August is a beautiful month and my month of birth. In seven days time I’ll be a year older. Have a beautiful month!
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Tag: Oke Iroegbu
Author’s opinion, editted by oiroegbu.com
Today Africa is slapped with Covid-19 vaccine testing because of her over dependence on the West for solutions to every challenge faced by the continent. African leaders deny their countries modern medical infrastructure like hospitals and adequate resources to support professionals to attain desired results and match what health practitioners are doing in other countries. In times of ill health, African leaders travel outside for treatment. This shows that they don’t trust their health practitioners and facilities. What do we then expect from corrupt leaders? Our nurses and doctors who are underpaid and owed salaries practice with inadequate facilities. The next option for them will be to leave the country in search for greener pastures. Irony is that some of them still treat these corrupt leaders in hospitals abroad. Covid-19 has proved to our leaders that the toad does not run in noon in vain. Something must be pursuing it.
Our leaders had shamed us and we make it clear that Africans are not lab rats for testing vaccines. The Covid-19 vaccine should be tested where the virus is at large and/or the origin. We Africans are ready to comply after the vaccine test is successful elsewhere.
West Indamakin
Activist/Artist
Ghana
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The Flock
Fonuoha:
I dreamt of a flock
How I’d watch them graze
But I’m always out of luck
Like a mirage my dreams erase
Oiroegbu:
For some of the flock are mirages
And their mirages, people in my life
Those who cast their nets before my bridges
And dream to reap where they sowed strife
Fonuoha:
How then do I reach them?
They are only but shadows
My weird thoughts I thus blame
I’ve lost faith in all those
Oiroegbu:
Well trouble not the strange past
In the queer struggle of life
One must learn to cost trust
And know that it must with time thrive
****
Commentary:
There are people who are in your life for what they get. Some are just monitoring and watching to see where your struggle will take you to. I collaborated with my brother and friend to capture this, in this piece. The flock will represent people who are in our life’s for the benefit they get and disappointments, mirages of how we must have expected much from the flock.
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The Ancestors by Oke Iroegbu #WPD2019
Boundless
Sailing in the wind like a stray newspaper
Casting shadows in the hearts of many
Now they called you spirits
Spirits of men who lived in ages past,
Evil, good, angry, indifferent
Spirits who gave and took
And could fall out with one
If you would not reverence it
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I’m coming home, with Deborah Nnagbo
1. Dn
I’m coming home,dear forgotten land.
For I’ve wandered so far away in the dungeon of life,
So far away I journeyed into the rusted past.
I picked pebbles of zeal and sealed my fears,
I traveled far from home searching for hope
Beside the faded branches of loss and pain
I was blinded by the deceptive smiles of the sons of men
And the alluring grimaces of pretentious souls
Now my heart yearns to return
2. Oi
When the stars shine, I know they come to show the way
Drawing my paths on the Earth that always held my legs
I set out,
I set out to meet you, traveling with the sun behind me
Casting the shadows of my past before me
I sing with delight, when your memories come to me
Even then, I make haste when I happen to think of you
When the days travel by, I sit to recall the Winds of memory
In her songs, I learn of my own joy of homecoming
3. Dn
Now,when the shadows of the unele trees,
Standing at the gate of hope can faintly be seen
And the unruly sun with terror pierce my calm eyes
I could only but imagine the distance of my home
The paths stretching to the lonely Eden.
My pride,my glory
My little chamber of joy
My heroic nest of aspirations
My world,my everything
4. Oi
Oh great land, my father land!
My land, which I left for long!
Ala oma! Aladinma!!
Your length and breadth beckon to me
You throw embraces to me through the wind
You whisper my name and I long for you
You paint the skies light blue when I travel to you
And when the great day ends I am almost at your doorstep
5. Dn
Yes! The tired roads of hope did bid me return.
The sun,the wind and the sturdy trees did whisper,
To my melancholy soul,sweet wordings of hope…
“There are still milk in the land,
Great treasurers still lies untouched”
There’s air for my choking heart to feed on.
My broken toes can be mended again.
And the long lost smile shall reappear,
Like the son of man on the 3rd day.
6. Oi
Oh great land, would you forget me now I have come?
Tell me what have happened since I went away?
What about the palm wine, can I still get a bowlful?
If the rains fall with the thunder and lightning,
Can we still run around and flirt with the cold rain?
The children will tell me what I have missed
The men will invite me to drink the local gin
And the girls will giggle when they see the boy from town
7. Dn
Tell the wind blowing mama’s wrapper apart to stop.
