 |
| WINNER POEM OF THE MONTH - EMMANUEL IFEANYI |
TIME AND CYCLES – Poem of the month
I
have ran my race to its finish.
I
have lived this life to it end.
Slipping
through the shards of memories,
Broken
or sutured,
The
heart silences on a divan of regrets.
With
the rising sweet-soar sigh of death’s relief
My
eulogy rains,
From
a dark cloud of disguised disgust.
Though
my clay-roofed home is watered with tears,
I
am but another victim.
Resigned
to the fated whims of time’s vicissitude.
The
darkness you see paves regret,
And
the light that I hoped shadows wisdom.
I
have lived.
I
shall rest.
I
shall forget.
But
remember that time is a killer of us all,
And
death is its final messenger.
I
beseech thee,
Drink
while your cup of life runs,
Chase
while your dreams breathe,
Believe
while hope still has its day,
For
in the times that was, you shall find wisdom.
For
in the time that is, your passion will inspire meaning.
And
in the times that will be, your hopes will give life.
When
you call for the moon to rise at midday
And
it does not,
Nor
does your mountainous faith cause the sun to rise at midnight,
Be
not perturbed.
As
you journey through this maze called life,
You
shall be fated to uncertainty,
But
in time, believe chases away doubt.
For
each season shall manifest its lessons to the insightful.
Make
peace with the thorns to smell the roses.
Be
fervent to the prophet of your dreams,
But
forget not the labors of daily bread.
Every
fated day is war between heaven and the grave.
Yet,
you are the prize and also the sole warrior.
Survival
is being humble in victory,
And
becoming fiercer for every battle lost.
And
this cycle too must come to an end.
It
is your purpose to live it well.
To
life you owe a reckoning,
Not
death.
Listen,
but learn.
My
heir.
Emmanuel Ifeanyi
////////////////////////////////////////////////////
The
Truth
The
truth is, you’re blessed beyond measure
With
skin filled with oil that provides moisture
For
quenching the thirst that sank men into sadness
Birthing
their ascension into happiness
Let’s
stroll down memory lane to when your lands were green
Admire
the fields, before these lands turned red
We’d
mourn at the site where vegetation was once seen,
For
now it is a jungle adorned with dung and bloodshed
Let’s
detour to when the sweet music of peace filled your ear
You
inhaled love from the air, fostering our hearts with unity
But
bouts of war have smothered the peace you once held dear
As
you are compelled to accept the bitter embrace of disunity
The
truth is, you’re blessed beyond measure
With
skin filled with oil that provides moisture
For
quenching the thirst that sank men into sadness
But
then, isn’t that the cause of all this mess.
Bayo
////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
TALES OF HOPE
The
cubs knew
Anyone
born without a spoon
Can
still dream of school
Branch
by branch
They
can cut through
With
luck
They
may meet a boy without shoes
And
make it to the highest rock
Life
is not plain
Just
intermittently insane
A
certified madhouse
Here
When
darkness rumbled
And
the young disappeared
Confusion
struck
Truth
was buried
Iron
birds refused to fly
The
camel roared till the elephant left
The
cubs knew
Amidst
dark twists and turns
Despite
vanity amidst insanity
And
muddled waters
The
jungle looked absurd
Cows
were spilling blood
While
the elephants hid their young
Confusion
grew
The
cubs knew
With
or without spoons
With
or without school
Life
taught the hardest class
One
day a ray will touch the grass
Truth
will show itself
No
more blindfolds
Blind-sides
Or
moles
Just
the jungle in its full glory
Telling
all its story.
Redefining
history
The
cubs knew
Erhieyovwe
///////////////////////////////////////////////////
THE
ADVENTURES OF A GROWING FEET
Twilight
splinters upon the edges of stone heads
pouring
out like cloudy blue seas,
in
this district, there was a nipper who loved to jog
from
one lap to another,
to
his daunting desire;
Mothers
and Aunts said yes
Uncles
and Fathers nodded aye.
