-
Musing: Crickets
-
A New Day
-
Ferns
-
The Waterside
-
A beautiful morning
-
The Crow and The Rabbit
-
Crystals of Water
I hear your swift surge Like the snaky locomotive Cockcroaching thro tunnels And sighing along the way See the waters clear as the sweet spring; Leaping crystals surge forward in haste The waters run in joy to other lands Feeding the shorelines all this while Pulling along the stray crab and the torn ferns And…
-
The Lone Wolf
-
To Love…
-
Quiet nights
Quiet nights can be romantic And when one- a poet is alone Words of reason come to him But stray night flies sing about And the crickets quiz themselves Proposing numerous theories Asking questions and reminding One another of the quiet day To them the nights should be noisy It should be one of merriment…
-
The Rising Sun
-
Masquerades
Strings of flax fall from your stress Hides carved from animal skin And strange cloth embellish you You swerve around like a drunk Scaring children and younger folk Caring for nothing but for asunder The masks on you remind of the hyena Your whip dragging behind you as you walk As you seek peoples’ doors…
-
Start new, 2016
-
A Muse: Arise, my Sunshine
Goodmorning my sunshine Should I let the curtains open To let the suns warmth reach us? See the sun rise fast above the clouds From the silhouettes of caves she rises Showing herself in between two cliffs Painting the grey land gold; There is smell of burning grass Come from farms awaiting the suns heat…
-
The rivulet, Oko’pia
You stay far away And you beckon to us From the quiet hamlets, we hear you call Messages passing through the forest rumbling stomach To the white clouds garnished by the sunshine And the tree pathways, leading to you We sit on your banks, telling stories of the wild You let the trees surrounding us…
-
The Butterfly
-
Take me there
-
Your Smiles
-
A Psalm : Hide me in Your Shadow
-
Hold my hands
-
Festive Season
-
Yehobhah, God of Invincibility
-
Aba, The Enyimba City
See the roofs on houses, dust cladded And the palm trees stuck to the ground Like a majestic knight standing guard The streets wind up the road Ogbor sits on a hill up the vale The ancient city and fortress Once on the river flowing fast Washing strange mens nakedness The harmattan brings dusts upon…
-
Let us dance
-
Be there for you
-
By the Window side on the Harmattan
Once by the window side One can see the greenfields The tulips and the sweet smelling Rose And the little spider crawling about in her net The golden sun shines forth Bringing her warmth through the window And the birds twitter on the tree Which live near the windowside Sometimes squirrels come bounding in Throwing…
-
God is Reading
Now write of the falling leaves From tree tops and heights As they fall in solemn circles And as the wind rock them about Write about the mountains and hills About the hollow sound made When the birds hover over them Painting silhouettes upon the ground Write about the trees And their sweet awesomeness The…
-
Musing: Longing for thee
-
When the Sky Fall
-
The sunset
-
Airy Night
-
The Leopard Man
-
Umudinja
Tonight, reminds me of thee motherland Thee land of great forests and men! Of streams and vast farmlands! The home of the Cashew and the Palm The scenery of Mother Natures beauty A painted work, done only by Nature herself Great hills and vales surround thee Oh how love flows when you are remembered All…
-
Worthy Is The Lamb
-
Natures Fury
-
My Lover
-
Fantasy: “I Am”
-
Musing: Sun Rising in Africa
-
Kpe’re in the Harmattan
-
Flowers from the front
-
Umukwu: In Cold Mornings
-
Musing: If Love
-
Tears
-
Verses of December
THE MIST The morning is filled with the mist The pathways are treacherous Filled with stray serpents and scorpions Come to land to get some warmth HARMATTAN The heat burns the flesh Dried skin and teary eyes The wind is merciless pushing away All that dared to stand before her BURNING GRASSES Burnt grasses give…
-
Love Life
-
My Sunshine
-
Glittering Stars and the Surging Wind
-
Alherin
-
What do you see in Poetry?
Every morning comes the fever The fever for an adventure Come from writing and love Waltzing blue inked pen, full of life * And when poetry was first made God sent it down to Linguists Saying “What do you see?” They raised their brows quietly Mincing words, struggling to find the description Poetry was then…
-
Two Poems for love