Tell that fierce sun to calm its temper,
For the prodigy has remembered.
The glory that litters in the garden,
The sweet aroma of passion.
And so shall I gather pieces of my broken parts.
I would craw,limp, walk,jump,run,and fly if need be.
For this world is no strangers paradise.
I’m coming home
8. Oi
And at last oh great land
I come home to thee
Basking in my own pride
Eating fruits which I see
Each morning I wake
The feeling will be new
And for your sake
I will make my love true
****
Commentary:
I have done a collabo with another poet friend of mine, Deborah Nnagbo. This would not be my first time hosting her here. She writes mildly and creatively. Her stanzas are signed Dn at each beginnings and mine signed Oi. We welcome your thoughts.
*
Unele trees: species of trees growing in the tropics. Unele perhaps is the native name
Ala oma, Aladinma: Igbo language for Great land, good and fertile land.
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The Pathway
Maybe I am lost, lost in the quiet Plantain forest
Following a trail of leaves, to a place where I know not
Maybe I am found, searching for my way to the top
Walking hopefully to a place where better tree ropes drop
*
Maybe the path led to the dreaded Crocodile river
Or to the farms that yield the guinea corn and cassava
But I see the birds twitter over my head, plummages of green
And I watch the monkeys dance, holding their babies as they grin
*
But to me I am walking, moving to a direction I know not
Brave, the tree leaves fall, in my strong faith I firmly trust
I dream of the land where the winds turn to perfect gold
Of me when I shall again return to my land, strong and bold
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The path to Harvest
Joy is the fruit blossomed in the heart of the farmer
His smiles are meshed with the days toil and sweat
Patches of brown earth possess a part of his tired face
On his shoulders he carries a huge basket with some tools
And now it is harvest time…
Now the fields are ripe, the mangoes are heavy with fruits
Birds sing from the tree tops, monkeys dance to their muse
Below the evergreen forest, the farmers find their way
Pathing thru thick mist and grass, old animal dung and dew
The morning was cool, once the path reached the stream side
The farmers stooped to have a handful taste of the waters
The taste is clayey, the scent like a patch of dust with water
The path lead the farmers into the deeper forests now
The shrubs become scanty, the trees more numerous
And all about dew sail off tree leaves, bouncing into balls
Thriving bird colonies, Natures own secret fine hive
The bamboo forest stood close by, taunting the farmers as they went
Waterfalls let water drops fall and bounce off rocks
Once they arrived the plantation, the work began
And with it, went with countryside music-
And when they sang, they sang of places, far far away
Where the wheat fields are yellow, the cow milk tasteful
They whistle songs and hum when they were tired of songs
At last, the harvest became a pile waiting to go home
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My muse: Rejoice
My heart rejoices, but why I can not say!
The sun has risen, the land is golden
The firmaments are bright, blue and grey
Dews melt, trees dance, flowers open
I rejoice for the lights which has come
For the love which I see all about me
For the little fine hamlet I call home
I rejoice for her numerous diversity
So today I dance to the rhythms in my head
In my absent privacy, I admire my hip hop
Desiring nothing but this feeling of good
Deep down me I change my dance steps
So today, I amuse myself with myself
I laugh at my stupidity and my bravery
I teach my wild spirit how to be herself
And teach my hands to tend to poetry
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The Shepherds Tale
Lonely stars filled the cloudy night
Crickets quizzed behind the rocks
But the lonely Shepherd stayed awake
Watching the glittering from the star light
Listening to the bleating of sheep, his lullabic songs
Sniffing wet and mild airs that came from the lake
He lays on his soft pillow of wool
Wrapping his arms about his slim self
And wandered off in a fine dream
…to a place where the skies are blue,
And the grasses, green, fine and straight
With flowers; red, pink, orange, cream
The morning welcomes a golden sunshine
The Shepherd prays, dines and leaves his tent
Through the hole in the barn door he tries to see,
Grinning at the sight of the sheep which was awoken
Quickly, he carefully descends into their midst
Waking the weak and nudging them lovingly
‘Wake, wake’ he calls out, the sheep knew his voice
And it came upon them, another day of feast had come
So in delight, the sheep bleat and head toward the forest
He picks one of his lambs, his favorite choice
Whistles, sighs and talks to the fine little lamb
Now when the day will go the Shepherd retires to rest
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Teach my Heart
Reach my hands
Help me stand firm
Draw me close to Your embrace
Let me see the beauty of Yout Love
Teach my heart
To do the needful
To slay not time in any way
But to master the seasons of wealth
Touch my words
That I may speak only wisdom
Let my lips heal, paint love, draw warmth to all
Let my speech dry the tears of the broken
Take my feet to places,
Where the sands are gold
That I may behold beautiful lands
And savor the strength of the young Cheetah
Give me strength, give me…
Trust me with Your power
