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| WINNER POEM OF THE MONTH MISAN OGBE |
LIFE (poem of the month)
What
is life, that you are mindful of dust
What
is the importance of breathing dust
That
you are not allergic to us
It
seems we are cut short
The
moment we begin to rise
Dust
particles we settle back to the earth that was stirred up by your breath.
You
put eternity in our hearts, a substance our forms cannot hold.
We
are Clay - earthen vessels hiding treasures too immeasurable to bear.
We
are like piggy banks, our end is to be broken,
Our
outsides but a token
Yet
strangely in this we find hope.
For
in our brokenness, a glory shines out
We
- Partakers of a beauty costlier than ours
Our
life's aim is to service,
Propelling
fellowship with oars on this ocean of time.
To
fish
Hook
souls in this timeline
With
visions of forever
Broken
vessels, made complete in hope faith and love
In
a shattered world, restoring,
The
very virtue we have been stripped off
Our
threadbare lives clothing
Our
broken bodies healing
Fractured
hearts reconciling
Our
deaths portraying life worth living
And
This is life
To
glory in the destruction of our flesh
To
smile at impending death
For
the glory that resides in these jars of dust and spit
Would
only be seen when our eyes see past the earth into eternity
Ogbe Oritsemisan
///////////////////////////////////////
TO
THE 'REBELS' THAT TRIED:
I, human, was always willing
Willing to be reasonable
Till they drove me to be unreasonable
I offered olives to seize the hands that tugged at me
But the same dug all five of his free hands into my bare chest
To claw out what is within
Now to me peace is indigestible
I told myself:
"Sometimes reasonable men must do unreasonable things"
Knowing that the path up is always the path down
When will you raise your fists dead seeds?
Can you not foresee
what awaits you when you are truly grown?
You will see that the door is most tight-shut when it seems most
open,
That we are condemned to dying more than to death
Nightmares can boast only if my eyes are closed and they are
open
I must put off fancies
and abstractions
I am older now.
Charles Sweet
///////////////////////////////////////////////////////
THE LIVING IS EASY
Life
is for living
Though
out of it comes the dying
The
living is easy or at least that is what we hope for
To
live in our living and not just to exist or pass through or occupy space.
That
is both aspirational and inspirational.
And
while on the subject of life and living, to love also, to learn and to leave a
legacy, thus accomplishing the Coveyan quartet that define mission and
vision.
The
living is easy especially if we understand that the law that rules is not that
of the pressure cooker nor the quick fix but the law of the farm where things
happen by natural process and not by enforced crisis.
The
living is easy when we dwell on the other side of complexity
A
place where things are only as simple as they are without being simplistic and
without denuding them of needed complexity and integratedness.
Like
a man loving his wife
A
woman fitting in with her man inspite of "amanda"
A
child honouring her parents
A
parent refraining from exercabating, irritating and annoying the child.
An
employer realising that the eyes of God are watching him
An
employee eschewing eye service
A
government serving the people
Not
defenestrating their patrimony
A
people subject to good governance
All
simple, nothing simplistic
All
working with the requisite degree of complexity, making the living easy; making
it happen
Just
like faith!
Andrew White
//////////////////////////////////////////
LIVING
We
are sieged by colonizers from the land of the dead;
Men
long gone, but who through ideologies, lord over us yet.
Show
me your ruler, and I'll tell you what you are, friend,
Are
we really living when we are ruled by dead men?
Our
ancestors were victims of a life lost and never found,
For
on that day they ate of knowledge, they & death ‘came forever bound.
And
out from the loins of Zombies, aren’t we at best stillborn?
Are
we really living when we are born by dead men?
The
land of the living may yet be anxious for our discovery,
For
are we really living when we live as dead men?
Tolu
Daniel
//////////////////////////////
A
SWORD, A SWORD
Drawn by
the warrior
Ready to
be used in battle
And to be
stricken by a thunder
Despite
false visions concerning them
And lying
mysteries to come
It will be
done on the battlefield
Of the
strongest man in Babylon
Whose
strength can’t be destroyed?
