"OCEAN" WRITTEN AND READ BY BEEJAY AT LOUDTHOTZ POETRY OPEN READING SEASON 10 EPISODE 05 OCEAN

OCEAN!

Your hands wrapped me, in the cold mist that blocked out all sounds excepts our heartbeats

Beating to the same rhythm of pleasure that lay our body in waste and sweat with our moans.

It settled upon us emotions that rage fire within our bones, your hands roam all over the places and the tiniest tickles with passions like a fire ignited, we burn.

Swimming in the ecstasy of our body, joining in fusion and at the release of our cries,

We melted in the ocean of happiness and tightening embraces, we are one; body, and soul.

But tonight, memories are haunting me, haunting every inch of my body your hand once roamed, touched and awaken with shivers.

Is it safe to say I miss you or I am only hallucinating from the terrible cold bent on destroying my resolutions on home training? 

Beejay!

"RIFFING "MY HOME" BY BESSIE HEAD" WRITTEN AND READ BY ANDREW WHYTE AT LOUDTHOTZ POETRY OPEN READING SEASON 10 EPISODE 05 OCEAN

RIFFING " MY HOME" BY BESSIE HEAD:

My home is the ocean

It is a place where the wind does not blow

My heart rests there

It is a strange place

A funny place

All black, blue, dark, quiet

A place where the wind only blows on top.

Come and see

My oceanic home is a place where orders are not given

It's a moment of surprise

Two dark eyes smile wide open

It is something gentle that you don't know

It caresses your cheeks.

The ocean is a park in winter

A thin old man cramped on a park bench

A cold blue sky

It's a lonely place; a lonely space

A place where the wind does not blow.

The ocean is my home

It's somewhere far in the distance

It is a high wire tension,

dissolving the warm tenderness of love 

The ocean:

It is a cage

It is timid as the eyes of a trapped beast

It is priceless; defenceless

Valuable; valueless

Most welcoming; forbidding

When in there; in the ocean, tread softly- the walls breathe peace-

A deep, dark, black peace

In a place where the wind ruffles the surface

It is my house

I like it!

                          Part 2

Ocean the movie series

making money in waves

Ocean the singer creating waves and ripples of soft sibilance

Ocean the body of water incorporating it all; bursting boundaries and borders when fancy calls or dictates.

Plumbing the depths even on coastlines where there is no plumbing, only holes in the ground, only bore holes apart from those that make up the termite kingdom.

 Reflecting a reality where even after 50 plus years the beautiful ones are not yet born and the gods on the anthills are still to blame. 

The wealth of the nations is still carted and plumbed In primary fashion to the recycling reagents of the world and sent back to the consumers whose creative aspiration is to make pencils or maybe only the lead

The wood is carted away via the various oceans. 

Oceans as cinema, as mellifluous warblers, as transportation, as metaphor, as a Jungian picture of the inner psyche- Oceans work!

Plumbing and planing the depths of the ocean within called consciousness.

Super, un, sub, race, over

All loaded with stuff for consideration and contemplation like the lake called the sea, called the ocean, called dead- the richest, densest, most concentrated with value- place on the planet

Oceans 5 or 7 depending on who is counting!

Andrew Whyte

"WEIGHT LOSS" WRITTEN AND READ BY PAUL ILESANMI AT LOUDTHOTZ POETRY OPEN READING SEASON 10 EPISODE 05 OCEAN

WEIGHT LOSS

The bodies are scattered like sprayed money littering the floor.

“We condemn this act” they say.

“We will catch them” they cowardly boast,

“And we condole with the families”

“As you can see, we are working. Can’t you see that we are losing weight?”

Gibberish!

The memories are washed away over bottles of beers

Oh! The pain of some is a comic relief to others.

Who did they offend to be drowned in the pool of blood?

When are we going to sail through the waves of death?

Who will rescue us from this ocean of blood?

We swim in it every day.

Newsflash!

“This is to announce to you that Five hundred people have just been killed in a Bomb Blast”

They come again: “We condemn this act. We are working, as you can see, we are losing weight”

But they forget about it over bottles of beers.

Our mouths have gone sour

It has become our food and drink

We sit at the shore, crying,

Waiting for our beloved,

Who will save us from this ocean of Blood?

