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| WINNER POEM OF THE MOTH - SOONEST NATHANIEL |
First Gong – (poem of the month)
(for
the rebels)
against our wish, we get on a journey no one knows,
on our tongues the bitter taste of goodbye.
i begin the sojourn a boy forced into a man
on my mind the empty swing from which I was plucked;
it still goes to and fro awaiting the child in me,
the one who is long gone, the one who will never return.
i am Ijendu, man of dust seeking to give laughter full of
bubbles
for all the troubles that plague the troubadours;
but there are logs of history that the child’s mind cannot axe.
they lie to say death still has power over youth.
single slave, I, incarcerated in many prisons; remember me?
doe-eyed kid standing with his mother in your street wearing the
smile of graves.
you need not ask the ritual question, the three markings on my
palms are answers.
i did not write this script, fate has a twisted mind, derives
pleasure from our burdens;
life. so sweet. time. no more.
there was no time for closing ceremonies, no time to ask:
do the dead go hungry too? what currency do ghosts trade in?
now the dogs and the underdogs mope in resilience,
hungry but not angry; the body keeps rumbling in its blood,
ours is the gift of tears, the statues have refused to speak.
but to the arsonist and fire-fighters in hell my message is
short
and my prayers are as vindictive as they burn.
may satan be the wicked’s only companion; no light. no cameras.
action!
let noxious words grow wings fly about like scalar quantities
let me be safe with mathew and mark luking at john.
nene says every wrinkle tells a story but there are stories we
should never tell
like how abali ingests ohuda and how hope flies away on ubochi’s
wings.
the children do not nurse wild goose ambitions anymore,
things that matter have no weight and occupy space no more.
finally, the day has come, to exploit the goldmine
beneath the terra firma of human existence,
no faith in the lines of battles drawn, no god in these lines of
poetry,
but with these mere words, a new generation will make god in
their own image.
Soonest
Nathaniel
////////////////////////
IT'S
HAPPENING – (worthy
of mention)
I remember the stories
Stories filled with warnings
Warnings our ancestors tried to give
Every proverb pregnant with meaning
Every story a vision received
Yet we have arrived
For these are 'The Times'
When a tortoise no longer considers it's shell a haven
When the fish can't trust the sea
When a slave ship seems like an escape route
Hmmm
The earth is enveloped in fear
Despair
Uncertainty
And suspicion abound
Trust has been murdered
Belief crippled
Mouths proclaim faith
Yet Hearts silently quake
These are the times described in books of old
Rumours and wars are our daily news
Killings and deaths the latest cruise
Evil is such a norm
That people no longer squirm
Instead they proclaim
"It could have been worse"
Very dangerous times
Yet resigned to our corners
We lock our doors
Switch off our TVs
And like ostriches we hide
Refusing to stand
Refusing to change
Refusing to listen
Refusing to believe
That these times are real.
Call it whatever name you like
A bad egg will always smell
Heaven will always be far from hell
These times are shady
Yet maybe my eyes have rose colored lenses
For I can see
Smiling faces
Parties
Celebrations
Commissionings
No remorse
No regard
Yet I can't see the golden calf
So maybe my view is torn in half
Maybe nothing is wrong
With what's going on
Maybe it's just me
Maybe.
These times...hmmm
Erhio
///////////////////////////
THE CLOCK IS TICKING
The clock is ticking
The hour of twelve is here
Tick, tock, tick, tock it goes
Glasses are shattering
Walls are caving in
The earth is quaking
Sorrows, panicking, fears, deaths
Uncertainty, unforeseen threats, heavy clouds everywhere
Humanity on the verge of total collapse
Tempers are rising
People seeking justice
Cry of wants
Cry of needs
We see everyday
Grateful hearts are less and less
Giant strides are gone
Replaced with anger, causes and bitterness
The land is bleeding
Rights trampled on
Shamelessness is now our face
Insatiable wants our partner
Good deeds are now laughable
Minds are filled with evil
Lift up your heads my people
Lift up your hearts
The journey to freedom comes with equity
Loneliness will remain if change is not embraced
It is a long road to freedom
Walk we must or perish we shall
Choose the best walk
Freedom or death
The clock is ticking
Tick, tock, tick, tock.