That I may soar above the skies
Let me be what Your Love is
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First Words of P’Ville, SummerTown
When the Winter Witch got tired of the warmth
Which the fine golden sun brought
She decided to leave the sunny, pitiful city
And with her she took all her trinkets and jewellery
Then she would stare across the vast wild Oat fields
And all she saw was melting ice and she always sighed
In the quiet and early morning she was gone like the mist
Taking all her frost with her, everything even the least
Then it was time for the greens to blossom
The butterflies emerged from the silky worms
And the clouds wore a fairer apparition
Which came as a pair of joy and admiration
To all the inhabitants of this city called Summer
The tents are packed for resorts where the land is lower
And where the three rivers happily met
The land became wetter as the sun set
Summer was flowery, full of bees and butterflies
And derived her name from the abundant sun smiles
That roamed and romanced the whole land
But even in the quietness of the city’s idionsyncracies
Thru the pockets of farms and homes and hills and valleys
There exist some bugs and gnats and toads
Those who find it nice to be villains and rogues
But this is Summer, where there is a golden sun
And city of insects, here and there, stay or run…
To be continued…
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The Tree leaves fall
Permit me a sec before reading this piece.
I am pained to see the world destroy green life, I feel the grieve of these wonderful creatures, I feel even worse knowing I might not be able to save all the trees from the cruelty of my own kind. You all know that the trees are our best companion on Earth. Destroying them for some purposes, both reasonable and unreasonable can be our own undoing. These trees supply us with our very own air of vitality (oxygen), so please can we imagine a world without trees and say no to injustice meted on this fair companions of ours? I am taking this time to write this piece in dedication to all trees and green life, to all who see the need to protect trees and make efforts to save them.
Can you see the green leaves fall
When the tree logs fell,
Behind your window or right in your garden,
By the side of your garage or on the park nearby?
The leaves fall quietly from the trees
They fall solemnly, quietly
Swinging from a branch to another
Joyfully, weightlessly,
Not discerning why it had to fell
Not discerning the fault of the real world
But admiring the darkening world
And sharing in her downfall a tear
But a falling tree leaf never signify our downfall
But what will a million tree leaves look like
When they fall from the skies,
Happily admiring the dark Earth
Which we live, love and crave?
image from http://www.easyvectors.com
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A muse: Heavy evening rain
And now it rains with thunder
The hand of Cold had come for her asunder,
Come let us see the rains fall by the window
Let us dance in the rain and have fun while we can
Surely, the heavy rain has come to sow
And her many seeds are spread across the land
The sweet breezes that come with her
Battled the stranger for his umbrella
The darkness grew and tried to mar
The way and hope of this stranger
We sit to enjoy the drama
While the rains fall with thunder!
Image from http://www.erdaren.com
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Smiley
I like you to blow out laughing
Turn around and see me make a face
I like to see you smile
The pains in my heart go soothed away
I want to see the curves of your mouth
dance to the lyrics of my daydream
But call me names if you would
Call me the Pigeon and his one dark eye
Call me Napoleon of the ancient times
Call me the smiley
Which pops up before your face
In the middle of our chat
Call me anything
But I don’t care
For I want you to smile always
Because you got me
And a face which is like that of a smiley
Image from http://www.developersnippets.com
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Gather now… Come closer
Warm your hands, sit near the fire
It is a cold evening, is it?
Now pay attention to this poetale
I hope it helps warm you up
And trust it prepares you for a fine sleep
Once upon a time
In a land far away
Across seven rivers
And seven hills
Lived a clan of animals
Then there was no strife
No envy, no rivalry
Between the clan of animals
For then the strife held not
Cause there was no king
No ruler, no master of any sort
But animals who lived freely
Tilled their land as they wished
When they wanted to and so on
Then some stronger animals
Felt they could bully others
So many animals started trespassing
Some took others lands
Some marched on others crops
And some hijacked others wives
So, Anarchy decided to spread
Her blanket of no good
Upon the animal clan
Until the Cricket suggested
That all head homes should meet
To resolve this…
So during the meeting
Everybody sat down quietly
And waited for someone to talk
Mumblings filled the arena
Guilt of crimes wont let anyone speak
The mosquitoes, carefree buzzed aloud
‘Wait!’ the Cricket yelled
‘I greet you all’ he began politely
‘The way to solve this menace
Is to appoint a King who will rule us
Someone who will bring justice
And fairness to both big and small’
‘Nice idea’, his relatives called after him
‘Now I am the brain of the meeting
I should be allowed to nominate
My humble self as the King of the clan!’
