Africa education haiku lifestyle Nature opinion Poetry reflection rhyme Series

What I think of Poverty (Poetry)

What if I told you a poem of poverty
Will you wave it off and call me silly?
I will tell you what I think
Why communities continue to sink,
School children trek miles to get a bus
Their worn-out shoes make it worse,
Bright girls will deliberately miss school
Sanitary pads their excuse, without it a woe,
There is a lad sitting near the street bend
His foot sore, his hair torn in the wind,
He is a victim of poverty, he has no home
So he and others sit it out, in rain and storm,
Slavery, a grandchild of poverty takes
People, in order to help for goodness sake,
She humbly breaks the back of hard-working men
And throw their conquered will into her mothers den,
Cold night won’t help anyone either
She is cruel to both the rich and the pauper,
Poverty gave a meal once a day
To wish deceitful luxuries away,
If poverty was a product and so man-made
It is dished as soup in fancy bottles of pomade,
Now will you sit with me and reason
About wealth that is tactfully hidden
And enjoyed by those we trust with votes?
You will agree that poverty is not by choice

Africa culture/tradition education folklore Igbo culture Lessons from Experiences lifestyle Nature Pastoral Poetry Series

African childhood Memories

I long for my childhood days in rural Africa,
To fill my lungs with morning air descending from hills
And to till farmland that stretch into sunset

Golden sunrise always kept everyone speechless
And when birds welcome the day with choruses
Sweet breezes gather to battle the sun warmth
Infants may resume their wailing culture
And somewhere up, away from the hamlet
Hawks and Eagles surf the blue wild skies
Little birds build their nests on Palm Trees
Filling quiet neighbourhood with joyful cries
Down by the riverside a school of silver fish swim
Scattering when a breadfruit plunge into the stream

After the morning chores
The boys move on to the green field
Sheltered and surrounded by big trees
From the pitch we pick team mates
And set up goal posts with bamboo
Now our football was unripe oranges or grapes
And when the game start our little legs race off,
Up and down the field, while monkeys watch from trees
I gladly remember the taste of Egusi biscuits,
The numerous fruits that grow on trees near home
And tasty Oha vegetable soup prepared by granny
Now the ancient hills and green trees are my brothers
I climb the guava and mango trees with bare hands
And race up those hills upon the evening tide
Waterfalls are my hideout when in mischief,
The streams my pool where I still my soul
The night is full of dreams, full of starry nights,
I retire with other kids to eat my warm soup
Listening as fire lick the wood outside, slowly
Dinner brings the day close to an end but not yet
As a generous story may be told
My favourite being a tale of the Giraffe
And how he ate the sickly moon half

I long for my childhood days in rural Africa still
To watch the sunset behind hills I call home

Start a WordPress blog here.

Africa culture/tradition education folklore lifestyle Nature Pastoral Poetry



I see a golden ray
Giving light from afar
Up the lonely road
Near the cliffs edge
Where leaves fall in circles,
Caring about nothing
As they fall, happily
And the skies not seen
But a streak of sun light
Filing through waving trees
Now and then,
Rodents of tall trees,
Curious about the passerby
Rush through tree branches
Enjoying her damp dark nest
Which envelope the forest,
Playing, hide and seek,
Wondering what passerby’s seek,
Yet the road is quiet
Crafted from a thousand layers
Of fallen leaves piled up
One against another.
Amidst, yellow leaves care not,
If it falls, and lays on a red leaf.
But this is life’s green circle
Life may die to live!

But all through this I seek the way,
Through my land and her forest,
Blessed, yet seeking to see another land

Start a blog.

Africa lifestyle Nature Pastoral Poetry

Amuse: Reason to Smile


I like to see you laugh
Turn around, watch my goofy face
Let me be the reason you smile
To make your pain go away
Let me see curves on your mouth
Dance to lyrics of my daydream
Call me naughty names if you would,
Call me a pigeon with one dark eye,
Call me Napoleon of famed animal farm,
Call me the Joker, with his goofy smiley,
Or anything that catch your fancy,
For I care only for your pretty smile
And the memories they bring to me


Image from
Africa culture/tradition education folklore lifestyle Love and Christianity Nature Pastoral Poetry Series

Follower of the Month

Hello friends,

It’s a tough time, isn’t it? Hang on, things will make sense soon.

