POEMS READ AT LOUDTHOTZ POETRY OPEN READING SEASON 9 EPISODE 8 ORDER

WINNER POEM OF THE MONTH - EMMANUEL IFEANYI

PYRRHIC VICTORY – poem of the month

Oh, Mother of Israel

Hear but forget the tune in my heart.

Though it sings melodies to the ears

 It thaws at my flesh with pains.

What sorrow shall we chant the day hope was born

When we know the blessing given was also a joy stolen?

Songs in adulation have turned bitter

They rouse grief from the voices made silent.

Oh Mother, your words as soothing as balm to the soul

Succor my heart from its trembling

Allow me this piece so that I live my peace.

The night slept too long

It held us captive in its slumber.

In a moment of awakening, we sigh

To the discovery of our hearts being pierced.

Hope set afire in a moment of conjugal bliss

Was razed to an outcry of communal indignity.

Hearts ebbed at the scars revealed

Tears welled at the grief revived

Cries roused at the sorrows inclined.

Dare we ask,

On whose order it was

That we'd be served tragedy

 In a sip of victory?

Oh, Fathers of the rising sun.

Your songs have become worn and vain

And the eulogies of the past remained distasteful to your youths.

You tell of progenitors of emblematic valor

To an offspring of problematic honor.

You speak of the nation that could have been

To a people with no place to belong.

Remind me of how hope died

And how despair survived in the face of moribund.

Sing to me of the sacrifices of ghosts past

And not the glory of the treacherous that live.

Does the sun not shine in the east

That timid clouds of darkness are your clarion call to war

And to arm the heart bitter with your delusions of doom?

The glory of the sky you have covered in mesmerized rage

And the fecundity of the soil you have poisoned in innocent blood.

Victory was a song too sour to relish                                                                                                                

Freedom was a bargain too costly to own

Redemption was a promise too false to belief.

Dare we ask,

On whose order it was

That we should dance to tragedy

 In a tune of victory?

Oh, Daughter of Igwetu

Sleep in the ocean of my tears.

Let it sail you ashore to the land of my fathers

Where your pledges has set thy soul ablaze

And thy honor is but an emblem of your bondage.

If disdain torments you to the recluse of afflicted shadows,

If reasons strays your ghost in lands of elusive reprieve,

Do not despair

For the king has sent fate a note to him who stole your last breath.

Tonight my ear tasted bitter air

As the cock crows to awake my mind to the order of fate

The day when songs from the Kakaaki’s blared victory

But was ripped apart at the thunder of a flaming god.

A dark knight stung thy heart and it became cold.

Joy left your soul and it sailed beyond.

You have served the lands that soiled your blood

And your vengeance shall be inherited by the incensed.

Dare we ask,

On whose order it was

That we'd be fed  tragedy

 In a banquet of victory?

Emmanuel Ifeanyi

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ORDINO DI RICHIESTA

A life was ordained to die

In the quest of ungodly threat

Where lives of the bereaved

Are entertained with strangers

Effected with much danger

Not considering their manger

But promoting the ranger

After a while...........

Ordino di dichiarazione

A sacrifice was pronounced to all

That were closer than a brother

Not even a rubber

But a curer with a sniper

Just as a bursar with a boxer

So was their earnings drained

Their lives were constrained

Leaving them in bondage

After a while.....

                                    

Ordino di alla perfezione

A member was consented with authority

To perform an oath of allegiance

Without looking at the religious drains

A decision was promulgated with ruins

To gain prosperity without a struggle

Not even a burgle for a burglar

Professing to the names of God

After a while..........

Ordino di desiderio

A weapon was appeased with nakedness

To perform a funeral rite of possession

Without looking at the religious implication

A profession was excreted with tongues

To proclaim the destinies of wards

Not even a kindred for a chicken

Calling to the wonders of brethren

 After a while....

Ordino di ricordo

A psalmist preached himself as a Rebuker

Soon, astrologers came in mighty chandler

Preparing the way of acceptance

To bury the dead in the land of deception

Where evil become a profound gratitude to their odds

Misrepresenting the dead icon in its curfew

UBONG ABASI EKPO

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DISS AND ORDER

She walks with her head in the stars 

Feet on the clouds 

And sits before the sun 

Casting a shadow on her younger sister 

Order 

Condescending order 

Lofty 

Hardly ever coming down to earth 

She Burrows with her head in the dirt, 

Feet underground 

Comes out at the dawn of moon 

Shaking everything her sister did inspire 

All embracing Chaos 

Dirty 

Never saddened by her meddling sister 

Two sides of a coin 

Both disorder 

Both order. 

