Posted in Poetry

Dry taps

By

 

Noel Ihebuzor

 

Dry taps flood my eyes raw and red with tears

the running noses of malnourished children dry me up

slowly eat me up

 

Nothing runs now

nothing grows now any more

save the swollen stomachs

severe acutely malnourished children, SAMs

Nothing else but the growing numbers  of kids carrying these  ugly loads

of shame, nothing else  but these

and the swelling bank accounts of officials and politicians

persons of shrinking consciences, stunted morals

afflicted of severe affective deficits – SAD

 

Ugonma has died of thirst in a land endowed with springs,

Echidiime of hunger in a land over-running and endowed with plenty

in a land increasingly overcrowded by uncaring and indifferent adults

adults with blinkers and going bunkers

adults with contracted souls and empty minds

 

is there any wonder why the taps continue to run dry

and  I continue to cry for my hopes betrayed and

lament dreams and inheritances sold for a cheap porridge?

Posted in Poetry

lean years

the lean year now grow long

the lean years now swell

fat years now a memory, fading and withering

withering as children, fading as hope

whilst rage roars and soars

and fat indifferent officials and politicians gorge themselves silly

in fits akin to cannibal rage and infantile obsession

Posted in Poetry

communication and communion as bridges across the breaches of time and space

 
welcome to a new day –
the slumbering sun should shake off its sleep soon
and commence strolling over over to your space
as you roll and journey in your dreams
and dream up fresh songs! 
 
the sun is here already
it sauntered in hours ago
gently shoving the wings of night eastwards
and feebly greeting me as I walked my morning mile
in my brave effort to work off spread and weight!
 
A new song wells and swells in my throat as I walked
You should hear it when you wake and
I should buy you dinner since you inspire it-
yes, dinner without that stumbling word in our separated world 
a dinner that will overflow with richer dialogues
dialogues so instant, so sweet that they will
make even the sweetest singing canary jealous of their melodies
 
but we must yet find a fine time to dine
to commune and communciate beyond keyboard and  
bridge this breach of time and space
Posted in Uncategorized

Duet – A song by two voices

By Susan L. Daniels and Noel Ihebuzor

Susan:

Can I write this
or is this you
breathing in my poetry
& exhaling constellations
as I do yours

Let us write a truth
together
that resonates
across 2 continents:
of ogene and cymbal,
our voices
braiding organically
some new construct

Noel:

The song of twin voices twined and intertwined
linked by a bridge of rainbow,
a rainbow that links to an eternal truth
that bonds are color blind and see through blinds
communing across space and tongues with no tongue
sharing messages and vibes even in silence so total soft that feather falls sound like shouting waterfalls

the ogene perfumes the airwaves with lusty melodies
the cymbal charms and caresses aroused ear drums
as the flutist weaves and paints soft echoes of universal amity
feet begin to tap and waists begin to sway
to a spontaneous rhythm that speaks, that bonds, that creates, and announces a bond that baffles space,
time, clime and culture,
the bond and truth of the huge seeds and power of shared creativity that resides in us,
waiting to be released to waiting, warm welcoming spaces

Susan:

I pipe a melody
on a single pan flute,
and  you answer with full orchestra;
a rainbow ocean of voices blended
I swim within gladly,

a  song
echoed in conch shells
lifted to hungry ears,
or is that
the echo of a pulse
that is eternal,

life’s beat
is the rhythm of this dancing
out feet move inside

what will spring
from this planting
that I accept
in cupped,
trembling hands

& cover
with echoing silence?

Noel:

The planted seed bursts to life
and a sapling bursts to life
singing unheard melodies as its leaves unfurl,
branches reach out
embracing the open skies
its roots penetrate firm and deep
soon the bewitched seasons conspire
to fast track the season of seeds
the season of sowing
the season of birth
new songs are unleashed,
voices twine and intertwine
combining, creating and co-creating
new rhythms and fresh amities
and fresh rainbow bridges link people,
connect earth and sky,
people, places and spaces,
bodies and kindred souls in bonds of sharing,
bonds that penetrate, interpenetrate,
bonds that sing, hum and creating
warm synergies and energies
outflowing with enrichments
booming, blossoming and blooming
with life and unbounded possibilities
and boundless vistas

******************

Short Intro and context/

 I am sharing a duet I did with my friend, soul mate and fellow blogger, Susan L Daniel who resides in New York.  Across the distances, reaching out on and across that soft span bridge that loops out out each of us and can connect cultures and kindred souls, we sang this duet, spontaneous, with total voice and giving and elan – she in  her soft velvety contralto, me in my ruff gruffy voice that would have made Satchmo sound like a Pavarotti. I sang my last verse at 2345 hours Dar es Salaam time, with a request to Susan as director and inspirer to upload to her blog. She was gracious to do this and even more gracious in asking me to also upload on mine! Et bien Voila!   Enjoy our song, our duet, the child our communiion across cultures, spaces and time.  It was good as we sang it and Susan and I can only hope that as you too sing it with us, that the same warm gentle feeling that enveloped us in those moments of co creation would also be yours to experience!

Noel

Posted in Poetry

The Winning Mind

The mind that wills will win

willing is the wheel of winning

The mind that wills wilts not

weaning itself away from the whims of mere wishing

it conceives, believes,

engages and achieves

A mind that wins wills.

 

Imaginative, driven

fired by belief and faith

it aligns itself to

the wheel and will of the maker,

to the  wisdom of the creator

who lights  the path, the rivers,

the hills and valleys through

which we all transient wayfarers trudge and  journey

the winning mind wills itself to wade through

highs and lows

morally high, like Kant

avoiding cant and can’t

to win a crown

in the end,

at the two ends

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

Posted in Poetry

A song of rejoicing and hope – celebrating the demise of FGM

 

Noel Ihebuzor

No more shall a million songs be dimmed

and muffled by the shutters of tradition,

no more shall we remain silent

before the stunting of the living

to humor the dead

 

no longer shall we remain mute 

in drunk like obedience

to hollow and hollowing echoes from the past  

before the snuffing out

of ten thousand and one voices,

 

no longer remain silent accomplices

when rich possibilities are denied

in deadening numbing initiations,

where blind tradition visits violence

on the present, 

dulls, dumbs, blunts

and limits it 

no more be partakers of a tragedy.

 

 

For is it not tragedy

when the crusted boney hands of the past

trap and choke the present

and deny its petals and potentials

from unfurling and feeling?

 

We sing the voice of hope,

we sing a new dawn,

our voices affirm the present

unbind it from the rusty manacles of practices

that hurt, humiliate and harm,

our voices tear down blinding practices

as we shake ourselves free

from the shackles and tyranny of  some past imperfect

 

we sing, lips full, voices now vibrant

rejoicing the beauty of petals that will bloom,

the radiance of the bud of the flower

that embraces the open skies

free to feel, unfurl, unfold as endowed

 

“tragedy is defeated,

the present lives and heaves

rescued at last from the choking grip

of an ossified past

the present celebrates the joy of living

the future unchained”

 

 

Our daughters’ voices take up our cue

and sing your demise,

their full voices and lips

announce and chant your death,

chanting it to the four winds

on the four market days

in the gentle glow

and soft smile of each passing moon, happy

the stars winking, decorating the skies above

with a thousand sparkling flowers

 

our daughter dance,

they dance in agile steps,

limbs and life freed

of the weights of your deadening

heavy lead bangles,

they leap and prance as the melodies

from  their full lips and uncut voices explore,

explode with joy, celebrate

and drown the pains we felt”