I just had this thought and reasoned it may be fun too. I’m going to write and dedicate a poem to a follower as a way of saying thank you. Since I can’t afford to give books, flowers or other gifts for now (hopefully I’ll in the near future), I decided to say my appreciation this way. I don’t want to pick randomly as I’ve so many followers in mind.

So I’m going to drop a trivia at the end of this blog post and whoever answers it first and correctly, of course, on the comment section will have their blog link and a customized poetic thank you from me published here next month. I’ll share it to all my social media handles. Let’s have fun and look to the bright side of life.

Thank you for being there. I appreciate you all. ❤😊😘

TRIVIA question: What do you think is the central theme of my blog?

Africa lifestyle Nature Pastoral

Poverty and Covid-19

This image says it all. All they have in rural Africa are hope, prayers and faith. Most of our leaders are little more than puppeteers.

Africa lifestyle Nature Pastoral Poetry


Please can you take this poll for me? It’s anonymous and I appreciate.

Nature Pastoral Poetry

Made of Rhyme by David Thane Cornell

Nature is a pixie
Unworthy to be sung,
Can it be I’m sixty,
I who was so young?

Over generous hearted,
She heaped me full of years,
Careless if I carted
Bellylaughs or tears.

Though spring is hers for poets
With hopes too high to climb,
I’m strutting up the summit
On crutches made of rhyme.

© 2011

lifestyle Nature Poetry

City Life by Robin N Bliss

Tall,towering up so high
Glass towers touch the sky
Man made canyons concrete,stone
There the wind funnels mourn n’moan
People hurry push and shove
No time here for thing like love
Neon signs glowing bright
They are such a colourful sight

Buildings forming angles sharp
Here and there,there is a park
Cars and buses grind and roar
So much traffic more and more
Sunlight reflecting off the glass
Clouds form patterns as they pass
And the buskers entertain
But,see the homeless in their pain

See the man in tattered clothes
Shuffling on wards as he goes
See the man in business suit
For he doesn’t give a hoot
For the poor and homeless man
We know he doesn’t give a damn
And so the city life goes on
From the night until the dawn

Africa culture/tradition education Igbo culture lifestyle Nature Pastoral

Another visit to Ovim’s Hills

If you encounter tablelands and rocks, hills and valleys, waterfalls and streams, abundant trees and virgin forests, all set in one quiet countryside, you will agree that Ovim is really blessed. Ovim is situated on ancient hills, a beautiful place for camping and outdoor fun. Each time I visit I get healed by her beautiful ambience. Welcome again to my home, Ovim. I was on transit, so couldn’t captured images exactly. The grasses had turned brown and I noticed that some ponds had dried up. I saw school children play in the fields, near their school and heard birds sing from the cover of trees in the forest. Don’t take my word for it, visit Africa. Want a blog or website like this one? Then click here.

Africa folklore Nature Pastoral Poetry Series

A Farmer’s Love song

I picked a pretty fruit
Which reminds me of you
Grey eyes and elegant

There are many fruits
But you are just exotic
A fine and pretty sight

You are an amazing fruit
Like the seed of Sunflower
Sweet to keep my days light

You have become my fruit
The sunshine after darkness
My best friend; humble and sweet

Africa culture/tradition folklore Igbo culture Lessons from Experiences lifestyle Nature Pastoral Poetry Series

The Rainmaker’s Tales: Beginning

When I am not making the rain fall
To flood the village and farms
And to make the river banks overflow
Then I will be watching the glittering stars
And talking to her, the night and moon
Well, the night is never complete without a tale
And this is for the sleepy little ones,
I shall tell you of the Forest and her folk