Ogbe Oritsemisan

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LOSS

 1

There is an order to letting go

Acknowledge the pain

Submit to it daily

Mark your attendance at its feet

The pain will not be ignored

So acknowledge it

 2

There is an order to forgetting

Stare down your memories

They will flare up in anger

Sneak up on you on stealth steps

Tap you on the back

Mock you into remembrance

Stare them down

 3

There is an order to acceptance

Of loss

Receive the news

Try it on for size

Let it crawl up your back in small doses

Grant it admittance into your head

Welcome the buzzing

It means you are alive

Human

Receive it

4

There is an order to moving on

Receive the news

Acknowledge the pain

Stare down the memories

Move on

You have to

You will

Day by day

6

I am moving on

Kemibon

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WHERE CHAOS IS ORDER

ORDER!!

He screams! Calling on case three

While holding file twenty three

As three could not play

Twenty three finds its way

ORDER!

Making way through the human maze

For a man floating on blind praise

Ruling over men who are dazed

Disillusioned and lost in the corruption haze

ORDER!!

Surrounded by societal misfits

Offering us all a quick fix

Insanity rises above tree level

As they compete against the devil

Normal left town a long time ago

Yet we all know

Order is a Law back home

Where streets are not made of stone

ORDER!!

A non-negotiable word we must discern

Who will teach it? How will we learn?

Chaos is the order of our day

Yet we all must find a way

Some how, Some day

For it is not enough to just say

ORDER!

Erhio

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INCARCERATION.
(For the complainants of no action #9ja pipu)

We are the toothless dog of the loudest bark.

A thief knocked on our doors yesterday
And we scared him to welcome.

A furlong flying furray of our flesh
With a daunting protestation within our cottage apartments.

The nail of our toes ran a crippled line
On the cemented floor of a santuating sands...

We bark here in going away. We barked there in retreating forces of running home...

We have always been barking...
And to them this our barking is their backing. Our full back-up of their perfected forgetfulness manifestoes...

We are the one who let loosed Our closed doors
And they watches us to ridicule when rains of misrule pours on our pores poorly...
Their gifted currency of carnage ran out of our purses.
We pauses at play, we play at pauses.

Then we resumes our backing...
Then we reduces our barking...

And the man died in us
-We who kept silent in the face of
t
y
r
a
n
n
y. 

Abiodun Onatola

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TIME AND PROVIDENCE

1.

Time

A lame hope

A servant to the crow at dawn

And a master to the owl at dusks.

It yawns the cradle of nativity

But sighs the age of dusts.

By its wake the seasons grovel

By its slumber the reasons befuddles

Have you not seen the flames and the roses?

It is all written in the book of order.

'It is but a flame,' it says

A little glory but no lasting fame.

A season shall bud with promises bountiful

But like flickering hopes it ebbs into meagre want.

The luminance of stoking flames demises in crackling embers

For it primes only for the night but wanes in the morning.

'It is like a rose," the book says

A little innocence but no mortal essence

A reason shall extol with boundless disposition

But like intoxicating liquor it besmirches the foolhardy.

Hope mustered by the adroit tongue devises a ruination

For it prompts only by its perceptibility but bilks out on materiality

I have seen something further under the sun

That time may gift striding feet with swift

But the race it does not belong it to give.

That time may bless the fervent mind with knowledge

But the success it does not belong it to give.

Whether there be swift or knowledge,

Or there is none withal

The future is not to see

Whatever will be, will be

"Que sera," the book says,

"Que sera, que sera,"

2.

Providence

 A blind path.

A misguided trail at the heart of desiring

And a belligerent compass in the belly of wanting.

It moans therein the folly of a touch of flame

And clamours within it the joys of a percept of chasm.

By its telling the womb purges

By its quiet the bowels revolt.

Have you not heard of sentiments and of surmisals?

It is all written in the book of order.

"It is but a sentiment," it says

A little rootage but no promissory efflorescence.

A womb shall conceive with joys abundant

But like pangs of distress it exacerbates into dire survival.

Fervency devoted to sentiments crooks to vain beliefs

For it tickles only for the hearing but it begs scanty for a gospel.

"It is like a surmisal" the book says

A little part but no assuring whole

The bowels shall digest with sprightly resolutions

But like unwavering pellucidity it stirs putrid intent.

Purpose scripted on the papyrus of wishes will also scatter on winds of whims.

For it takes flight on wings of bird but stray to the wilderness of obscurity.

I have seen something further under the sun

That providence may gift valient arms with might

But the battle it does not belong it to give.

That providence may bless the dilligent with astuteness

But the riches it does not belong it to give.

Whether there be might or astuteness,

Or there is none withal

The future is not to see

Whatever will be, will be.