‘What? Why?’ an angry Elephant trumpeted
‘You little thing, so minute, so irrelevant!
How dare you even think of that
When someone like me is here?
I should be the King undisputed!’
‘You all must be joking!’ laughed the Giraffe
‘How can you become the King
When you are just round like football
And can’t even move a leg higher?
No no no, it just doesn’t fit you
Well, take a look at me and my length
I interact with the moon
And when angry I ate her half!
I should be the King instead!’
The whole clan went dead with silence
They thought the Elephant would retaliate
So they waited for the worst to happen
But nothing happened…
‘Let me be the King’ the ape called out
‘None of you is so capable of tree climbing
And infact I can swing and dance up the skies
You don’t know this feeling of tree dwelling
The skies are my playground… Can’t you see?’
‘Talking about playground, you are out of it!’
The Eagle whined…
‘I live in mountain peaks
Where none of you can reach
Or dare reach and I am the master
Master of the blue clouds and wind
Make me your king!’
‘Talking about flying you are not alone in it’
A mosquito stood to talk
‘How many of you can sing in a human ear
And make him slap himself madly?’
‘No way, who speaks now?’ the Lion growled
‘The kingship belongs to I and the pride
The pride is strong and courageous
And can defend and take care of the clan
My roars frighten our enemies
My claws are fine killing machines!’
‘No sir, was it not one of your pride members
That slaughtered an innocent sheep the other day?
We can’t let you be our King’
Someone yelled from the crowd
‘So what do we do right now?’
Let us then nominate from those
Who showed interest in the position’
An elderly Parrot suggested
‘Please everyone should point at their candidate’
To the crowds surprise
Everyone pointed to their kith
The Giraffes to the Giraffes
The Apes to their kind
The Pride to the Lions
And so on…
And when no head way was made
Everyone nominated himself for Kingship
Since everyone was to be the King
They all left fighting and arguing
And so is the animal clan
In much confusion till this very day!
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”…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.
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Folk: One night, one story
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.
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My Love
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!
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Pastoral: The Shepherd
Aye, he stayed in the vast wild lands alone,
With only the bleating of sheep as his song
And smell of grass and dung as his perfumes
The singing of birds play him sweet hymns
And his friends and companions are mother Natures abundance
Under the trees, he sits to play a song for his wild acquiantance
The sheep listen to his strings, as he sang out loud and patiently waits
The brave ones lay on his foot and look upon the peace on his face
He is unperturbed by the roaring wild beasts
Nor by the treacherous wind that sift about
He smiles to each passing bee or stray wasp
Leaning on a tree, he retires to a little nap
Even in his songs he tells of the far quiet green lands at the bay
And dreamful sheep bleat and hope to get there some day
He laughs heartily, plays some more tunes
Singing of the fine Sycamore and the Prunes
The evening approached the vales shyly
And so the dark night came on swiftly
The shepherd looks up to the setting sun
And then calls out to the sheep all around
It was time to go home for rest
Along the way, he carried a young lamb upon his breast
The night came so fast and so was the walk around the hilly bend
Yet the cold nights has no mercy on them who took refuge in the open
Finally, the sheeps bleat a good night to their weary master
As he locks the barns entrance and prepares to retire
On his bed of wool, he tosses and turns hopefully
The day was long and he after the walk was weary
The night was full of common activities
The cats outside, the swooshing trees and the crickets
But a night of such, he must play on his long strings
And sing songs of lands where there are sweet green lands
With the sheep in the other barn, listening joyfully to the song
Hoping and longing to see this land the shepherd sang of
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When I am not making the rain fall
And flood the villagers huts and farms
And to make the river banks overflow
So that the forests pathway is swampy
And the great crocodiles are washed ashore;
Then I will be watching the glittering stars
And talking about the stars, the night and moon
Well, the night is never complete without a tale
For the sleepy little ones,
But this time, no reading from a book
I shall tell you of the Forest and her folks
… Oke- Iroegbu
(a)
Once when the Forests owned all the land
And the Forest King has loved the greens
For it spread, such that the white mountains
Were covered with green grasses and plants
The Wind truly loved the look on the Mountain
For during the Winter, she had grown terribly cold
That she felt absolutely nothing even for the Wind
Then she had no dimples, no smiles, no blushing
Then it was only the Tomato that blushed about
Tanners, farmers, pupeteers called out to her
And all she could was smile and blush deep red
The Ice King wooed the Mountain and usually
Gathered about her face to give her a warm kiss
But this never went down well with the cool Wind
Now that the Ice King has gone with his captains
And Summer has come, the Forests came with their greens
How awlful, the Wind felt all year round
Seemed he was just a big time born loser!