… The Rainmaker


Once when the Forests owned all the land
And the Forest King loved the valley greens
For it spread, such that the quiet mountain
Was covered with green grasses and plants,
The Wind adored the Mountain’s look
For during winter, she was terribly cold
That she felt absolutely nothing even for the Wind
She had no dimples, no smiles, no blushing
But the Tomato could blush and did a good job of it, anyway,
So each time the farmers called out to the tomato,
All she could was smile and blush deep red,
Now the Ice King wooed the Mountain and usually
Gathered around her face to give a warm kiss
But this never went down well with the Wind
For when the Ice King left with his captains,
And Summer came, the Forests grew their green
But the Wind felt awful all year round,
Thinking he was a big time loser!
The truth was that the lonely Mountain felt nothing
And was never meant for this young Wind

To be continued…

folklore Love and Christianity Nature Pastoral Poetry

Love Challenge 10

Twist and turns, hills and valley,
Day and night, your love is home

Africa lifestyle Love and Christianity Nature Pastoral Poetry Series

Love Challenge 7

You are loved and admired
I am your biggest fan and friend
You are God’s gift and love to me

Africa Love and Christianity Nature Pastoral Poetry Series

Love Challenge 6

The hair on your hands are like reeds
That flourish by the river side
Light chocolate is your skin colour

Africa Love and Christianity Nature Pastoral Poetry

Love Challenge 2B

I don’t care what people say
I admire your soul, your drive
Your spirit and how you love me
I love you back, that’s what matters

Africa Love and Christianity Nature Pastoral Poetry Series

Love Challenge 2

Like graceful deer you walk,
The soft sound of your foot thrill me,
Thrills softly the drums of my heart

