Posted in Poetry

A song of Faith and Hope

By Noel Ihebuzor

When you find yourself before the day, a day 

darkened by crisis

your road blocked by obstacles, slippery and forbidding

…blinding and obstructing

the path of faith

will lead us to the fair and feast

of supreme joy

that God prepares for us.


Be confident

No need for despair

Believe in His cross of wood


Even if sleepless night blight your path

Even if ferocious dogs bark loud

And cold freezes your soul

And warm bitter tears of despair

prepare to unleash with the force of a tsunami

and anguish inundates and threatens to wash you away


Even if the terrors of the night seek to drown you

as they frighten your dreams soaking them in clammy sweat

even if the world threatens to fall apart

and suck you in and under

be confident child of faith

stand up, child

say No, and kick back the incipient despair

re-conceive your savior

your king, his laws, so simple

faith, hope and charity

be strong and steadfast and believe

be steadfast and re-launch yourself

upright on his path

your eyes fixed on heavenly things

contemplate his light that illuminates

in the rays of the sun

His reassuring caress in the soft smile of the moon

the shining stars his priceless pearls


Behold His glory, drink from the endless bounty of the joy

He freely bestows, without limits, across and beyond borders,

Without equal

on this day born of faith

this joyous day of Easter and for always

@naitwt on twitter

Posted in Poetry

Interviewee’s lament

The interviewee’s lament


by Noel Ihebuzor  Tuesday, 18 January 2011 at 20:09


When you and I speak in

settings stiff, skewed and tense

in this market place steeped in imperfections,

in flawed assumptions, unequal rates of exchange and asymmetries

judge and jury,

you hold both the yam and the knife


when you and I engage

in these strained encounters

and you must ask me what, how and why,

me, tense, my tongue parched dry,

stiff as wood

my phrases now in patches and stutters

my cool calm flown

my rehearsed composure in rout ,

unraveling, ideas in disarray

and you cool and assured,  must ask me what how and why

please ask

but let the why not fall with the deadening

deafening weight of a ton

nor weighted down by a long dangling darkling tail

inflamed hot by your enlarging arrogance

swaying wantonly,  entangled by accumulated pride

tinged with prejudice

propelled by malice, intent to manacle.


So drill me, grill me since you must,

with your what how and why

 but gently, not a mangling why,

that verges on the arid,

that seeks to ridicule, No,

ask me why and how, a plain why,

simple and clear

nothing of the trajectory of the calculated knockout punch

not a why with vicious and malicious intent,

with concealed traps, seeking to abase,  debase 

to reduce me

otherwise I could defy roles

turn the tables and also ask you

the favorite questions

of the town imbecile,

(him without guile or vile intention)

“how long is a comma,

when spoken with the feigned forced eloquence,

of  the newly turned ajebo?”

“how many grasshoppers will make one cow?”

“how many half truths make one truth?”

questions similar to some of the ones

your assured tongue hurls at me

in our unequal engagement

questions that verge on the sterile, the hostile

straining my patience and

leaning progressively to the irrelevant