But the true logic being that the Mountain
Was never meant for this young Wind
(b)
Now it was the tradition that the young men
Cut wood in the neighboring green forests
Before they can be allowed to chose a maiden
There was no axes in the town and near hamlets
And men were desperate for things
Even when they are not ready and ripe for it
Mirtle was a young man, despised and frail
Naturally dull, but deep inside he was a man
The youth of the hamlet, saw him as a weakling
And infact unfit for this great competition
So he was abandoned, and the other men
Went deep into the hearts of the green forest
Looking for wood, for there was no axe then
Then came dwarves walking about the hamlet
Without food or warm clothing
And night came upon them daily
And they starve and want warmness
And no one cared or even looked at them
For the villagers loathed the dwarves
But not all of them were villains
The weak Mirtle might be weak physically
But he had compassion and love
And knew what it meant to be cold
Not from the treacherous night weather
But from the hatred that lurks in peoples hearts
Mirtle gave his food and warm cloths
To some of the dying dwarves
Sharing with them till he had none
One night, the Chief Dwarf presented a gift
And lo! An axe, not just ordinary
And so Mirtle had wood and a fair maid
For his kindness to strangers in need
I knew you got the message, I had imagined and made this story to teach about love and kindness. Abraham entertained angels without knowing it.
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Musing: Stare into my eyes
1.
I love to stare into your eyes
To let you know how special you are
I heave a sigh of relieve
Each time, tears of grieve
Dry from your pretty face
Never let go of sweet memories
Make them stay in your bossom
Enjoy all blossoming Summers
And the ice-cold Winters
But never let it fade away
Our moments, golden and sweet
Like the fast current of the spring
Leaping in joyful bounds;
Bouncing crystals of water
Rejoicing with their flowy brethren
Down to the end, where the waters fall
I see the glitter on your face
When the sun shine upon it
The stars light the dark clouds
You count the brighter ones first;
And the weak ones follow
When it rains and shines
It is a blessing, you are a blessing
2.
You are my addiction
You are my God sent
You are my little song
Which sings in my heart
You play my hearts harps
You drown me in your love
The walls have ears indeed
They listen to our own tale
Your breath falls on me like
The sounds of the waterfalls
Gracefully you stride like the Cheetah
My eyes haven’t beheld anything better
And what more do I desire
But you that I lovely admire?
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Wanderer by Obiajulu Nwodo
Wander-man, Tiger-man moves; sipping from different fountains overflowing with milk of life and death
He hops;
From Jagua Nana to
Annan Wanger
Never satisfied with his own wife and life
Hannah
Who
Kisses empty sheets
Droops and sags in
Jeans
Eating Bullshit
Wander-man, Bat-man
Fly!
While Hannah cries
High five!
Wine!
While Hannah dies
You tell her lies to cover up your crimes
Why?
Away with it wander-heart!
Retire so your palm won’t catch fire.
Obiajulu Nwodo is a versifier and a short story writer. Some of her works has been published in different platforms. She has some unpublished works to her credit and she is a good friend of mine.
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(1.)
Hail the sun rises!
Down from the hidden hills
And up to the white clouds
The rains has come upon us
And Mother Natures romance has begun
(2.)
I am a rainmaker
For the days are stuffy and hot
And to the cold rains we must go
I am a painter
For each morning my mind is awoken
To the wonderful hues before me
I am a farmer
For my passion for the Wild
Can’t be imagined or measured
I am a singer
For I sing songs in my heart
And when the Wind sings, I with her
I am a tale teller
For these stories are mild
And in the night, a lullaby it is
I am a poet
For each day turn to nights
And I realise that the pen has got a might
I am a lover
For nothing else spoils the world
But uncontrolled love…
I am Okechukwu Iroegbu
A common man of many deeds
But to Jehovah I owe it all
(3.)