Whose
power can be exchanged with?
Of the
warfront
Return the
sword to its crimson
In the
place where no man can find it
In the
land of your adversary
I will
judge you
I will
pour out my ruins upon you
And chase
out my inner wizardry against you,
I will
give your bones to the hungry dogs
The dogs
that have not been fed
You will
be put out for shame
Your blood
will be spread across the land
You will
be forgotten like waste paper
For I, the
king have spoken
A sword ,
a sword
Drawn for
the slaughter
Polished
to consume
And to
flash like lighting
Despite
false visions sustaining you
It will be laid on the necks
Of the
wicked who are to be slain,
Whose day
has come?
Whose time
of punishment has reached its climax?
Return the
sword to its throne
In the
place where you were created
In the
land of your ancestry
I will
judge you
I will
pour out my ruins upon you
And
breathe out my fiery anger against you
I will
hand over you to brutal men,
Men
skilled in destruction
You will
be fuel for the fire
Your blood
will be shed in your land
You will
be remembered no more
For I ,the
king have declared
Ubonabasi
Ekpo
///////////////////////////////////////
‘Peur
de Vivre’
Raised with Hitler’s Rod and
Thatcher’s words,
Birthed a hairless Samson
blinded in Delilah’s deceit,
Here was a juggernaut in a
snail shell,
Broken in pieces like a
tortoise shell,
Will the broken pieces be
stronger than Captain America Shield?
Will there be Superman
Crested Hope to anchor on?
His heart already was
scorched by heat of greed and lust,
Which made is heart of dove a
resting place for the Serpent,
Even the Devil was awed by
the wickedness in his heart,
His breathe rages Dragons
fire,
His waves were violent storms
of betrayals.
His lying roars shames the
Great Lion of the jungle,
His Chameleon ways are a
lesson for the Snakes,
He is a beast that feeds on
the weak.
I wonder what would be left
of his home,
As smoke laden fear fills the
air,
We are all drunk in his
venomous drinks he has prepared for us,
Our breakfast was chops of
deceit,
Lunch was rice of compromises
and stew of terrors,
And supper was morsels of
blood soup,
Yet we go on eating and
drinking at his place.
You said I should write on
living,
But I’m scared about him
living.
He has done more harm alive
than dead,
I'm ‘Peur de Vivre'.
@Akinyemi
Akinmusire aka Asapen
///////////////////////////////////////////
LIVING: LIFE WITHOUT RAINBOWS
Despair is a
metaphor’s companion,
He is an ever
present
Knight in six
degrees of misery;
An encore would
suffice for this enjambment,
On the sweet
poetry of life,
Living becomes
a recluse’s wan song,
Coffee and tea
breakfast with endearments of serendipity,
And Living
becomes an orphan child amid the
Theater of
forlorn successes,
Where life has
no rainbows.
© Teddy Ugonna Richard
/////////////////////////
THE
TODAY'S PEOPLE
We pray
for bread and wait on flatwares of stones to quiet our cravings.
We ask for
vine and thirst on wineskins of water to merry our gloom.
We hope
for the sake of a future and arouse demons to keep wake on our fate.
We toil
our lands in tears and reap for our sweat thorns in the flesh.
There is a
heaven not grasped because we hear our silence when it speaks
And so we
will not kiss dust but we inspire rancid air to the marvel of heaven's grace.
There is
freedom not basked because we trade our souls when we come to bargain.
And so we
beg no more than a dime but we extol lamentations to the perspicacity of
freedom.
So we dine
and wine from our short end of the straw with garlicky grin
And we
sleep and dream from our bed of sorrows with troubled peace.
But for
how long will death throes be made of our want to suspire providence' endue?
And for
how long will dirges be made of our want to howl liberty's melodies?
Segun
Peters
///////////////////////////
60
SECONDS
Take a
breathe between time's ticking tale
Experience
the nature of self in the 60 second trail
Then you
will see the theory that nurtures everything is plain.
Hope is
delivered of a dying promise;
It is
the mark of every second attained.