Chika Nnamani
//////////////////////////////////////
THESE TIMES
The
Family, the Man, the Pen,
Owe
to fellows,
Basking
in the sojourn of now,
Set
for history,
Tongues
manifold,
The
posterity of fairness
The
Man looked at the family in the face saying
“You
who represent my societal nucleus
You
who represent my past
As
gift for the present
A
candidate for a pleasant future
Have
lived so long! So long!!
In
the city of speculations”
“You
who gave me my first innocent smile,
You
who in many instances,
Gave
me my first set of loved ones
Shall
be the slave of hearsay no more
The
Family replied the man
“You
whom the Creator gave me as fruit
Divinely
endowed, thou are,
Yet
thou had sowed a seed not
Wallowing
in the temporal safety of rumours
Had
planted not in the fertile soil of reality”
The
Man wielding the shield of admonishment
Looked
at the Pen in the eyes
Saying
“You
whose power in scribbled ink lies
Had
let the temporal lines of hearsay
Become
thy ephemeral copies of reality
Have
you ever considered the side effects?
On
the civil populace,
on
service men and service women alike?
Let
the narrow path of truth be thy road”
If
the Family, the Man and the Pen are fallible,
When
will their perceptions be one?
Olumide Soyemi
////////////////////////////////
THIS TIMES
In
these days of haste
Survival
is in the genes of every living molecule
Groveling
underground searching for happiness
Heaven
becomes an illusion
Darkness
have evaded daylight
And
the air around us is thick with its scent
As
we make our future in every moment
Every
grain of corn is multiplied
So
is every thought
Every
word and deed
That
is Nature
The
nature of things
Things
that changes
Indicating
the constancy of change
The
clarity of our blindness is amazing
We
see so clearly that we are blinded
Blinded
by our desired vices
We
choose
And
yes we pray
And
by faith we wait for the hand ever rejected
Ifeanyi Okwosha
/////////////////////////////////////
CLOSURE
It
doesn’t always bring comfort
What
it brings is clarity
And
this will bring relief
But
comfort?
You
find comfort in different things
It
can come in the lyrics of a song
That
type of song that starts to play on your car radio when you are barely
listening, driving mindlessly and contemplating your heart’s content
Until
one line pulls you in and you feel some calm creeping into your bones
Comfort
can come while you are standing in awe at the beach
Staring
at the blue of the sky
how
it meets the blue of the shimmering ocean
Such
harmony
how
the waves caress the shore pulling in the white sand
Over
and over again
Relentlessly
With
out fail
Like
a covenant
You
may find comfort
In
the smile of a friend whose warmth seeps into your heart and spreads
understanding love
Comfort
may come to you at dawn
When
your whispered prayers are answered in the quiet still voice of the spirit
You
may find it in the precious lines of a book
That
one you bought years ago but never got around to read
Sometimes
comfort comes in silent, sudden tears. The type that mirrors the truth of your
heart’s grief, that washes down your face without shame
Closure
isn’t always welcome because then you have to kiss hope goodbye
Yet
sometimes
you need closure so that you don’t turn to a pillar of salt just
because you can’t help looking back.
Kemibon
//////////////////////////////////////
THESE
TIMES
These are halcyon times
The best of times and the
worst of times as Dickens
would have it.
Times in which families were happy
or miserable in their varied and different
ways
Times which are not so much lineal
but circular and morphed into waves
and particles and the smallest units
of life and existence
In these times two contradictory thoughts lounge together,
wearing appropriate hats
and smoking exotic cigars
Things like
love and hate;
fear and faith;
peace and turmoil
or peace in turmoil;
breaking and binding
And many other contrasts
that qoheleth, the ecclesiast
reflected upon.
These are times that
look like the other times,
Like there has been no cessation
of time from
1918 to 2018 and following
Same anti maskers;
same billionaire bogeyman;
same anti science such as it is,
though then it was the aspirin,
aspiring to be a covering for the mark.
Same conspiracies.
Same theories.
These times
Those times
Same time
So sad!
ANDREW
WHYTE
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