The sun sets before my eyes,
Night throws her veil on earth
The breezes travel south
And on their pathways
They play lyrics of sooth
And within, without
I see how lucky I am
To have your unfailing love
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Yesu, my love
”The sweet fragrances of the morning
Has come to my nose and face
Yesu masoyina, You made this possible!
Even when I lay like a log of wood
You came to wake my slumber Lord…”
Now the mornings has come
It is still dark but very warm
With the morning, Divine providence
I hear the sound of twittering birds
I smell the airs of the dry earth
As the dusts suck the last rains moist
The wind is full of soothing comfort
I feel Your blessed and everlasting support
For the peace which You gave my soul
And also, the blessed cravings of my soul,
The beautiful faces and light I see
And the sweet dreams You gave me
I look up to You always, my Provider
My God, my lover and my Jehovah
And through all I do, You are my direction
For You are my sure source of inspiration
I can’t reverence You enough Father
I wake strong to say, na’gode Allah!
Note:
Na’gode Allah… Thank You God
Yesu, masoyina… Hausa language for Jesus, my love
Hausa is a northern Nigerian tribe whose cultural influences spread into Niger republic and some West African countries.
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Oke’s Poetale: The Duck Tale
Once upon a blue quiet lake
Beside a green florishing forest
Lived a Duck and her chicks
All day they waddle about
Enjoying the peaceful serenity
But a day came and the Duck
Brought her chicks all around her
‘Quack quack Daak’ she began
Turning to the nearest chick
‘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, there is no friend’
Commentary:
Well said Little Deek Duck! You would say with me, 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…
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Wake me up
Wake me up
With your tears
Of love and care
Let my consciousness comfort you
Wake me up
To plough the fields
To gather wheats
And see your smiles
Wake me up
Even when I’m strengthless
To feel the airs
Come from the mountain
Wake me up
Draw back the curtains
Let the Golden Sun
Come shining into the room
Wake me up
To tell the world
About your love
And how it changed me
Wake me up
To the falling rains
To Heavenly desires
To Gods sweet grace
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The Waterside
…by the Waterside
See the waters queer like a green tea
Flowing quietly in the dry season
The haste of waters upon the rocks
As the tides airs treat the trees
And all lively nature around it
Even in the quietness of the stream
A sort of hush and joyful sigh is heard
A soft romance of mother Nature
Between the bold rocks and the waters
And the mild air and the nearby trees
Near a steep the waters fall happily
Throwing up crystals, very white
And to the setting Suns warm heat
The falling crystals throw kisses
As the birds fly away-
Heading home to their nests
When the blue clouds grow dim
And all hue leave the Earth
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Festive Season
In the mornings and evening
And as the sun rises each day
Comes the joy of the festive season
On the roadsides the dry grasses lay
Waiting to be gathered and burned
So the flames can dance happily
To meet the sky, his sweet bride
And the fest ends as the soot falls solemnly
But then the kids play soccer in the fields
The dusts of the Harmattan sift about
Noise of home coming is heard all around
The hot day drives all crazy; man, monkeys and moth
As the sun prepares to set
The horizon turns gold
As the clouds move up the firmaments
And as women gather wood
For the coming darkness
Such as then, a happy extended family gathering
Sitting around the fireplace
With the queer scent of burnt grasses smelling
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The Leopard Man
Once, deep in the heart of the hamlet
A terror strikes in the dead of the night
Tears, blood trails and fresh paw marks
After the moon light, come a deep roar
From the forests that live with the hamlet
A terror descends upon the quietness
Two small balls of light ravage the village
In the pitch darkness of a moonless night
Scaling the thatch fencing and in a “Maah!”
Huge goats and cattle get missing
The dogs bark angrily and fearfully
They can only bark, the beast believed
A snarl, and the dog park scatter out
And in the morning people go about
Counting the loss and growing goose pimples
And staring at the disturbed garden plants
At the back yards of unfortunate victims
The children hide behind their parents
Trying to fit their foot to the paw marks
The dogs sit like bewitched hounds
Staring at the mess the visitor brought
Back in the deepest forests of forests
The deadly beast of the night prowls
Under the bushes that are made dark
By the trees that shield the forest
Waiting for an instruction, a guide
The evil that men learn, strange cruelty
The spirits of men transfered to a beast
And in such grim circumstance,
There is no mercy, no pity
There is no fear of man or attitude
For once the spirit of a man
Is transfered to a beast
A havoc unknown to time is born
Commentary
It has been known that in ancient times, some people are capable of turning to wild animals like the hyena, leopard, lions and snakes to attack or take revenge on other people. When two occultic families engage in a dispute, most times they settle with such a fight, one turning to a wild animal to attack another. Also, these people are a cabal of “medicine men” that can conjure spirits of men into an animal, thereby allowing the animal to act on behalf of the man. If the animal is wounded or shot it affects the man whose spirit it carries. To read more about this you might like to read The Bottled Leopard by Ike Chukwuemeka, a heart touching and fascinating story of a young boy whose spirit was tied to a leopard without the knowledge of their family and his pains, adventures and his ordeal in the new school he happened to be admitted to.