In this same district, he climbed over towering tree tops,
tumbling through tunnels
& by a whip or two more,
someway, he evolved into a young chap amongst tutors &
playmates
both with friendly eyes & hostile stares
Yet, he had them all in his hands
like a collection of puppets.
There was a time when he witnessed the truth
from mouths housing sweet tongues
before ripening into a new being
& now, the truth to him be not known.
Ask of him & he'll walk you round his cruise as a ripened
being.
He was once a boy with companions
now a man with marauders on his heels
flanked by bugging skeletons & munching Piranhas,
'call him a deserted ship'
again, in between seasons,
when he travels back to those early laps,
he would remember
how they forgot to warn him
that a time was coming,
a time when he would behold himself as Tarzan
battling his way through caves & mazes
a time when he would need to survive
all alone in the jungle of growth.
OLUWATOSIN OKUPA
/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
JUNGLE
There is something
beautiful and seemingly cruel about a jungle
Where the stories told
by each is a view through a prism
A deserved justice an
unjust act of justice justified
Like the story of the
different parts of an elephant
Told by six blind men
Under the rainbow
crest of the waves
The endless flow of
undulating golden dunes
Sea of greenery exuding
different fragrances
And between all of
them where the fastest lives
Lurks different
dangers
Also for the ones more
dangerous than danger
The apex predator
Lives and dine in the
most dangerous of all the jungles
Created unmatched
within this sphere
A tool now lord and
master
The most dangerous
Revered by most
Ifeanyi Okwosha
/////////////////////////////////////////////////////
/////////////////////////////////////////////
LEAVE AND LIVE OR NOT
That
hysterical laugh
will
always haunt me as my brain does a backflip and lands on the memory of me
staring down
at
the large mahogany desk where you lay your scrawny fingers and unashamedly
pollute the
atmosphere
one more time with
That
hysterical laugh
you
say,
‘’you
are not good enough BUT I am keeping you because I see potential BUT you don’t
deserve
a raise BUT here’s more work to make you better BUT remember, you are not good
enough’’
I
want to say fuck you but if I don’t get my paycheck, I’d be fucked
so
I leave and live with
That
hysterical laugh
tucked
somewhere in my head, a constant reminder that will occupy more than just my
head
That
cocky smirk
you
have after we have wined and dined in each other’s juices, bathed in our ever
lingering
desires,
satisfaction our only gain, and then you open your mouth still wearing
That
cocky smirk
you
say to me,
‘‘you
don’t bend properly, you can do better you know, I mean you try but it’s not
good enough’
but
there you are, spent, body glazed in my sweat and yours, barely able to catch
anything, not
even
your own breath.
I
want to say fuck you but who will fuck me next?
so
I leave and live with
That
cocky smirk
tucked
somewhere in my head, a constant reminder that will occupy more than just my
head
That
feline stride
you
have to make every other day because somehow oxygen still finds its way to your
dainty
nostrils
in this jungle, christened life so somehow you have to make this stride somehow
That
feline stride
you
have to make even when the doctor is worse than the diagnosis because this is
the part of
the
jungle you have found yourself but somehow you have to make this stride somehow
I
want to say fuck you but this is fucking me every day yet I still take
That
feline stride
because
I live in this jungle and I don’t have the balls to leave
in
this jungle when do I become king? Does anyone ever really become king?
Anita
Oguni
//////////////////////////////////////////
JUNGLE
It's
a forest with no green here
Carcass
of trees
black
soil
nothing
new can bloom here
it's
layers deep this coal
It's
thirst for showers and blood
It's
a memory of sound now
no
swinging from tree to tree
wind
rips through disfigured branches now
No
tears available in this region
it's
all dried up now.
I
want to scream but too thirsty to even bother
My
mind is numb
I'm
burning too
I'm
halfway into this for
There
used to be trees here.