Paul Ilesanmi

"THE NIGHT" WRITTEN AND READ BY IFEANYI EMMANUEL AT LOUDTHOTZ POETRY OPEN READING SEASON 10 EPISODE 05 OCEAN

THE NIGHT

1. The night; bewitched with horror.

Of Eyes flooded with pellets of sorrows

Of flesh carved in bleeding letters

And souls frozen from the dreaded silence's breath. 

The gloomy skies spell my grief, muttering;

'T oday 

E yes shall cry

A nd men shall

R emember their departed 

S ouls.

Deep in the ocean of love lies burning candles.

Fade not, oh fade not.

For silent voices are loudest in secret chambers.

And loves dont die,  they sail.

Lingering  beyond to the abyss of nothingness.

For if there be a uniting hope

Then this tears will be my covenant to you.

The night; besotted with hope.

Of lips savoring the spice of reasons

Of breath clamoring the visage of hope

And sighs heaving the aspiration of a new dawn.

The silvery skies yearn my joy, urging;

'S prinkles of hearts

U nlocking wisdom to 

R espire the 

V irtues within and 

I ntrisical 

V im for being still, an

E xtant.'

Above the surge of ocean waves hangs threads of hope.

Live long, Oh live long.

For tearful divans are tranquil in stygian despair

And hopes dont fail, they die,

Slipping into the eye of turbulent vicissitudes.

For if there is a promise of love

Then this resolve will be my covenant to you. 

Ifeanyi Emmanuel

 

"QUAKE" WRITTEN AND READ BY JOY CHIME AT LOUDTHOTZ POETRY OPEN READING SEASON 10 EPISODE 5 OCEAN

QUAKE 

Some nights you are a lighthouse

But more often than not, 

you are wicked

whipping

weeping

wind,

turbulent crash of waves,

the persistent beat of sea on shore,

wooing the sand. 

I like to think the sea is letting out 

her frustration at not being able 

to pick up her abundant skirts 

and sashay onto land 

whenever and however far she pleases. 

She has to be content with flowing,

waving,

rising,

crashing,

rolling. 

Land is hard,

unyielding.

But you'd probably be, too,

if people fought and killed each other over you,

if, for every flower or tree that sprang out of you,

the blood, richly perfumed with youth,

of a child slain in peace time spilled on to you, in you,

if you heard rivers of life blood cry out for justice from inside you,

and the most you can do is amplify that cry,

but really,

you only listen helplessly.

Perhaps this is why the earth quakes sometimes:

it gets too much. 

It's the same inside you. 

Quake then, darling. 

Erupt in a wail,

wring the anguish and despair out of your soul.

Ride that hurricane.

Even better, dig into the core of it.

Put your finger on the pulse of it

and know why you quake.

Because to know a thing is to have power over it, right?

When next you quake, honey,

know why.

Joy Chime

"MYSTIC BEAUTY" WRITTEN AND READ BY SEGUN PETERS AT LOUDTHOTZ POETRY OPEN READING SEASON 10 EPISODE 05 OCEAN

MYSTIC BEAUTY

Like foamy crests

Racing to surface in euphoric thunders

Crashing on the resolute banks of nature

Shattering to oblivion in tendered whispers.

Like Ocean's crests

Joy soon languishes.

Like abyssal depths

Sinking to realms of unfathomable musings

Lost in stygian ignorance of the unsought

Buried in dusts that men may downtrod.

Like Ocean's depths

Truth is inhumed.

Like surreptitious waves

Charging like armies bloodied with rage

Consumed in tides of nature's will but unbent

Defeated often but soon to uprising, surely.

Like Ocean's waves

Tribulations are fated.

Like vast blue

Spread beyond the open of earth's four arms

Unredeemable in the vain want of the inglorious

Wallowing in awe of magnetic dilemmas.

Like Ocean's blue

Gloom is voracious.

Like existential enigma

Cravings mortal quests but lacking meaning in pursuits

Fiddling mortal instincts but shielding from insight

Addling mortal significance to justify its breadth in awe.

Like Ocean's enigma

Purpose is abstruse.

Like mystic beauty

Making profound art by the brushes of err'd strokes

Giving feathers flight on a cushion of turbulent winds

Cradling creation tales from the empty of abyss' depths.