The poet tries to paint a picture of such an atmosphere. This poem is by no means occultic. It is purely my imagination.
Oke- Iroegbu
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Musing: Sun Rising in Africa
When the sun rises upon the quiet hamlet
There is joy, there are smiles and laughter
The curtains are thrown open for light
The golden rays of the sun swing in
Hopes are high, answers to prayers come
The children roll out their bicycles
As their dogs follow them, fast
The little ones stay behind, to watch the fun
The girls file in a line to the stream
Talking about the previous night
And how great the melon harvest was
The boys march through the forest
To check their hidden traps
And hoping to kill a wild cattle one day
The women pound yams; make soup
Giving the hamlet a new decent smell
And from the hills, one can tell what meal that waits
The men gather about in the town center
Deliberating on a fresh and virgin farmland
And the new bridge proposed for the river
Trees swoosh about like a choirs swerving
The noise of joy is full and all about
And the tree leaves fall solemnly with the wind
The clouds blue, new and fresh
Let the sun turn all hue bright
Painting a beautiful image of the hamlet
As it falls on the huts by the roadside
Making those lively, painting them gold
And drawing wonder to all living things
The mamba and the boas come to the pathways
Scaring many, but joining the sun funfare
The monkeys play on the tree branches
The cries of the hawks up the skies
And the smaller birds making nest
Outside the hamlet are heard
The winds are not left out
They sing aloud, to the hamlets hearing
They conjure the spirits of the Whistling Pine
And as the warm friendly sun rises quietly
Smiling , it brings good tidings to all
Bugs, ants, faun and flora, man and woman
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My Sunshine
I call you sunshine in the morning
Because when the golden sun rises
Thoughts of you come to me
Like clouds gathering to give the rain
Throw the curtains open
Watch the sunshine filter in
Thro the windows, painting gold
Upon all it touches as it wakes
Now there is no star in the morning
But the lonesome golden sun
That brings warmth and heat to us
Taking the moist off the Earth
The ripening of the grape and wheat
Thro special effort, come from the sun
Blesses the land with abundance
Giving hue to the wild darkness
Sunshine, a growing mass of heat
When you rise up the horizons
The wild comes to take some warmth
Scuttling serpents, straying reptiles
And after the cold dreamy night
You come upon the Earths surface
With your grace and power
Giving hope to all that desire it
But I call you my sunshine
For you bring to me joy
Staying as the rising summer sun
To travel back only in the evening
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A tale of a Bard, at first
There was a land far, far away
Told to have been located by the bay
The day wake with good tidings and bird twittering
The wings of the Falcon flap above the hidden squirrels
The skies clear with print of dark blue
One of grace and light bright hue
The trees tall as the mountain tops
With leaves, succulent and fresh
The airs are full of misty perfumes
With elves hovering in the quietness
And hogs munching away at the young trees
The fairies guide the Crystal stones
The ancient gems so strongly kept
A young deer marched about
Confused on the smell calmly simmering about the air
The Southern wind full of elements
Made to keep the woodlands, villain and the fair…
to be continued
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A Poets Tale
Have you seen the sun set over the dark clouds
Behind the lonely traveller marching up the hilly mounds?
The evening sets in, covering all the light living on Earth
It was about time for, moon-lit tales and screeching crickets
The wind surge, we are left to feel it
The birds fly away, as the sun set
The clouds are dark, beckoning to a storm
And the people haste about bringing all the drums
The hopes live on, the days gone past,
I sit musing, letting reason come over wit
Like Ali Baba calling out to his forty men
The love I have for you I feel deep within
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Angels
It becomes heavily cloudy
The Lord lets it rain
On the bosom of the rich and poor
The suns ray beat us all this while
Scorching she is, but our vegetables grow
In the heat of sleepless nights
The Nights calm airs come upon us
They give the warmth we desire
Sometimes the cripple on the road
Waves to the passing crowd, crying
“Please feed me sire, feed me ma-am”
Faces reddened on the Suns ire
The drops of tears and sweat, costless
The child barefooted, left alone,
Lost to the race ran by the world
Desiring a little comfort someday
Caught up in pain; raped, maimed
The old woman without her sight
Sitting under a huge baobab
Waiting for direction or hope?
