By Noel Ihebuzor
before and beyond Babel
that silent voice bubbles on
bounding and bouncing
in bundles of beautiful
babble that unbundle, bare
and bond me
with no words spoken
not needing nor heeding
any spoken word
***I just read a great poem by Susan L. Daniels and it immediately prompted this spontaneous response.
Find the link to Susan’s poem http://susandanielspoetry.com/2012/11/19/another-love-poem-without-the-word-in-it/#comment-15778
By Susan L. Daniels and Noel A. Ihebuzor
S:
it echoes–
this pause before words
weighted breath
N:
It speaks loud
the empty spaces
between words
S:
those moments
minds falter before
sharing truth
N:
truth haltered
for so long, now free
freeing tears!
S:
and floating
on that salt river
soft releasing
N:
hidden fears
uncertainties now
flowing away
tumbling down
tongue now unleashed to
wonder why
*** A duet with my duet partner, poet and friend, Susan. I responded to her Haiku on silence, which then provoked her own response et ainsi de suite, this beautiful Haiku on silence and which says so much emerged. It is already published in Susan’s Blog under the title –
By Boomie Bol and Noel Ihebuzor
Spoon fed by desire
Nourished by lust
Lavishly drunk on love
Satiation soon
Repeatedly reached
In phases
Joy brimming as
Fingers, fork, tongue, mouth, taste buds
feel, feed and sweet fill
Nourished to the brim
My essence is filled
Full lips wiped in happy delight
This poem was born from my response to Boomie Bol’s poem; Untitled: Dinner. The first and last verses are Boomie’s while the second and third (italicized) are mine. Such a pleasure to do the duet with Boomie who is a great poet with a very warm voice. Please visit her blog for a delicious treat in poetry! O se, Boomie..
By Susan L. Daniels and Noel A. Ihebuzor
these arms, these hands
could pull needles from softened metal
that was swords
and use these tongues to tell it–
let us close the gaping wounds
on the face of the earth
caused by the savage rage
of raw us clawing at things we never can ever own
let it begin, this stitching together
of something torn
***Susan(italicized) and I (regular type face) decided, on Susan’s prompting, to blend our efforts for the Dverse prompt today, which involves truce or armistice. As always, this was so much fun to craft with Susan–a wonderful, inspiring co-creator, poet and friend!
Noel @naitwt on Twitter
A HAIKU CHAIN by Susan L. Daniels and Noel A. Ihebuzor
it echoes–
this pause before words
weighted breath
It speaks loud
the empty spaces
between words
those moments
minds falter before
sharing truth
*** A haiku conversation between my duet duet partner and I. Came about after I commented on the main poem she wrote. Susan’s Haiku is in normal font, mine is italicized.
By Noel Ihebuzor
Swirling and howling
senseless whirlwind of savage
rage, sowing chaos
and terror
on a trail strewn with
destruction
force of waste, courage
will faze, tame and chain your rage
and prevail at last
The pounded flaked skin
of earth floats scattered wide by
nature’s raw rage, slashed
gashed by savage blows
stabbed and pummelled she bleeds tears
littered with debris
amid bobbing wrecks
here and there, hope stands stubborn
set to heal the earth
By Susan L. Daniels and Noel A. Ihebuzor
I am a girl.
Eleven years ago
I came too early for you,
but I was yours
as nothing else was,
and I grew under love
brighter than the sun.
I am still growing. I am green
& unripe fruit, unready
I am a girl,
I long to play, feel
and unfurl. I run after butterflies
I wave after birds in flight
I dwell in innocence
I harvest smiles and stars in all I see
I am a child
my eyes carry hope.
I feel. I dream past this body
and carry in these bones
a life that hums promise
and walks joy
I am a girl,
body, soul and spirit,
and human
not a piece of flesh
not an object for peace
not an object to be priced
I am a girl,
though lately this body bleeds
and these breasts can make milk
I am too young for this business of women
my hips are too narrow to balance a child,
too slender to push one out;
my mind too new to mother another
and I will break beneath a man’s need
my young body if forced to yield will only hurt,
weep in pain and shame
I am a child,
I long for safe spaces
to draw and discover my dreams,
to live them, and to sing, joyful
as I discover the marvels of the world,
my world expanding
I am a child.
I dream of books I have not read
and the only seed I am fit to hold now
are those of the mind, scattered to work deep;
not the body choked with seeds of a man
I must accept but carry in fear and bitterness.
Death will bloom inside my body, not life
if I am planted now
I am child,
not a wife
marriage at my age will drown me
twist my bones
pierce my body
and break my spirit
Mother, father
I am your child.
Your flesh made and fed me;
to send me to a husband
is to send me to a slaughterhouse
where the floor is stained
with the blood of so many cattle
listen to my words, words
eyes speak but mouth cannot;
words my body shouts in trembling
your eyes can hear if they open.
