Lullaby: Decembers’ rain

Fast falls the evening, mild breezes, cold rain, rinsing the dusty roof tops

Dark clouds shadow the moon, the evening is left to wander alone, 

Trees bow to the swift wind; bending, twisting; left and right

But the night was agog with life, the breezes an excuse for heavy sleepers

A week before the heat was sinister, intense but the rain has come

And has come, to usher in the harmattan to the quiet countryside 
Water dripped from tree leaves, the evening kept songs unsung 

Smell of dust cloud the hamlet, the Night herself a little cold

And when the rains came softly, the pattering on the rooftops sang 

Yet crickets quizzed themselves from their hidden citadel

Making this quiet and fine night, Mother Natures own lullaby


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


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


A muse: God’s Love

Songs of the night, sweet lullabies for the days toil

Messages from Heaven, refined touch of God’s goodness

Whistling from the neighboring pines and wide eyed owls

All call out to the quiet night, strange, quietly hopeful
Dreams are cut out on plates of wet marble

Left to dry out in the open sun, like some fairytale

Hopes of happy ever after, thoughts of great deeds

One bonded from Nature and love of God


Tudun Amba, Lafia


Sprawled across a fertile land,

On a hill overlooking a quiet river

Where the rains come once in a while

And when it does, it is a fine luxury

Trees stand, here and there

Occurring once upon a place

Grasses are seldom seen, the sand most often

The palmwine* taste absolutely sweet

But in the mug we see dead drunk bees


The skies are blue; original, authentic

The river, flooded with the big rains

Quiet are the calm nights, cold mostly

But the early morning belongs to the sun

The people like everyone else, smileful 


In the mornings, the children play on the sand

When there was no chores, or when all was boring

The noon; lazy, the sun bake away, tanning everyone

In the heat, everyone seek out a shed, a citadel

The evenings are mild, sometimes unnecessarily hot

Then scorpions will find their way out for some air

In the nights the dogs bark to disturb the peace

Making all wonder what they might have seen

And when these all merge, they produce a small village

One placed somewhere, where the moon shine bright

And the sun a steady member of the community!

Note: Tudun Amba is a suburb of the capital city of Lafia, Nasarawa state. I am currently residing in this ancient city of Northern Nigeria. The North of Nigeria is somewhat hotter than the South.

Palmwine: a tasty white African wine tapped from the Raffia palm and other special palm trees, consumed as a beverage or as alcohol when fermented. 


Tree Leaves Falling

Now the tree leaves fall before us, dancing with the wind they somersault
Time flies, memories fade, goodness lives and the day goes spent

The tree leaves fall beside us, with the wind she danced, possessed, carefree
While her brethren watched her swirl about, with the flirty wind on the tree

The tree house the grey squirrels whose work is to chew the tree fruits
Up the branches so high, they made their citadel, their home, a fort

The tarred pathway is full of tree leaves, close movement throw them dancing up and down
And when there is peace, they lay quiet and once more there is tranquility on the lawn

The flirty wind blows about, the fallen leaves she mildly hunt
Meanwhile the sun shine brightly while the tree leaves fall quietly


Musing: Candle Light

Night falls
Sleep calls

My candle light dance, hovering madly before me
Careless of its nakedness, careless of her waywardness
Yet there was very little wind here, rather a swift breeze
Coming now and then, but the candle light danced

The corner of the room stood, darkened behind me
My silhouette forming a union with the dark
And the night one of quiet loneliness, resourcefulness

Now the pen dance with the wind and candle light
The papers are bleeding with ink, fine and some obscure
Underwhelmed with the burden of a switching breeze
And the candle light which knew little but dance…

And so on… So the night is quiet but the pen aint!


Musing: Sweet and Sour

Bent, folded I returned to my own self
Baking in the euphoria of failed love itself
Shivers accompany thoughts, rented worries
Revived just to welcome the sad, old self
Moments are lost when smiles were love,
When winks, faces said how much I cared

Transform me back, if I have no soul at all
Let the toils of failed love refresh my hopes
Let me live to love without remorse



Sold to the warm white clouds and suns heat,
To the golden hue, shared across the firmaments
Across the fields where grows the yellow wheat
Came a new born, a new beginning, a new month
To the East and West, to the North and the South
It came, striving, growing, standing, blest

February retells stories of Apple trees stuck in Pine forests
And the tales of the strange night when it is all cold and dark
While the golden sun shine upon all, the greens find it exciting
The stray sugar ants and millipedes find it irritating

But here bespeak to a lovely month of flowers
and purple and of lands which live under the sun


Lullaby: Moonshine

”Where there is shine, there is a way…”

Take a walk through the pathways that lead to the village center
Pass the heavily treed garden of sour grapes and locust bean
And the ever singing Pines that border the town from the forest

