don’t want to,
Stay out here all night.
It would be a sleepless night.
At least the bedroom is cool,
And I could sleep at last.
I dream of sailing with the sunset,
To listen while wild winds whistle,
And watch silver clouds gather over me
A greeting called from afar
The children ran out excited
As if the message was for them
But then who knows?
Heads up, listen attentively
Another beat rang out
Pushing the mild hit
Into the ears of the heaviest village sleeper
‘Oh how cute, it is one of the King’s messengers’
‘A tall and fine one for that matter’
A group of young women chatter
The morning of a market day
Even before the sun starts his journey
The gong goes before the man,
A metal gong tells the whole clan
The tidings of the hamlet
The days not to visit the rivulet
The day to farm the deep forest
And when a service the King request,
The boxing day, a vengeful day,
Of long brooms stalked away
Up the roof barns where fish smoke,
And the wielder showing teeth tobacco soiled
When the messenger comes
Mama will always say
To bright little ones
‘Listen attentively, listen with your ears
They might have a message for you or you,
From the King or the brave hunters
Come from across the seven hills
And seven rivers of Far Away Land
So you must listen attentively
There must be wisdom in every muttering’
Then each time it all comes to me
Even now I on my face keep beards
I still listen when all is quiet
Then in my mind goes Krookoko-kom-kom!
Krookokom… As in Onomatopoeia of sound made by gongs.
Stars sing your herald
Cold night, crickets quiz
In quietness I lay alone
African sunrise. What is more beautiful?
Have fun with life. Enjoy simple things.
I used to think I’m a rainmaker but there’s one heavy storm out there and I’m scared of it. A distraction for me though which I love. Recently, I worried so much about nothing. I wondered if the world will ever be the same again after Covid-19. But my faith will have no worry at all. So I’ll put that aside and try to mind the rain storm ravaging my community.
I know those noisy frogs will be happy and I hope the silly mosquitoes are washed away, far from this settlement. My neighbours whistling pines sing a high pitch tonight, the streets are flooded. I’m convinced reptiles will roam about.
I sit near to my window. I hear the storm roar and rooftops dance about. Usually sitting outside is fun but this evening rain is something else. I have had enough rain bath. Now I retire to watch the lightning battle with the wind and rain. Clouds rumble heavily, the lightning flash and then his cousin, thunder frighten me. It’s dark everywhere, so my curtain shows prints of their war. I’m amused.
Life is beautiful, life is sweet. I enjoy Divine Providence and what nature offer, the sweet spring water, the numerous fruits, wildlife, the annoying frog choir and watching babies smile at me.
As I publish this, the storm rage on, a combo of heavy black skies and monstrous wind. But my day is not yet over. Dinner is potatoes and beans. That’s my second love – good food. Gratitude is the best attitude. Good night everyone.
The mystic ocean laps gently on the golden shore
The azure sky
The golden sands
The aqua sea
And the green grassy bank on which I sit
Captivates my mind
Fills it with joy and peace
I hear the sound of a guitar playing
Softly in the distance
As I sit in the shade of the palms
The sea birds calling
The waves gently lapping
Soft breeze moving in the palms
My troubled mind is calmed
Such s serene and lovely setting
All is well in my world
All is well
So if you let me paint the world,
I would imagine the sunrise over wheat fields
And fast approaching evening when birds fly home
See Mother Nature’s art
See her paintings, black and white
Behold gift of the rising sun,
The wind a prize to be won
So fly pet of the blue clouds
… and friend of the wind
Break forth from your cocoon
Hit the silky walls wide open
Fly away, you pretty butterfly
Travel farther away, up the sky
Make the breeze your companion
And sweet freedom your own
Shoot into the blue clouds
With your energy and pride,
Up the mighty skies where you belong,
Spread your beautiful, creamy wings
Set sail for the unknown North
Fly, away and find your warmth
Draw the sun and paint your dreams
Believe in the little you do, hope for the best
Connect to your mind, live your dream!
Is it not a beautiful day? From our places of comfort and seclusion, I trust everyone can get at least a warm and beautiful view of nature, of trees swinging in strong winds, of bird cries across the skies, and sunshine over quiet country or town. I’ll love to share your experiences over a bottle of Coke after this scourge. By the way I’m writing from bed.
I remind myself that I’m human first each day. Today won’t be complete without seeing someone else smile and to give people reasons to see life from a lighter angle. It gives me joy to share my happiness with you. Know things will make sense soon by God’s Grace.
Even when I walk,
In deaths dark shadow,
And the sun is hidden,
From my sight.
When pestilence is near,
And people panic afraid.