Like the Ocean

Life is beautiful.

Segun Peters

"AWAKE" WRITTEN AND READ BY ERHIO AT THE LOUDTHOTZ POETRY OPEN READING SEASON 10 EPISODE 05 OCEAND

AWAKE

I wanted to be a stream

A stream with a happy bubbling heart

Spreading joy along my path

Assuaging the thirsty along my way

Sharing drops of love each day

Such a happy dream

But I didn't become that stream

Instead for years I was a pond

Though struck with so many arrows

I kept mute and refused to respond

Run! said my friend the Sparrow

But I stayed 

My heart in total disarray

I allowed the hills lock me in

For loneliness was not a sin

To partnerships I turned blind

Playing them all out in my mind

To others I seemed uncaring

But I knew I was just not daring

Afraid to fall

Afraid to lose it all

Until one day it rained

Heavy pelts hit me till I was drained

No longer self contained

I opened up and began to glow

Then I began to flow

I became a river

A natural giver

At times I needed to receive to keep moving on

Either way I danced along

I became friends with the sun

The stars knew me by name

When the arrows came

I adjusted and flowed calmly on again

Wandering over field after field

My heart now covered by a shield

I knew where I belonged

I could sing happy songs

I sang till the river became a vast sea

As wide as the heart could see

No longer would I dream

Of becoming a stream

Or stay like a despondent pond all day

Or like a river just wander away

I became an ocean vast and deep

With only a few discovering the treasures I keep

As my waves bubbled to the shore

My heart opened up more and more

Calling out to the dry stones and sand

Hoping one day they will understand 

Every smile

Had crossed miles

Every word

Sharpened by a sword

I stood in the vineyard of the Lord

No longer asleep

But as a tiny ocean vast and deep

Erhio

WORTHY OF MENTION POEM OF THE MONTH WRITTEN AND PERFORMED BY KEMI BON AT LOUDTHOTZ POETRY OPEN READING SEASON 10 EPISODE 05 OCEAN

KEMI BON -WORTHY OF MENTION WINNER

MEET ME AT THE RIVER  - worthy of mention

Meet me at the river
Where the azure of the sky is reflected in the face of the waters

Meet me at the river
Where the trees stand close
Bowing their heads in the wind
Whispering like best friends at a wedding ceremony 
Exchanging notes on the beauty of the bride

Meet me at the river
That flows through our fertile land
Meet me where the river forks
And bids farewell to all who seek its blessing

Meet me at the river 
Where lovers gaze into eyes that swim with adoration 

Meet me at the river
Dear one
That we may render promises 
Of forever to our heart’s content

Meet me at the river
Where maidens bathe at midnight
Beseeching the gods for fertility and lasting love

Meet me at the river
My darling 

Meet me where the footsteps fade into the soft Sand at the shore
Where children love to play and dance to the sounds of the night
Children
Who walk fearlessly towards the waters with majestic steps
Longing for the warmth of the river long heated by the rays of the sun 

Meet me at the river
That we may hold hands
Stare into the pale milky fullness of the moon
And tell tales of our first meeting 

Meet me at the river
Meet me at the river
Meet me at the river 
that love may put us to sleep in its sweet embrace.

Kemi bon

POEM OF THE MONTH BY IFEANYI OKWOSHA READ AT LOUDTHOTZ POETRY OPEN READING SEASON 10 EPISODE 05 OCEAN

IFEANY OKWOSHA (left) WINNER POEM OF THE MONTH

I Know a River – Poem of the month

I know a river,

No, not a river,

A different body of water

Flowing through veins

Its purifying movement holds living fire

I remember that river in Aba

Where I learnt how to swim

Waterside we called it

We never asked its mother its real name.

We should have

If we had, maybe when I call now

It will answer.

I know a body of water.

Uhamiri whose mother is Ogbuide

They call her Oguta lake

That’s where I call home

It has a story whose beginnings

I do not know

But I know a story around it

And its neighbour Urashi the Niger.

The story of a broken courtship,

Of a separation

That to this day is a wonder

A love story with thorns

If you paddle across either side

You dare not call the other by its real name.

Ifeanyi 0kwosha