Emebiriodo Ugochukwu
/////////////////////////////////////////////////////
JUNGLE
In the jungle,
In the forest,
The Noisy Gorillas
In the jungle,
In the wild,
The Cageless Lions
In the jungle,
In the bushes,
The Whoring Cheetahs
In the jungle,
In the swamps,
The Cross crocs
In the jungle,
In the caves,
The Soaring Bears
In the jungle,
In the desert,
The Dark Pirates
In the jungle,
In the holes,
The Harmless Rodents
In the jungle,
In the camps,
The Fearless Men
UBONG ABASI
/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
LURKING FUMES
After
the war, we learn to walk again
Only if we are not twisted and inhumed
In the gory muds of shanks and bullets.
The womb that carries us have become
Insensitive, Stale and dastardly hostile
So we punch holes in its walls
Clamp on the weak and eat their flesh
Slicing tongues to hide behind maze of knavery
And wrestling to be king of kings
In this Jungle.
They scream for war but have no fortress
What is left after we see the face of battle?
Laughter and love; friends and toys;
Trees and Rivers; soup and rum;
Books and songs; music and colours.
All gone... All gone...
Then we'll sit with the old breed
Mourning the phantoms of a debased past
Ravaged...
Amar Basil
///////////////////////////
WILDS
Have
you admitted to yourself
that
you are a rainforest of snags?
That
your prayers are dews of weaknesses,
and
that your living is an altercation of you being
a
dead leaf today, and a green leaf tomorrow.
You
should avow to yourself
that
there’s a tree with burly branches and impregnable twigs
causing
a fracture right in between
your
breastbone and your shoulder blade.
You
carry misery on your insides.
Your
right hand is a lion’s claw; your left hand, a hamster’s paw.
You
are both gorilla and mosquito in legs.
On
some days you fly, on most days you crawl
You
are both bird and reptile.
I
think you should camp in yourself
although
your are a dangerous terra firma,
I
still think you should camp in yourself.
Even
the best of raging fires can’t burn down an entire continent.
Build
up a tent in your head, and spend a night inside yourself.
The
chameleon on your heart should not change colour this time
and
the avifauna in your head should receive a miracle of silence.
Become
a cutlass and clear the weed of a hair you so proudly carry.
Is
it that you do not know that you are a good place?
Samora Akinbulumo
//////////////////
JUNGLE
I'm
the ruler of this wilderness
Seated on a throne made with thousand bones
I was born and bred in this jungle
I own and know the nook and crannies and zones
I'm the pompous king of a pride of lions
The brain box of a memory of elephants
I'm the deep rooted tree to a nest of bees
A feared sovereign to a colony of ants!
I represent the major, the minor, the restraint, the excess
I'm the beginning and the end. I'm a to b to c, d, e, f! See see
I'm the commando, the monster, the feared and fearless
I'm the dragon you know, the snake she perceives, the ape he see's
I'm George of the judges of the jungle
I cursed the bluebird that tried to shit on my head
Banned it from singing to my people or perching on any tree of my jungle
Until it stops making my people wage war against their head!
I'm George of the jungle,
Watch out for this tree!
SPONTANEOUS
////////////////////////
DON’T SAY
HUSH!
It
is not our way
To
reap from another’s sweat
It
is not of the blackman’s norm
To
call the breeze a storm.
You
see when the elders sit
They
can see far ahead of the youth
that
stands atop the Iroko tree.
When
you cut a tree from the forest
It
is only the elders that knows its resting place.
You
can have all the newest of clothes
But
you can’t have as many rags as the elders.
When
a child sits to eat worms
His
intestines should be ready for doom.
Afterall
what brought us all here,
Avarice,
hatred and contempt
That
we have passed on from generations
The
hands that keep company of dirt
Will
surely not be suiting for a friendly handshake.
The
elders have grown wise with age
To
know that when a policeman
Begins
to make friends with criminals
And
wear the same buba with thieves
We
should get ready to become megaurds overnight
You
see,
When
judges begin
To
see nothing wrong in collecting bribes
We
should know that the law wears a veil.