Botheration
is begotten of a plaguing idleness;
It is the quiet of every time detained.
For time
belabored is treasures gained.
And time
suppressed is prospect pained.
While the
clock counts 60 for the minutes of our time
We forget
to count 60 breaths for the moments of our lifetime.
Ifeanyi
Emmanuel
///////////////////////////////////
UPON
OUR DEAD
Cry the
soul of the living
Where can
we hide our naked mess in the open?
Aren’t we
all dead already?
If the
heart is so cold
Plucking
seedlings blind to the agony of the branch
When
Where
Do we bud?
Even if we
have survived
Color!
Gender! Tongue! And Creed!
When,
where do we bud?
Aren’t we
all victim
Dead or
alive?
-Amami Henry.
///////////////////////////
Together
But
the bundle of joy keeps us apart
Together
The
cries of necessity rends our world
Together
Yea
the toothless grin of innocence shatters our happiness
We're
stuck in this oven together
And
in this pavilion we remain
Till
the face of purity manifests
It's
a season of living to leave
Being
married and staying married
Are
opposite sides of same coin
Fred Flows
//////////////////////////////
RUNNING
BACKWARDS
A cloud
had gathered behind my eyes
As
neighbours pelt their good wishes
But my
father, single-minded and set
Balanced
me on that heaving sky-blue Suzuki Moblet
They don’t
make them anymore, do they?
“we are
leaving for a new living” he declared
Like a
lamb herded to the shearer’s shed
slicing
through fluffy labyrinth of time
rattling
and protesting the bumpy road
my father
rode this Moblet; old faithful
held
together father and son. My old world and
its
streets rushing past: houses, trees I had climbed,
as if
running backwards is the way forward,
We arrived
sooner than I expected, father and son
Welcome
to St. Kizito, an indomie-painted signboard
read
Suddenly,
two mildly smiling boys untied my box,
hoisted it
on my head and ordered me through the gates.
Then, my
father left … and anguish exploded on my lips.
@Achile Enemaku Umameh
////////////////////////////////////////////
THE BEAST AND THE EATER
Out
of the beast came the eater.
The
crowned terror, of steel frame and stony heart,
Shut
from the sun and the passing of time,
Laid
still and moribund in perpetual darkness,
Crumbling
to the nimble bites of vermin
And
spineless maggots of insignificance
In
the cold cryptic world of the one-room chamber.
Wrestled
out of breath and glory,
The
crowned terror, of intimidating clout and presence,
Sucked
into the vacuum of time and nothingness,
Like
a chaff blown into the wind and lost,
Towering
size and height immaterial they become
When
the fire upholding the spirit is flickered off,
Out
of sight and into fading memories consigned.
In
utter darkness and stillness,
The
crowned terror, of beastly nature and predatory,
Ripped
of armour and clothed with dust,
A
defenceless prey to the nipping teeth of the eater
Lay
invalid with no might and brute strength to call upon,
No
might and brute strength as shield and weapon
When
the dark angel with his icy hands wields the scythe.
Adeoya
Adetoba
////////////////////////////////////////
LIVING
Let these lives led by these lords live
Lost, in lush lust laid these lords lead
Depth’s deep dig deeper to find us
Where we are and we call it living
These lords substitute knowledge for
Ideologies
The never agree on the answers but on the
question “who will lead”
They think if they give us wings that we will
fly too close to the sun
We give them power and they think they are
meant to rule for ever
We prophesy and they say we sow fear for the
future.
We thought it could never get worse because
We have hit rock bottom
Well we have discovered the edge of the abyss
Yet we will keep on living.
Chisom
/////////////////////////////////////
I AM DEAD...
Oi baptizo me noi
huperton nekron
I was dead when I met him
and I died a second time
at his feet that day.
I am dead:
To sin. To sickness. To Death. And
all the trappings
of man's existence
on Earth. Baptized
as it were, for the dead.
What you gaze upon now is
a hologram of the Prototype,
projected by faith
in the Sun of Righteousness
and empowered
by the Spirit of Life.
DOKTUH FEeL