Upon the skies, like a print of gold on the darkened grey clouds
A circle of light descend on the carpets of grasses and leaves
Creating a pathway of light to and fro, there and then, here and now
The fruits which hung on the forest shone like Christmas trees
Airs of the wild Nature, the rarest play on the moonshines command
Drawing faun, flora and man to her warmest embrace of light

…And for the faint and weak a very good night sleep to savor


I am Nigeria

You have smiles on your face
Reminds me of my beloved siblings
No need to see you thru your race
You are you; one, unique and winning

Igbo kwenu! Kedu, olee, how do you do?
Come in, have a sit, taste this dish
You come in peace, we surely know
To you, all good things we gladly wish

Have you seen or heard the names we bear?
We are the people of God; Oluwa, Tamuno and Chukwu
We are unique; our food and the dress we wear
We say ‘Oshe’ which mean the same as my ‘kwongo’

Kei! Listen my cattle moos behind the huts
Can you hear? How tasteful the milk, fetched this morning?
When the nights come, gather for some cream sauce
Don’t forget to visit; come once, come all, salaam alekun

I can be Berom or Mumuye, I can be the the Efik or Igala
Don’t seek my race first before knowing me
I am Ijaw or Tiv, I am Edo, I am Ibibio and the Idoma
So don’t judge me because I was born a tribe to be


Musing: Setting sun

The setting sun reminds me of many things
Some nice, some exciting, some make me laugh
And others leave me sobbing at the thought
But making me to laugh or leaving me to sob
I find times defined in those memories, not me
Twilight comes with even finer airs, playing
On fantasies that my mind accepted long ago
Demanding is the airs,  her companion upon her wake
Surging to meet all the news that came with the evening
Particularly, the rendezvous staged by happy lovers
Nature Uncategorized

Let us take a Walk


 Now let us take a walk through the pine forest

Through the shed which the forest provides

Through the pathway where the leaves form a cushion

Through the place where the squirrels make an abode

And the darkness of the shrubs a shed from the noon

Come let us take a walk through the lands where wheat grow

Where our eyes will meet the wonders of mother Nature,

Through the lands where fine green forests stay

Through gardens of tulips and roses and the Jacaranda

And where the streams flow towards the estuary

Let us take a walk through lands where men keep flowers

And when they blossom they pick them for the ladies

And the happy ladies dance to the love of the men

And when they dance they turn to smile showing fine teeth

Hoping for more flowers as they twist and turn

Come let us take a walk through my minds eyes

Let us write a story of our very own imaginations

Let us 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 entourage

Let us take a walk through the fields called love

And drink of the elixir which heals all pains

Let us take a walk through Gods word and grace

Through sincerity and purpose, through care and humanity

And hope that planes drop cucumbers and not bombs!

Come let us take a walk through fields of wheat

Let us gather the snails and slugs with a rake

Let us make fun of the things which stay around

And when the nights come to our moments

Let us sit to warm ourselves on a fire on the field


A muse: The Thunder and her nephew


When the thunder storm descends

The clouds rumble with a quake,

For the Earth and her companions

She cuts up a powerful link

Letting her much younger nephew

Take a solid images of the quiet world

Every other force goes on pause, on mute

While the two siblings enjoy their ride

Through the Earth, through dust and air!

The wind do their bidding

And if you have much hair

Find a shelter for a bad hair day is awaiting!


Strangely there is a thing between me and the thunder,

Between me and the rains that blow cold asunder

I feel attached to the feats which the storms achieve,

To the lightning which rode the wild skies and made a weave

Of shadows and cloudy stunts, here and there, black and grey

And to the end, does not care what people have to say


Loves Silhouette


The evening came shyly

The sun set before us

And the end of the world

We see fall below the hilltop

The sweet airs wind traverse about

They travel with grace

Flirting with our hairs and cloth

Now it is darker but can you see me?

It is the sun set

And she smile up those hills

Nothing is left behind

But our own silhouette of love

And I stand before you, staring

Staring into your blue eyes

While the sun set quietly beside us




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


The Glass Wall, and a commentary on friendship

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

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

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

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

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

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


Paper Poetry

Shake off the fatigue

The world waits to meet you
The world waits to celebrate you
Look beyond the dark skies
Look beyond your heights
Look beyond the rain and storm
Look beyond the past dreams
Hit the weakly cocoon
Break the walls open
Fly butterfly, fly away
Never hesitate on your flight to glory
And may God bless your efforts
As you grow this seed of faith
The world waits for you
You are the best, yes you! :):)

So have for yourself an amazing week!bigger smily


African Inspiration

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

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

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

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


Darkness falls

Darkness falls…

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

So went the day, in this quiet hamlet


Okechukwu’s Haiku

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

Good morning from Africa!


Fallacy of love

Dear Diary…

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

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

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


The Wind

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

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

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

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

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


The Village chief

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

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

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

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

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

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


The Shepherds Tale

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

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


Lions and Lionesses

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

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

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

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


The Palm Tree

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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August night

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

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

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

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

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

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

Square: Village square, town centre.


