ONE
NIGHT – POEM OF THE MONTH
One night of bliss
Where two hearts became one
At the strike of a full moon.
One night of peace
Where streets are cold and empty
And all you could hear on trees
Are whispers from evening breeze.
One night of flavours
Where one spoon scoops ice with cream,
Two eyes gazed at one scene
As their hands graced one bag of corn
Committed in a way not yet known.
One night wrapped with kisses,
Where love captured the skies
As two glasses where raised by the stroke of
champagne,
One night one stage
Where group of young lovers
Danced to the rhythm of sweet melodies.
One night shining like golden rings
As broken hearts rested on each other wings,
One night of perseverance
As tears was wiped by assurance,
One touch, one feelings
One moment that lasted forever
As one voice says “forever” to a diva.
GODWIN
MAC-JUMBO (Poet)
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KING
King
No
crown yet
Vain
Sayers like owls
Hold
nocturnal deliberations
Members
of Parliament
A
brood of serpents
Walking
about standing erect
Homo
sapiens
Making
a home of serpents
The
bottle of oil still lies there on the ground
Emptied
on my head
Before
they snatched the Priest
Kingmaker
Electing
their kind as King
With
the remnant in the bottle
They
anoint his head
Dry
anointing
Their
jar of oil still sits in the chamber
That
unworthy place yet called hallowed
Blackened
oil
From
worm eaten olives
Putrefaction
Attracting
nothing
Save
insane flies
Seeking
for a pool to drown in
I
keep the priest’s girdle
They
make ring of mandrakes
Around
the waist of their priest of volition
These
clinking bells announce the advent of doom
When
men upstage gods
The
gods indulge men with drinks of delusion
Poured
from their jars
Brews
of ire
I
stand and watch
King
My
time shall come
When
the men are drunk
From
the cups of gods
When
they choke from their puke
Their
priest will cease to walk
And
the clinking bells go quiet
And
the dogs howl all night for want of care
King
The
time is now
I
emerge
My
coat of colours adorned
The
priests girdle in hand
I
get him from the pit
Dungeon
In
which he’s been hid
All
the months he’s gone missing
The
gods gird strength into him again
On
a platter
A
damsel bears the crown
Refined
gold and fine stones
Pure
and cold
Welcome
to the crowning
The
unveiling of a King
Witnessed
by babies
My
crowning
In
the parliament of gods
©Chukwuemeka June 11,
2015
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MISSING MISSING!
That
is easy.
Easy
to categorize and catalogue.
Not
so easy to cauterize and cleanse.
The
girls in Sambisa.
The
ones we have been asking for, waiting for, looking and longing for.
We
asked the Government of the day to bring them back.
Some
directed their ire at Shekau.
We
are still asking.
We
are still waiting.
Not
forgetting the boys, the men , the women.
The
entire communities swallowed up- missing.
All
they wanted- better equipment, better logistics, better Generals.
For
their pains- missing.
Their
lives, limbs, liberty and leverage.
We
ask for their lives and liberty.
Bring
back our boys- our soldier boys.
Loose
those men and let them go with honor.
Missing
monies in the black hole.
The
black hole that is the alphabet soup leviathans that run our black gold.
The
holes so black, so deep that the counters have lost count.
In
their confusion is conflict not of laws but of numbers.
Missing
votes.
Missing
pensions.
Missing
windfalls and fall outs of wars- Gulf wars.
Missing
dividends of democracy.
Missing
husbands romancing mistresses.
Missing
fathers engulfed in the rat race.
Missing
women attacking the great Bastille walls of Patriarchy.
Swallowing
elephants and straining at gnats.
Missing
targets because setting up straw man scenarios.
Missing
the point which is to live , to love, to learn and to leave a legacy.
Missing
Mandela and Lee Kuan Yew.
Leaders
without pettiness, without small mindedness.
Missing
the mark- which is the meaning of sin.
Embroiled
in peccadilloes that do not advance the cause.
Missing
a sense of shame.
Missing
the big picture!
MISSING
Who said my daughter was missing?