"Que sera," the book says,

"Que sera, que sera,"

Segun Peters

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IF TOMORROW YOU HEAR

That oduduwa in his quest for kola visited odogwu

Or that Dike lingered longer to satisfy his hunger in Amina's home.

If tomorrow you hear

That Sango struck the rock that once blocked the cute route that led to Amina's bed

If tomorrow you hear that the fear of the despair no longer linger within our hemisphere

If tomorrow you hear

That the once hostile has suddenly grown fertile

That mudy misty path that painted our mats brown no longer frown but smile

If tomorrow you hear and see these things

Know that the prayers long offered for equity and peace has been answered

The prayers made to Jehovah, Chineke, Eledumare, Ubangiji and other gods which constitute our source has reach a consensus and decided to rain the blessing of unity on us

They've decided to take away the fuss and curse of disunity, they now promote humanity:

The racial roof that once leaked has eventually been sealed.

If tomorrow you hear and see these things

Remember that sometimes ago a poets ink once conveyed this message

Of how that he found himself on a passage and ahead was a throng of souls; dancing, singing, merrying and living as humans.

If tomorrow you see these things,

Your soul should rise in appreciation first to the past and then to the present for they both deserve to be presented with presents and adorned with sweet smelling incense for a job well done.

But if today, you do not see that which I speak of,

If today the road seem tough and rough

Know that you have a path to play and until you begin to live and do things the right way tomorrow will remain stuck deep in today's marrow.

So, if tomorrow will come

We must first cease to ask the question: where are you from?

We must understand the place of character over federal character

Relationship over citizenship

And importantly, love over all.

So if tomorrow, I mean the day after today you do not see what I say

Know that you have a part to play and until you begin to live and do things the right way, "that tomorrow" will forever remain our goal stuck deep in today's soul.

KCPWESH

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I WAS IN CHURCH TODAY...

I was in church today

And the spirit moved

My fellow first-timer looks familiar

Very familiar

Could this possibly be coincident?

Or an occupational hazard

He too recognizes me and looks away

We have both turned out

As first timers

Three different churches

Three Sundays in a row

I hope like or unlike me

He’s here for ‘nwa maria’ and not the packs

Brother Jona, the fortnight worshiper was in church today,

Unusually early and not his usual polished self

He came with colourful business cards

And a testimony

"I have finally heeded my calling" he announced

After years of counting and keeping other people's money.

He is now the 'see we woe' of "He will do it again laundry and general cleaning service"

God forbids he was fired

The slay queens– baby mama's in waiting

were in church too

Please reserve three more seats

One for the Gucci bags

The other for the Victorian heels

And the last for the sophisticated beauties

With ambiguous mood swing

Do not challenge the preacher's calling

Whenever the spirit whispers

And he lay hands on you

Chant! Dramatize! And just fall!

Anything to confirm he’s anointed

The religious multitudes are here too

Muttering endlessly in various tongues, but the truth

"Mystery of the spirit" we call it

"For we know not what we say"

Yet we know what we say is not the truth

We all meet our expectations after all

While the congregation bask in the euphoria of spirituality

Echoing and falling apart

On every utterance of the pulpit

The preacher’s wife is mindful of her makeup falling apart

The visiting preacher up his honorarium

The GO realize he's due for a new jet

Special call!

Special seed!

Begot special blessings!

Indeed, I was in church today

And I left the spirit still

And moving unordered.

-Amami H.

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ORDER

The picture is ordered

Though not as a meal in 

a restaurant ala carte

But then again, why not?

The picture is ordered, 

not because there is no 

disorder in sight but 

because everything is 

otherwise ordered;

Like otherwise able or vertically challenged or general duties assistant, even kicked the bucket

All euphemisms  used to tell the permitted lie; 

to ameliorate our condition.

A road properly marked in double 

white stripes

A girl in a perfectly ordered lotus position seated demurely and diametrically on the point of the white lines right in the middle of the road

That has got to qualify as some kind of oxymoronic orderliness!

Counting her breathes

Living in the moment

Thinking possibly of the Dalai Lama 

or of nothing; 

of Nirvana or 

just the wracking ruach- 

who knows?

The order of a cenotaph.

Though it must be said that 

in these climes even that is not likely 

The pressing need is for order and  realignment of  systems of all stripes

Hopefully, not needing a Mussolini to keep the trains running or a Hitler,  

a Mao; a Ceausescu

Hopefully not, as the bugbear, 

the signature tune, 

the sign-on-fee for all despots is Order!

Not Curial order which is admirable; 

not the order and efficiency of maintenance by brute force

We have seen it in the previous incarnation

Others see it now- Rwanda, Eritrea!