A muse: Diaries of a Traveller

Dear Diary…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


Thankful Psalm

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

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

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

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

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

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


Sunday light in Uyo

Arise and shine
Arise and shine

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

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

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


Color 2 for Uwakmfon Ebong and Makabongwe Luphelele

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

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


The Gardeners seed

Saint-Ligoue Street

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


Watch the sun rise

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

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

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

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

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

And someday soon, I’ll be there


Lullaby: Rain drums

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

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

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

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


For me, a thoughtful piece

There are hidden crickets singing carefree-ly
Whenever I find myself in my quiet time
A moment just before I set into a reverie,
A moment I recall all I like to see in my dream

Dreams come true if you keep it at heart;
What joy one will have to climb the Kilimanjaro
Or to drive thru the wild fields of the Veldt
Or to watch the Lions as they prowl the land of Tsavo!

I find fascinating the rhythm of waterfalls
The thoughts of the hot Sahara and her sands
The morning hoo-hooting of the gentle Doves as they call
The healing touch come from mother Natures greatness

I was in reality, killed an attacking green snake
A chipmunk, a crab, a scorpion and even more-
I sit to wonder what might be mother Natures take,
On my acts and hope I never disrupted her flow

I offer to myself a series of thoughts and words
Stirring the excellent spirit of God to guide me,
Believing on the power of my soaring mind
And taking a stand to be better, to take the lead

The dawn gives me a fresh start,
Yet another dream to find beautiful
A story of reality or fantasies I write
And ideas for lifes advancement plentiful

I am indebted to hardwork…
‘Following knowledge like a sinking star’
Gathering my steps one at a time,
And now my life is about going prime!


Muse: Ne’er too late

When the sun fails to wake,
The day grows so cold and gloomy
The Dew cast her spell on the day
From the hilltops, vales and lakes
To the countryside which is woody,
And the ponds where the ducks lay
There is no ‘life’ in the sad day

By the riverside, the wind blast
Throwing the trees into a wild frenzy
The leaves fall into the flowing rivers
As the white waters rush in haste
To lands where very few can see
If the morning sun fails to rise even higher
Should it be an excuse not to work harder?

Now if the sun fails to rise
We grow weak with the waking day
And all surge of energy for work
Disappears from even the hardworker,
We excuse ourselves with the days rain
And call the heavy storms bad names
But if the sun never woke from her slumber
Should we join her in her temporary sleep?

Let a cloudy day come and rain fall
But don’t let your spirits be dampened
It is never too late to start


Colors: the first part

Colors are very beautiful
They tell a lot about all;
And a little about this and that
The ocean, the sun
The mice that live across
The busy street roads
Or the golden corn field
And the wild, the deserts
And the ice of Antarctica
Colors describe our feelings
Red with rage
The royal purple…

Each day wakes with colors
Take the flowers as an example,
Some grow so pale like the purple
And some, like the blessed color of harvest
Gold, the suns’ face upon a field of wheat

The soft and mild wind move about, quietly
Up the great green trees where the pretty birds live
And on the grey soil where the mushrooms thrive
But none is able to paint her till this day
Why? I wonder, but none can truly say

Okay let us paint a color, a fair one
Just any color which comes to mind
Flaunt the blues, make a little mound
Of nice sweet dreamy hue of orange
With a bunch of hogs walking to forage

Okay, let us talk about the eye hues
About the red that signifies danger
And the blood-shot eyes of the Hyena
Brown, that makes all images muddy
And to me seems a lot more nasty

What if there was a color of feelings?
Now let us try to paint a color of love
Like a surge of water upon the wharf
How amazing it is to add a drop of ruby
A humble hue, just for you and me?


A Love poem

Your words are sweet like honeycombs
Freshly taken from the bark of the trees
And melting in my lips, like butter on fire

Like the graceful wild deer you walk
And the soft sound of your foot walk
Beats strongly, the drums of my heart

The swift surge of the evening air
Compares not to your amazing smile
Your glittering teeth, splendor of my soul

You make me laugh out, happy
In my dreams I behold your face
When I wake, it is your smile I recall

Upon your face the sun rises
As like vale-lands hidden by the high hills
The dark is pushed away when you wake

The tuft on your hands like the reeds
That flourish by the side of the river
Dark is your skin, blessed is you

You are loved and admired
I am your biggest fan and friend
You are another Gods love to me

I was awake tonight of June
My hands shiver upon my papers
As I pencil down these words

Memories flood my big head
But I find it joyful to say few
I count myself very blessed

Oke’ Iroegbu



This morning brought me some fresh rain
From my window I see the rains drop around
The fresh smell of the clayey soil come
Mixed with the scent of boiling corn
Blue clouds sift across the skyline
As the Doves come down to dine
Always; brown and greens all about
Grasses of the south start to sprout
The day is new, a month is born
And pretty June just came around
With her a handful of rain
For all- faun, flora and man