We wouldn't find her replica... anywhere
She wasn't in school...not at her sister's creche
She wasn't there...I mean nowhere
Maybe it's nothing to ponder on anyway
We looked for her everywhere
Who saw her...my sister's daughter?
All we found here was her teddy bear
Oh God dear!!! where is my daughter?
What do you mean you don't know?
I left her with you this morning
Could she be missing, stolen or taken
Taken to where...the unknown destination
Someone must have taken her
But to where?
My sister became caged like a bird without a beak
She couldn't cry nor laugh
Her eyes swollen like she's dead alive
As we speak...she was working slowly off us
Barefooted and with her head gear loose
Before we know it...she was on the other lane
Soliloquizing only to herself and the gods of the
land
Reality knocked us all at once
Get hold of her now before ... we all chorused
As we reach out to her... her smile spoke in French
It was a language we understand not
She suddenly changed direction towards the East
It was a midnight black evening
With no sun speaking to the moon
She became a mother without a child
No one at all for her to breast-feed
No sob of a child for her to dry off
Alayande Stephen T.
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THIS
MOMENT
Ambitions be still
Least I miss this
moment
That will be lost
forever
Never to be regained
Achieving material
goals
I missed your first
steps
Lost opportunities
Now we are strangers
If not foes
I live for work
Applauded for
achievements
With every achievement
A higher goal is set
today
Only to face a greater
failure tomorrow
In this never ending
vicious cycle
Lifeless institutions
Have taken my life
Grumbling
Pressure
Tension
Hypertension
Stroke
Nothing is left
A burden
A disturbance
A home for my kind
Ifeanyi Okwosha June 2015
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MISSING
Like the dust misses the early rain
You made me
Leaving no drop to quench
The thirst of this purebred
You never stoop to consider
The wants of this strain
But for the love of the Most High
Yet you made me
A life apart from the purebred
With no care in the world
You took away my bloom
Leaving this miss with
Baggage of a grown woman
Here, like the desert trogon
I await the love and care of my flesh
The unity of my soul
The noise and silence of my heart
Here, I am
Missing the seed
That ought to be sown and ripped
Missing the name calling
Missing the name changing
Missing and missing
Yet hoping for the mystical union.
CHRIS 'N'
JOHN
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MISSING
YOU
I see you in my mind's eye, the
Versace markings on your green
Feathers as you flap by, lazy
Like Serendipity's mom
I watched you fall
Off the bottle
neck
Through the barbed wires
And crumble into a giant meat ball
Before you became the
Green butterfly in my mind's eye
Whose green Versace feathers flapped by
Lazy like Serendipity's mom
I finally saw your face again when
You turned around,
Pucker-faced like
A living corpse to look
At the imaginary stranger at
The Sarmakand in my mind's eye
I recognize you now my love
Your puffed eyes- as you tried
To smile at me, pucker-faced like
A living corpse. Even in death
They are wise, your eyes
I see them as you flap by like
The green Versace butterfly in
My mind's eye.
I realize I need you now
My Versace green butterfly
I need you for the magic
And I mean it. I need
You to make me a millionaire
In one minute. I need you
To watch over your niece too
My little purple butterfly, with the
White polka dotted feathers
Sprinkling her gold dusts of magic
Everywhere she went.
She visited us
Briefly for a couple of weeks
A miracle in tiny pouch
We called her Serendipity,
She got angry, volatile tempered
Like her mom and left
In a dark red gust
Through her mom's thighs
I love you both my lovely butterflies
I love you just the way that
You are. Pucker-faced like
A living corpse; beautiful
Like a dead angel.
AN N.
AMOS
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PRISON
The sound of unending silence
Absence
Science
A rigid cadence
The cold grip of loneliness
Armless
Emptiness
Bringing strange anxiousness
The crude smell of corruption
Ambition
Convictions
Unasked unanswered questions
Dreams washed upon a bay
Disarray
Far Faraway
Feeling somewhat betrayed
Feeling alone
Bone....