Order, after the first laying down 

lacks creativity or intelligence 

and must be constantly renewed to maintain the edge that makes it meaningful; useful; desirable!

ANDREW WHYTE

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ORDER IS A WENCH'S SONG

STAPLE
She sighs quatrains for breakfast,
Her head lolls back,
In a metaphor of retirement,
She feigns a finger of grace,
But her staple is the devil's cross,
Dear Fair Lady,
Order is a mean rainbow,
Crested upon the dying angst
Of a Sigh,
Remember Marc Antony?
He ate phonemes
Upon a Lady killer's thigh,
What became of him?
Anarchy is no respecter,
Order is its Achilles,
But, a Wench's staple
Must drink the blood of
Asinine vassals.

STACCATO
We wake in the yawn of stars,
We watch our dreams become
Staples for a hungry wench,
Order has gone abroad,
The wench sips off the pain
Of posterity's miseries,
Her decadent sighs,
Cause a staccato,
Order is an orphan,
And,
Joy a widow of twilight's providence,
To my fair Lady,
I crave your mercies,
Let me die among the desolate lillies,
In there, I find redemption.

SIGH
A Wench's sighs.
Order and Anarchy seek audience,
To wit,
To my fair Lady,
I must kiss the sun's tears,.
And paint my pain,
Upon my beloved's bosom,
I relish the nectar of
Her staple,
Her love is my salvation,
For in her grace,
I write epitaphs to
A Judas God.
Teddy Ugonna Richard

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ET NON ERIT (LET THERE BE)

When we the peoples of the United Nations

Determined to save from war, succeeding generations

The labor room of 1945 became our only option

But 73 years down the line, we're still nursing

The dangling first half of an unbirthed seed

The deformed fruit of the labors of unfulfilled dreams

Our methods now appear void, and so we brood

Our world is soon without form, and so like God

We exchange the world in our sights for the world in our visions

And we speak, in unison, uttering three words:

“ET NON ERIT”

“Let there be”.

When we the peoples of the United Nations

Against the threat of global warming, take collective measures

We appealed to the higher courts of Thermodynamics

But 73 years down the line, we’re still threatened

Our universe is moving fast towards equilibrium

Spontaneously evolving till there is nothing in form

Our methods now appear void, and so we brood

Our world is soon without form, and so like God

We exchange the world in our sights for the world in our visions

And we speak, in unison, uttering three words:

“ET NON ERIT”

“Let there be”.

When we the peoples of the United Nations

Allies in the battle with rampant depression

We are compelled by sorry facts of mean statistics

But 73 years down the line, we’re still sorry

73 years down line, with our worries

300 million people on earth, still depressed junkies!

Our methods now appear void, and so we brood

Our world is soon without form, and so like God

We exchange the world in our sights for the world in our visions

And we speak, in unison, uttering three words:

“ET NON ERIT”

“Let there be”.

When we the peoples of the United Nations

Aware of the propensity for disorder embedded in nature

We are opposed by the second law of Thermodynamics

But on this day at the bottom line, I guess we’ve found it:

That we can create order amidst a disordered world

And we can have peace amidst chaotic tumults!

Our methods now appear void, and so we brood

Our world is soon without form, and so like God

We exchange the world in our sights for the world in our visions

And we speak, in unison, uttering three words:

“ET NON ERIT”

“Let there be”.

When we the peoples of the United Nations

In unison speak the words “Let there be”

How powerful can these three words really be?

To Let is to “Permit”, and to Be is to “Exist”;

So, everytime we speak these these words, we are permitting creation, 

And birthing order into nature.

For our methods have appeared void, and so we brood

Our world is soon without form, and so like God

We exchange the world in our sights for the world in our visions

And we speak, in unison, uttering three words:

“ET NON ERIT”

“Let there be”.

Tolu_NeoDaniel

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MEMORIES
Memories of you
flood my heart
like ocean on rampage
I am the hunter
returning home
mourning wasted bullets.

I walked with the thought
that we would last like Methuselah.

We fizzled as we started
too young to love,
words spoken
cannot now be retrieved.

We burn, we mourn
each on different path
cold on the surface like ice,
But within hearts melt with longings.

Julius Topohozin

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ORDER

Dear Captain,
You ordered we write on order
This very theme
I would like to explore because of its fluidity

Order I say!
Is it in court or,
Orderliness which I ordered or,
The one made online
Your tone may remain the same but your subject changes your meaning

Perfection is taken for granted because of its orderliness
The sounds and colours
Exuding from its unending cycle
Painting pictures
Grinding slowly and finely
But perfectly

Ifeanyi Okwosha