I beg you to answer past my fear
and shield me with your arms
Father and mother
ignore the clutter of culture
spare your daughter this chain of torture
Ignore the clatter of the appeal of gain,
remember our bond of blood
before you cause me pain,
before your decisions tear and shatter my developing body
and eventually spill this innocent blood
Intro to this duet by Susan on her blog – >
**You guys had to know this was coming, right? Noel (regular text) and I (italicized) have created this duet, using the voice of a child. Though it was, as always, a pleasure to weave lines with Noel, the subject is not one that leads to much joy…no matter how talented your duet partner is.
****Let me only add to this intro that Susan’s talent is infectious, and that it has been my luck to be so infected by it! 🙂
http://susandanielseden.wordpress.com/2012/10/06/duet-for-the-girl-child/#comment-12719
By Noel A. Ihebuzor
the child as mother
smothers childhood
the murdered mind weeps
when torture is garbed as culture,
a deadening deaf culture
deaf to pleas and protests
pleas of despair
the despair of the innocent,
thrashing like fish
trapped in a net,
whimpering and weeping
the lonely lament of a lamb,
her neck gripped in the jaws
of a predator, depraved,
blood spurting from ruptured aperture,
victim’s pain and slow death
contrasting with victor’s rapture
the shivering of the struggling lamb
before the slaughterer’s blade,
as dreaded night falls,
in vain searching the dark world
closing in on her for some light
to brighten her bleak plight and
and lift her soul,
finding none
heiress of pain,
fragile limbs grabbed, groped and gripped
by coarse grasping hands,
the repeated shattering pain as tender
flesh is gashed by hard hot flesh,
the happy husband
invades soft developing chambers
savours with selfish relish tender flesh,
matters little
this maturing and developing frame
now numb
matters little childhood
now broken
Matters least innocence stolen
forever lost
as forced intrusions, crude invasions,
desecrate unfolding sacred spaces
the empty victor’s gain,
the victim’s pain, our collective shame
Now she carries a new life in her, her child,
herself a child, drenched in confusion,
12, 13 seasons ago,
she was like this life just beginning to form,
now daughter of pain,
tied down by the glue cobwebs of tradition, vice-like
Is this meet the sacrifice of the innocent?
Is it meet that marriage mars childhood
mangling a girl child’s today and her tomorrow
destroying her innocence
in the season of her youth
making a mother of one
in need of mothering
smothering her hopes, happiness and health,
freezing rich potentials
limiting possibilities from unfolding
all because fevered callous hands,
propped by culture selfishly reach out in greed
to harvest and appropriate fruits,
tender fruits plucked in their bud
to feed coarse souls
in collusion with parents
in search of quick gain
on such emptying and wasting plain
deaf to the cries of pain
of childhood smothered,
of dreams denied
** raw…will refine later – the subject is a delicate and very painful one**
By Susan L. Daniels and Noel A. Ihebuzor
i have flown too
pushing off with one foot
and coasting thermals with hawks
but after i am above trees, dispersing clouds
skipping over jet trails–
never in dreams have i found a way
back to down but opening my eyes
and waking
up, finding it gone
and wishing that magic to
resume spinning silk threads;
tangling delight so lightly
sometimes, you wake up
at the wrong time in a dream,
floating in its amber jet stream,
at a point of its greatest promise
as it danced along its self-willed
and illogical trajectory…
and alas “revus interruptus”
we balance that fine-brushed line
where dream and fantasy kiss
and then in vain you conjure a continuation
by locking down unfurled eyelids,
casting babalawo and ifa beads
only to meet “resumption access denied”
boldly staring at you opaquely
like the negatives of a black and white picture
from behind your tightly shut eyes!
if wishes dance, flashing silver
like a cloud of minnows past catching
that is what these dreams do, fleeting and fleeing.
such wild gifts resist forced forging;
though we beg the bringer,
she swims away with them, arcing
behind our eyes, unwilling.
Unyielding to our anxious silent pleas,
ignoring our favored sketched dream scenes and sets,
our preferred casts, co-stars and shooting locations,
smiling, she denies us our feverish aspirations
to statuses of dream directors and procreators
can she midwife one child over another?
if it is love, or flying we ask for
she will bring us falling dreams
or kissing from mouths that differ from desire;
yes, we thirst, and take both the vinegar and sweet
dropped on our lips,
accepting not what is wanted but what is given
***Talk about spontaneous generation! This started as a response to a “dreams” poem by Susan and bloomed from there. Susan and I (Susan voice is italicized here) cooked this up in between Susan getting ready for a teacher’s conference at her son’s school in New York and I was taking a short break at a workshop in Morogoro, Tanzania.
Reflections 