ERHIO
OBODO
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MY VOICE
My vote
is my voice they say
My
voice like my vote don’t matter I know
My vote
like my ego is priced like a thing
My
voice shouting since yesterday
But
still missing today
Grief demands
and answer
But
there is non
Do not
underestimate the evil of gold
Do not
over price the power of good
Loyalty
sold for pennies
While
integrity is still missing
CHISOM
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MISSING
Eyes
red
Thoughts
weird
Eyes
strained
Hearts
Pained
My
thoughts gone too far again
A jolt
brought me back to life again
Zarah
calls
Time
for dinner
How did
we find ourselves here?
From
one issue to another
Bombings
from Kubwa to Baga
More
than 400 days ago
More
than 200 girls taken by our foe
Illegally
I heard
it was
A
little later
The
story of the stolen billions came to be told
I
longed for Ibadan
A city
I belonged
Shiny
new roofs in a sea of brown elders
The
land of my ancestors
A
diaspora of sorts for now
And why
not
When it
takes as long to get to London
Even
Accra will not take as long by air
Amala
and its attendant abula
I miss
a lot
To
visit Abuja is now a pain
Save
for if you have a bank to break
To go
by road
The
less expensive approach
Is to
risk your life to accident or the outlaws that lie in wait to rob
Now we
stay within our domain for fear
Of what
may happen when we move
Now we
have a man proclaiming to come with change
But
with what experience has taught
His
change will not come
Unless
he learns why hiss all the time
He
needs to learn the point
They
one they always miss when they come.
ILUPEJU
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THOSE RAINY DAYS
Those
rainy days that bring
Nostalgic
scents of hot akara*
When
the distant voice of
Mother telling
tales by moonlight
Tickle
the ears of a sleeping child
Sending
him to faraway lands
Where
time is measured
In fast
forward
When
the gutters fill up rapidly
And
spew
As the
cabal crumbles
And
expectations high slowly
Find
descent
Those
days long
Spent
in longing
Those
days
Long
Ago
When
contentment
Was
And joy
inpenetrable
By
selfish desiring
Abides
Days
longed for
Wished
for but lost and trampled in
Outrageous
wickedness
Rainy,
teary,
Ones
shrouded in misery
These
Are the
days of lives present… past
*Bean
cake
KEMIBON
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HUNGER
Oh
Child, do not cry
Yourself
to Sleep
There
is more love
to
bread and gain
Do not
think
Of the
troubles of tomorrow
They
are meant
To pass
by as you wish
Be
brave
Conquer
your fears
They
are empty
As
chaff to grain
Hunger
throbs the heart
Yours
and Mine
OLUWEMIMO BONUOLA
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MIXING
There
is something I am mixing
There
in the mortar of my mind
I can feel
the pestle of love
Pounding
all the ingredients that fill it up.
There
goes in the steaming pain
Thumping
hard at my chest bone,
There
goes in the affection
An
ingredient more potent than a love portion
Can
someone fill the jars with the tears of a damsel?
I meant
one who had been tutored by humility,
I need
those to fill what I am mixing?
I am
mixing you
Even
when I still hide under the shade of pun
I am
mixing you
Even
when I am still to know you.
Just
bring me Joy,
Bring
me chunks of determination,
Do not
forget the tooth of perseverance
And the
hair of wealth.
I am
mixing something in the mortar of my mind,
I won’t
forget to add the leaves of love.
I am
mixing you
Even
when I hide under the shade of pun.
MUYIDEEN AYINLA
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EHMM…
He
says…
Your
milky smile completes
your
chocolate attire;
just
the portrait of your mean visage
wakes
my slumbering pen
Missing
from your temple so long
So
longing for the incense of your kisses
My ink
matches towards your white with colorful boots
like
sickles salivating for bountiful fruits
Let me
pamper you
With a
world beyond these carefully picked roses of words…ehm ehm
Please
continue
O,
fondler of lyrics
Caress
me with the palms of your stanzas
So I
can fill what is missing…
She
said.
Ehmm…he
says.
AYOKUNLE OMOYENI