Africa culture/tradition Igbo culture

Anunebe: The Masquerade as reported by Okoroji Chidiebere Alexander

The moment is almost here as people in the village are all dressed to watch the great Anunebe perform in the village square, one occasion that is performed once in a year, and this makes the event one of the greatest anticipated events in Ibeme, Isiala-Mbano, a small village in Imo State, Eastern part of Nigeria. The Villagers are eager, anxious and nervous to welcome the Great Anunebe to the village square where all the displays, dramas and performances will be carried out. Anunebe is a godlike Masquerade. He is very tall— spiritually taller than the Iroko tree. With his deified attire, with a stag of bull around his head, in a guise to give way for the ways of the gods, and with a cloak which conceals; a disguise or pretext of his person and with a beautiful artifice with all sorts of symbol— that of a Serpents, a red Python; a very strange one, and skulls of human heads; heads of Great Warriors of the land “The Ikembas” (those who died in the battle field), not “The Efulefus” (those that ran away). And with all manners of charms and musical instruments, that makes sonorous sounds when he jump or shakes his body. He is invisible, as one can’t identify the person behind the Masquerade. It was an arcane knowledge known to few. Although, rumor holds it that; those behind the Masquerade are one of the Great Idibias’ (Herbalist/ Chief Priest), one that is very close to the oracle and the gods of the land. Prophecy holds it that, anyone behind the Masquerade is a spirit that bring the people closer to the gods and their ways—as the person won’t be able to control himself— the gods will be in possession of the person. That fateful day, on Afor Market day, the Village Elders are all prepared wearing their “Chieftaincy and titled red and black caps and an Aguiye Attire”, with the faces of Tiger and Lion displayed on it. While the Women, especially the Ezinnes, are also prepared in their colourfully blazing uniform, “the blouse and Joge”. The youth: the boys and the girls are also prepared as they dressed in their respective native attire; while the boys mimics the men, the girls do same with the women. Here comes the drummers; the Ogene boys, the Ocha boys and the Ofikpo boys. We also have the Wondrous Dancers, the Omalicha girls, Odum girls and Ocherigo girls. As they beat the drums proficiently while the Dancers dances to Entertain everyone, the Young, and the Elderly especially the women among them; were filled with joy and happiness as they remembered their youthful days, how awesome their dancing styles, the shaking of the waists was. The men too, they remembered how they arouse their audience by climbing the trees while chanting, the flexing of muscles to the amusement of the beautiful girls who admires them. Everyone stood still as they welcome the Great Anunebe, who only comes in when the sun is down. The chants, the grunts, the chunters, while the man behind the flute melt the chord with his melody. Everyone is energized and invigorated; the welcoming displays is appreciated by the Elders, as the Oyesiala (The head of land) pave way for the Great Anunebe to enter the scene as he uses Dry Gin to pray and blessed the land where he will be performing. Although, the rituals behind the scene has been completed. The demands actualized! Twelve heads of Guinea fowl, four heads of white native Goats, A Python’s tongue, two eyes of a crocodile, the urine of seven virgins and a Lion’s blood. Has he enters, everyone becomes scared and frightened, ” What a mighty creature of a Masquerade”. He bends out from the hut shrine where he was, with his chanter who sings all manners of praise to him while he walks majestically to the field that’d been decorated with all sorts of creatures, dead tortoise, vultures, bats…., before he enters the field, he uses his back and walks slowly while taking a bow to recognise the goddess of the earth “Ani” when he gets there; he raises his head up, “Wow” as it marvels the crowd. He’s bodily and bossily built. “A Giant of a Masquerade” Very huge and Tall! A dwarf have to be careful not to loss his head. One can’t see the eyes but can hear his strange voices with his crafted, red painted Tiger head, a very big one. He chanted and invoked the presence of the gods as he speaks in strange language only those gifted by the gods can be able to comprehend. He recognises everyone as he greets them. Now the moment everyone has been waiting for, the magical dance. He change his steps severally, raises is head, shakes his body and gave the audience a spectacular display of a dance as all became speechless and astonished, “More than what one bargain for”. That golden moment that comes once in a blue moon. It seems the gods as posses those beating the drum, as they were doing it diligently. The style and manner is totally different. The Great Anunebe danced, and danced and danced in a godlike to the amusement of those that came. Some were even crying, while others were dancing along. That moment changed Chike’s and Obi’s life, has they appreciated their culture and heritage more!

Okoroji Chidiebere Alexander is a Business Education and Business Administration graduate of UNN and OOU. He authored: The Perfect me, My Village is now a Town, The Grid, The Engrieved and Aberration.


Musing: Singina likes my Tales

“I remember your funny and lovely tales”, she yawned
She continued: “You complete my day with your poems!”
At first I wasn’t sure of what I did exactly, 
But as a shepherd I find pleasure writing away
Telling of my travels, of my long days and how it ended
Now, tomorrow I shall tell you another tale of mine
If you seriously say you love the tales I tell you, 
Then you must pay attention, for it is not just a lullaby

For some tales are ill, when I fought my fears; 
To swim in the Snake river which flowed west, 
And when I caught a forbidden crab from the stream
I must tell you for you wished to hear of the Python
That took a traveler who was saved at the last point
Do not gasp, you must pay attention, for some of my lyrics
Are not songs at all, but words others say or teach me
As such you must pay great attention to what I 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


Four Musings: My Music, The Train, August and WordPress

1. My Music
The sweet tingling of the guitar strings
On my soft palms reminds me of a song
Which plays quietly in my heart
Without drums and strings they play
The songs call out to love
To memories which I adore
I will let this music play through the valleys
And the peak of highest mountains
Through the fields where yellow corn grow
And through the empty hallway
Believing you hear me someday

2. The Train
Nothing excites a countryside boy better
Than a steady long stream of the iron snake!
When it comes with its powerful grace,
The roadways shake and tremble greatly
With the tongues of various green grasses scrubbing
The sides of the iron snake, without drawing his attention
The goats bleat, the kids yell, men came to see
Though unperturbed with the movements about
The iron snake hoots out loud and clear warnings
Minding his business, he went on jogging by