Although fires rage.
Or the darkest night,
Has come upon me.
When illness nears,
And isolation is here,
With you, my beloved,
Close by my side.
I will not be afraid.
I will not be afraid.
Although the way,
Ahead is a mystery,
And changes happen.
I will not fear anything.
As long as you are near.
Your voice comforts me.
In my time of trouble.
Your touch is calming,
And my fears abate.
You are more precious,
Then all the gold to me.
Without you I’m nothing.
As I walk through the,
I will fear not.
For you are always with me.
For we are one.
We are one.
When the Moon Dies and the Wind Cries.
Oh! April what can you bring?
The final blow;death to Summer?
Even though it’s warm and dry.
I know that this warmth is false.
Ah! Fickle month filled with lies.
For this warmth means death.
Pretending that all is well.
But! Soon the icy coldness comes,
And Winter lurks in the shadows.
The dying leaves are testimony,
To your cruelness even the moon dies,
And the howling wind cries alas,alas.
The birds leave or shelter deeper,
In their nests,fluffing their feathers.
And so silently the end of joys.
Approach;But! this I know, surely,
Our love my dearest,my lover and wife.
Our love will flourish and burn,
Even more brightly,this Winter.
For true love cannot be put out,
By coldness or freezing rain.
Let the moon die and the wind cry,
Howling around the house outside.
For I know that with the Springtime,
Golden Wattles will bloom again,
And the lovers moon will be shining,
And our souls will rejoice once more.
For we are one forever.
The sun may hide for a while
But faith is our fortitude and citadel
Heaven’s tummy is rumbling! There’s some comfort from Heaven finally! It’s been hot since weekend, coupled with the Covid-19 issue, life has been solitary. Now it’s raining heavily outside! I’m seconds away from dancing in it but the lightning is frightening. I smell the wet dust. I’m sure mushrooms will visit tomorrow, haha. The breeze is flirting with my candle light and dancing with the curtains. The candle light draws a strange shadow over me. What a feeling! A joyful one, an escape from the heat.
This rain is a consolation and an answer to a prayer. Let’s see tomorrow. Good night.
I hear you whisper in the morning,
Waking to your tweet and joyful song,
Lonely morning, seeds spread to the rising sun,
Fields of tropical wheat sing with the mountain,
And with you, beautiful birds; choir made in Heaven
I like that I soak in the rain,
Catching water drops
That melt before my eyes
I play with Nature’s gifts,
Dancing with the wind,
My free, worthy friend!
Rejoicing when our pots fill
To embrace mother Nature’s bliss
Green and red leaves may fall
When spring sing from tree tops
And blue skies are her muse
Night is falling,
I wait on the stars
To tell a tale or two
Breezy nights are fun,
Soft air descend,
Caressing the happy curtains,
Flirting with the candle light
And casting a strange shadow
From the pool, the frog choir began
Preparing for their procession
Yet this night is very young
So I wait for the coming rain
And her wonderful lullabic songs
Focus and reflect.
#ilovesouthafrica #southafrica #thisissouthafrica #meetsouthafrica #lion #sunset #southafricanwildlife #wildlife #southafricansunset #travelsouthafrica
In Africa, some people are known to conjure rain. This piece is not occultic. I will explain more on rainmakers later.
Give me rain,
Let the wind rage again
Give me rain, dear Heaven!
Let it 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
Let the Heavens rumble loud
I summon the East winds
I knee before the passing clouds
I hear the aves call out
I summon the Wind from afar
And she quietly comes, alas!
She threw the mighty doors ajar
To wait for a great rain fall!
Clear clouds are darkened
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 weary
When the rain falls on this hamlet, hurriedly
My long candle lights become crimson with fury
When my light-grey curtains dance in sheer frenzy
So right now I am standing,
I stand under the falling rain
I chose to, for it is my special calling
And I thank Heaven for this blessing!
Swift breezes welcome me to my hometown
My mind is at rest, for the love felt around
Palm trees are sentries, termites their soldiers
Cherries and mangoes throw fruits, sweet as sugar
Swift breezes blow through our quiet neighbourhood
I stand under tree shades, with my hands raised
When tree leaves struggle all about breezy Ovim
To enjoy mild acquaintance: my forever home!