Leaving her fate to the worlds vanity
The tears of infants brought to this world
Without a glimpse of what it shall be
To live on this world full of abandon
The end of love here proven always
Oh blessed Father Abraham!
Sometimes angels thread our pathways
And we do not know of it
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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
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Oh I am in love
Your grapes gave me wine
Your love gave me life
It is at your table I dine
I stand at the foot of a hill
Watching the setting sun
Near the busy oil palm mill
I see women, their quarry burn
The road to the stream
Are littered with fallen leaves
A young fish pleasantly swim
In rehearsed circles it weaves
A group of rocks stand before me
Sweet how the nearby flowers smell
To see the long hidden treasuries
Of all luxurious flora, the Rose, Honeywell
Have you seen the sun rise
From a grassland near a cliff?
Do you think Nature is wise?
Can you then tell me who I love?
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The Old Man and The Bulb
I met an old man
Walking down the lane
Passing thru the barn
With a face, bold and stern
He dropped his stick
And I watched him stoop
His body rattled, weak
And down the steps, I took a hop
“Hello sire, lemme help you”
He looked up, a bright smile
“Oh, goodness, my son, bless you
i had been on the road for miles!”
The evening was cold
A storm was on its way
“Please do come inside
And I shall bake you some cake”
The face brightened the more
And thru the steps I led him
Taking our time as we head to the door
The sun sets, the clouds dim
And then the winds blew
Snow balls fall in drunk circles
And the road was full of white hue
I set the little brown kettle
And soon it was whistling
“Sire, you can stay the night”
I saw the hope in his eyes, dwindling
“Thanks for your hospitality”
He smiled again with some pain
The bulb up the ceiling kept shining
And I see glares of the old man
Take a side look, once and again
After tea and very hot shower
He lay on the bed, with his eyes on the ceiler
I sensed the unease, and made for the bed
“Sire, is anything the matter?”
He grunted and calmly shook his head
“Nah son, but I kept watching
This little light shining up there
I prefer to sleep on something
Afar off this little Sun up there!
I dont know what holds that”
He pointed to the bulb, carefully
Trying to let me see
Why the bed should be moved
Fearing should the hand
Holding the bulb decides to let go
What might become of him
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Flowers for you
Flowers are natures gifts
They bloom, they are fine
And bees find nectar on them
The airs delight on their fragrance
Flowers reminds me of you
A tender but strong woman
One of Natures goddesses
One of Natures sweet flowers
One of Natures gifts to man
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Courage
for Uwakmfon Ebong
1.6.2015
The breadth of the Earth lay wet
But the Sun rises from the East
From vague sights and the mist
The dark jungles, cool and serene
But the Lions stride through the green
Fearing neither man or faun
A shriek of strength is heard up the skies
The Eagle soars high up, many many miles
Hopes are high, seething thru the times
The wind surfs the wild oceans
The Whales trumpet blows far beyond
And all tremble, sea-dwellers and stray crustaceans
Now if the Skies were conquered by a hopeful bird
And to the jungles a strong King is crowned
And to the waters, courage abound
Then this piece made for you
Brings to you a joint of these brothers: strength, hope and courage
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the Farmer
What beautiful things a farmer can be
The late night he dreams of his cattle
The other days dream was for the pigs
And always the sweet music of the farm
Comes to him as an embrace
What beautiful things a shepherd can do
At the call of the Rooster, early morning
He, off his bed jumps scantily cladded
Rushing towards the browned farmstead
To his bleating sheep and chicken
Then to the doors, he gladly leans to open
Praying silently to the welfare of the flock
Denying his own comfort and warmth
Greeting the flock one after the other
While they all watch on excitedly
His hands are smeared with dust and soot
He minds not the awful smell
The day will be fast gone, spent unwisely
If the Cows are not fast milked
And the Chickens eggs taken to safety
The moonlights are like childrens firecrackers
The nights are filled with sweet memories
For I once a small poultry tender
Will always return to my beds warmth
A very good dream to gather