3. August
Some holidays, some month!
Some dancing and some fun
The days are mild, so are the nights
The food warm and the fruits ripe
When it rains, the wet clay rejoice
And women gather to pick the ‘udala’*
Sweet fruit atimes but sour other times
The sun shine is beautiful,
It creates a bright atmosphere
One unrivaled just for August

4. WordPress
My days are joyful and hopeful
Full of sweet dreams and journeys
I discovered a pathway down the jungle
And threaded carefully thru the thorn
Wandering in the great unknown of the pen,
Wondering what might become of my pain
But nothing forth coming without a try
Now I answer why not, when they ask why?
And this dream won’t be complete without you
Yes I can fly high, I can soar higher with you

Udala fruit is a tropical fruit and well eaten in the southern parts of West Africa. The name udala perhaps is a native Igbo name. Thank you WordPress for this wonderful opportunity!


Silhouettes and Fear

What lurks in the darkness and nights
Waiting to jump on ones neck
When no light come from the stars?

What bears a fur and Sabre tooth
And follow the silhoutte of preys
Even as one walk in the lonely park?

What stands in a dark tree plantation
Running its ferocious claws on tree barks
And howling to the new moon rising?

What strikes grave horror and terror
Running after mens heels
Trying to stand before ones face?

What wears a sinister painted mask
With forbears of evil and coldness
Trying to feed on gullible peoples minds?

Nothing fearful is actually real
But when the night and shadows are gone
Fear only, He who kills the soul and body


Fantasy: “I Am”

I am a mist
Covering the green woods
In the early hours of the morning
Descending upon the streets a mirage

I am a shadow
Hiding in the quiet streets
Following lights wherever it goes
Swerving about in the lights flicker

I am a rainmaker
One who invokes the rain
One who calls upon the thunder
And strikes fear in the hearts of all

But I am also a rainbow
Painting the grey skylines
With my colorful hues
And the beauty of Nature

I am a cat, the leopard
Striding the vast jungle
A king of the wild;
The keeper of the wild

I am a wolf
Lurking in the shadows
Watching the crowd pass by
Letting dogs bark all night

I am a forest of trees
The one who feeds the wild
The house of the squirrels
A citadel for all flora and fauns

I am the wild
The lover of Natures gift
The waterfalls that stand ageless
The wonders that men never knew

I am a dream
The power of the will
The believe in oneself
The desire to achieve

I am a lantern
A burning hope
Of a dying world
A dancing ray of light

I am a Mustard
I am small but mighty!
I bear fruits in my time
And growing among thorns

I am a lover
The one who pulls her hair
And holds her to high esteem
In want, in plenty, but joy we have

I am a poet
Living in my fantasies alone
Painting the world with words
Loving the fate Providence has for me

I am Africa!
The Plains of the Savannah
The waterfalls of Lake Victoria
And the roars of the Lion

I am the Sunshine
The beauty of Mother Nature
The protector of the world
And the hope of another day

I am hope
That mankind will love truly
That the world will be peaceful
And that peace will have a chance

I can be whatever I chose to be.

This is not about me. I am writing this piece just for the fun of it. I am human, therefore I am in no way invisible. Only but few, of the verses I believe are true about me.


Muse: This Night

One look of things here, now
The world would seem so absurd
The love I hid in my heart years back
Comes to play on my wild fancies

This is not my normal poetry per se, I wouldnt classify it as thus. i have had a clash somewhat with someone I really find fascinating and I have been able to learn.


Though it came a Lil late


I wish I could chat you all one at a time. Thanks for coming by to read me. The joy of a writer is the audience he has. You guys gave me the nod to go ahead, thanks. Can’t mention all your names for space- followers, readers, commenters and those who had liked my pieces right from the first day, I see you and am always glad seeing you around. I love you guys and you are the reason I write. Let’s continue our work, to write and to paint. And may thanks be to God maker of man, nature and poetry. Happy new 2015 to you all.

And please do not mind the goofing picture of mine greeting you… I am at best being funny.

Oiroegbu Halls