Your smiles are good therapy, they tickle my soul
It takes me to great heights of love and brings me joy
When you smile, you remind me of the rose flower,
The parting of your red lips, a memory to cherish
In your beautiful warm smile I find unspoken love,
It showed me untold and revered blessedness
And says much about you that I never knew
But in all, your smiles are exotic, healing to my eyes
Let us take a walk through the pine forest,
Under the cool shade which she provides,
Through the path where tree leaves form a cushion
And a place where squirrels make their abode
Let us walk pass the dark shrubs in the hot noon,
To feed our eyes on mother Nature’s wonders,
Through lands where green forests grow,
Through gardens of roses and the Jacaranda
And where streams flow fast towards the estuary
Let us take a walk through lands where men grow flowers
And when they blossom, they pick them for the ladies
And happy ladies dance for the love of men
Come let us take a walk through my mind’s eyes
Let us write a story of our own imaginations
And walk the path which no other human ever walked
Come let us give life to stories of lands far away
And lands where the sun rise with her golden might
To stroll through the fields called love
And drink of elixir which heals all pains
Let us take a walk through God’s word and humanity
Through sincerity and purpose, care and selflessness
To hope that jets drop cucumbers and not bombs!
Come let us take a walk through fields of wheat,
Let us gather the slow snails and slugs with a rake
To make fun of the things which stay around
And when the night come, to make our moments
Gladly warming ourselves on a fire out the fields
Home is where dance classes are unconventional, where meals are sumptuous and delicious no matter what. 😋
Home is cute smiles and beautiful memories and faces; green grasses and blue skies. 🙂
Home is happy hugs and pats, joyful and sometimes sad stories, when things change, we still end with it. 🤗
Home is a citadel of faith and hope and tears, joyful and sad; of flowers, handsome lilies and roses. 🌺
Home is in the heart. It’s family and friends, well wishers and all loved ones, here or abroad. 🏠
I arrived school with headache as I was stressed from doing many chores and sleeping less. I was a nanny, a mother, a father and a guardian, all put in one. Also, Jindu was sick and I nursed him.
When my mom took my sister to the hospital, I had to prepare Jindu’s meals and got him ready for school each morning. I made sure he had all his supplies, including his drugs and came home on time to stay with him. This made me not to hang out with friends as usual. I combined my hectic job with family chores and errands to and fro the hospital. My sister eventually died a week later, 6th February, 2020 (May God rest her soul).
The crux of the write up is on these two girls: Modesta and Favor, some of my best math students who noticed my unease and sadness when they came to my office. I wasn’t in the mood for chat so I just replied their greeting and tried to focus on my note. Normally, that was a clue for any student to leave me alone. But the girls left and returned later with a toddler from kindergarten. Excel, the toddler is fond of me and likes playing when she sees me. I was to her a playmate. When Excel made a face, I couldn’t help but laugh and we did play our hearts out. I felt the joy those students had seeing me laugh and I believe they must have seen the appreciation in my eyes when I smiled back at them.
I’m grateful for the caring and lovely people around me. Your prayers and comfort make me strong by the day. Thank you so much. I wish you all a great weekend.
Good night everyone.
Our relationship with family and friends, with our immediate environment and passion for others makes us human.
Michelle Basil is my guest this beautiful and sunny morning. This is her story.
Michelle believes that simple things in life matter. She is a lover of outdoors, sunshine and trees. Her favourite spot is Tungan Maje, the town she grew up in. Outspoken and bold, artistically and physically, Michelle takes us on how nature makes her fancy.
Michelle reveals that Tungan Maje means a market under the tree. Since her primary education days, Michelle had always wanted to know the first market that gave the village its name. She says she will find out soon and I hope she shares her findings with us.
The village is beautiful and is located in Gwagwalada Area Council of Abuja, Nigeria. Michelle notes that the people are industrious and that the village’s older folk look young.
‘Their youthful agility never leaves them.’ She recalls.
Michelle’s artistic images portrays her love for nature and outdoor reflection and games. She writes stories in her free time.
‘I can do this all day.’ She says. ‘Stay out with the greens and watch them smile, wondering most times if they ever feel the way we humans do and what if they do.’
Thank you Michelle! It’s nice to have you here.
There’s a song known only to a shepherd,
When evenings come and the sun light fade
He sits with his sheep in the barnyard
And plays the guitar through the early night
Hounds howl, but his lyrics reassures his flock
Stars gather across the sky to listen, he winks at them
And when he retires, he drifts away to happy dreams
I stand to listen to you, sounds of water,
When birds fly above the green shroud
And small fish glide in the green current
When the waterfall sing a proud song
Mother Nature sings and wash her garments on rocks,
Happy girls and boys wash and sang along
Pigeons, egrets, partridges and wild ducks
All swim or wade through the calm music
Sounds of water brings to all a merry feeling,
Blue and grey clouds may stay to listen too
And for the villagers, it’s a comforting song
One, proudly written and sung by Nature herself