When
young children
Are
being praised by their mothers
For
stealing their neighbours belongings
We
shouldn’t question the day our values died.
When
the elders speak
Do
not silence them,
For
they-have grown wise to know
When
a fast moving korope pretends to be moving slow.
We
are in strange times
When
men flaunt their ill-gotten wealth
In
the very face of their victims.
A
time when men of the law
With
trust have gone to war
And
those who are supposed
To
be men of God-
are
mischievously claiming His place.
When
the elders talk
Let
not your finger
Order
your lips still.
.
©
Muyideen Ayinla 2021
/////////////////
DEAREST GREEN
MOTHER.
I
hit my gong again
I
let it echo in deep valleys and caves
In
my strides are hidden prayers
And
hopes of dew in the evening sun.
I
hit my gong again
In
supplication to men
Whose
sharp blades take your roots
To
make new homes in senselessness.
I
hit my gong again
In
admonition to sons of men
Whose
inconsiderate efforts
Sabotage
the future's dream to live.
I
am a night bird in your green nest
Your
harbinger of hope
I
will hit my gong again, and again
Until
your message is known to men.
Desmond Patrick
///////////////////
JUNGLE
I have
listened to the sounds of your formless forms
and heard the
voice of your deviance
Your
eggs had the society desired not
For in its
yoke a heavy burden lays
I have felt
the moonlit tales of your prowess
As places
thou inhabited not
caresses the
eyes of my imagination
For in
plainess of greens thy might lays
I have seen
the preference of my brethren
To the rich
alluring fragrance of the creator
Where the old
gladly refreshes the new
In a cyclical
truce of give and take
Olumide Soyemi
////////////////////////////////////////////
JUNGLE
Clouded
A
forest full of viperous symphonies
Laden
with log of blunt minds
Ours
is a media of jeering vaults
Valueless
On
a post clothed in police name
I
made my print bare my mind
No
reason to value 'ourself'
Like
the wind
We
are bare of fruits
Nothing
to call ours
No
Jereme, not even 'ourself.'
Beautiful
As
lettered as a book
Stands
a lone mind on the post
Rivers
of crowd swimming away not noticing.
Pained
In
this forest fear feeds lies
The
nameless is worm for the tadpole
The
toad is the voice of the vanavaasee
Ours
is a jungle of beautiful vices.
Chris N. John
////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
JUNGLE
Many
words qualify jungle as a word
Jungle
as a word qualifies many words
Gives
them necessary credentials,
credibility
and credence, just to make
an
obviously alliterative point.
You
have, jungle fever, which it turns
out
is not a type of illness, but a genre busting movie, which might probably
be
pressed into service as a kind of illness
Then
of course, there is jungle justice,
one
of whose aspects is the kangaroo
court
and the Portuguese parliament
or
any complicit and mostly rubber stamping legislative body, like those
we
have in this place; this space!
But
jungle justice is more about ‘operation wetie’ and wearing Michelin necklaces,
than
finessing and finagling in courts
and
the velvet chambers across the country.
It
is also the kind of justice
that
happens where rules,
particularly
just laws
are
interpreted and observed
more
and mostly in the breach
No
rule of law
and
certainly
no
rule of just laws.
But
in this putative jungle,
where
we are told with high zest,
the
oft repeated lie, not Dulce et decorum Pro patria mori, but, that ‘we the
people’, firmly and solemnly resolved to do anything close to living together
in unity and harmony!
They
made it,
enacted
it and gave it to themselves
and
then lied
And
we know, don’t we, that no good thing except maybe a jungle thicketed with
lawlessness, grows on top of a Mephistophelian and Apollyonic flea pit
and
mound hill of lies
Hence
the Jungle!
ANDREW WHYTE
///////////////////////////////
THE JUNGLE
Only chukwuma that
The only pay back
Will be the take back
Of our humanity
From those who wish us naught
No mercy
No playing
This is war!
This is the jungle
Eat or be eaten
cHIsOm
No comments:
Post a Comment