Posts Tagged 'free verse'

A song for the Girl Child

By

Noel A. Ihebuzor

 

Ekwe, ogenes and udus

from a dawning new day

play a sombre serenade,

whispering and suggesting

new worlds, new possibilities

 

and on the waking skies, words inscribed

on a rainbow-ed horizon hum

your amazing qualities of universal verity

 

Sister, daughter, seed carrier,

Future assurer, energiser, builder,

Calmer, softener, sweetener, peace maker

 

The tunes stir and wake you

 

you rise, a flower about to blossom

and gaze in sober silence at the signs scripted

in golden sprinkles on the aprons of  a dawning day,

your smile of innocence splays the sky

salutes the dawn and sprays the new day

with fragrances of hope and possibilities

 

And the rainbow-ed horizon hum on their truths

 

Sower, harvester, protector, shock absorber, sufferer

Nurturer, Nurse, first responder, stabiliser,  

Keeper, organiser, model, inspirer, teacher,

 

And I thought I saw a new smile kiss your face,

saw in that smile the dancing hopes

of glow filled futures for all

if culture and gender

do not suffocate the seeds you carry within for all

 

and in this dawning morning,

where hope sang to my anxious ears

and possibilities danced and beckoned

I prayed in silence for the world

to nurture and cultivate

the generous seeds of transferable greatness

that nature has richly embedded in your bosom

and your fertile and supple mind

so that we all could harvest from it

a future of gladness and greatness

 

**Adding my raucous voice to those celebrating this year’s (2013) day of the girl child.  Not the best of songs, but the intention should redeem all its imperfections

Noel

Honey, it’s heaven in my womb.

By 

Natasha Sebunya


Tears make their way through the passage carved by the loneliness that your sorry ass created
My irises burn open with the sting of regret
The salty taste bubbles through the vocal chord that had been silenced by your insensitivities
But then I hear the familiar thump that pounds in my chest
And hey, blood is still running through my veins, and air still fills my lungs
And I am reminded that I still live
Breathe- speak-beat-live
I almost drowned in a pity filled pool
Thank God I saw in it the reflection of that fool
She 5,3 drowning in tears for some fool
(who by the way is not even that big)
And I remembered
Knees-hands! crawl…left-right,march! One-two,fly!
Breathe-speak-beat-live
And I thought to myself;
There should be a license for the penis
Drive at 16, drink at 21, penis at 33
Some sort of a class where they are taught,
You opening my door, does not equate to me opening my legs
You can, and honey yes you may, buy me flowers, diamonds, a house, and some of you even the world
But mister! you can never afford my heart
My uterus is not for sale, baby not even for rent,
You have that weapon that sits between your legs, but remember I can make rise
And don’t you forget,
Honey, it’s heaven in my womb.

 

Another strong poem by Natasha Sebunya

The gravity of grafitti – wild hate singing on wide walls

By Noel Ihebuzor

 

Naming is dangerous, cheap

prejudice and hate,

foul the skies

with clammy paws and febrile strokes

spraying lurid ugliness

on the frames of non-consenting city walls,

obscene images and messages,

spewing and strewing hate and hurt

internal rot, riots and rages uncaged, intrusions,

extrusions ugly as rape, ragged, raging

Seeds of discord sow, soon sprout

creeping, spreading, spawning like

poisonous parasitic fungi on tired urban walls

revealing the jungle and darknesses within.

Their message?

Hate, discord and despair,

sad triplets, their grips cloud vision,

clog hearing and choke reason

as they slowly suck their victims

to ever resounding and noisy hollowness!

 

***Prompted by SLD’s Cultural Grafitti

http://susandanielspoetry.com/2013/02/21/cultural-graffiti-2/comment-page-1/#comment-21719

Stirred Muse – in response to SLD’s “Muse Ridden”

By Noel Ihebuzor

 

The touch key stirs, stretches, awakens and moves

humming, stroking and caressing

 

Soon, it blends notes and nuances,

stirs, nudges, and then steers other senses to move and dance

all awakening now, gliding, sliding, slithering

like anxious limbs aroused by the teasing inebriating tones of Alija

like nubile hips swaying involuntarily,

stirred by ekwe, ngelenge and udu laced by ele mminri

suddenly the soft shadows of a new song emerge

fleeting, inchoate

 

Some further loving touch and brush by the potter,

and the new song explodes

reason, rhyme and rhythm join hands

skipping along, speaking words

spraying flowers, some red, some rose,

some raw and raging,

some purple and crimson, some weeping,  others laughing

but all carrying deep messages

that touch our aroused eyes and ears

and seep to the soles of our searching souls –

the beauty of Susan’s poetry

 

*** Susan Daniels, a superb poet and my duet partner, wrote a great poem “Muse ridden” http://susandanielspoetry.com/2013/02/14/muse-ridden-2/

which prompted my spontaneous comment on her blog. Stirred Muse is my attempt to polish that spontaneous response – so here!  I am still left with the feeling that the spontanoeous response reads much better!***

Stirred by anger

By Nwachukwu Egbunike

sadly those sired by anger
are boiling with hate
to lose their commonwealth
they look at all with grim

 

sadly they take the same path
falling into same pit
those dug by their patriarchs
step siding the truth piously

 

the ping of their bb
rings with curses and malfeasance
roaring with disgust
for the pooh-pooh sprawling on their mats

 

they tweet all day
not as stewards of truth
but slaves of hate
passionately greedier than their dads

 

same short cuts taken
same mistakes made
shying away from the facts
sole path of breaking the curse

 

wishing to change the tide
with same tools that caused the flood
without rationality that paves the flow
wrapped up with sentiments that blind the face

 

but we’ll still hope
though we see none
but knowing that greed last not forever
by truth we’ll change this land

 

it might tarry
it might delay
but one day, despite the delay
it will mighty arise

 

(Nwachukwu Egbunike, 12/12/12)

***Nwachukwu Egbunike is a Nigerian writer, critic and social commentator. His book “Dyed thoughts, a conversation in and from my country” is a collection of critical articles on the challenges of nationhood in Nigeria. He lives in Ibadan.

Hush the voice

nothing can
ever hush a voice,
not force
nor noise

nothing can
neither philistine jaws
nor grubby grouchy claws
not even green clammy creepy envy
nor raucous hollering of the loud mouthed

can choke
the delicate dimpled
dance steps of a voice
strumming, sometimes
fluttering, then prancing, now leaping
soft, delicate, yet piercing

rich in energy
strolling with poise
overflowing with force
brimming with sense

like joyful water jets
from a dam
fresh, full, gushing,
flowing, freeing and renewing,

inventing and reinventing
For Obinna and Susan, two talented voices!

Thoughts on Time – A duet

By Noel Ihebuzor and Susan Daniels

the sound of time
being kept
but never held

compare this to the heart

beating, ticking
bleeping, never sleeping
yet not keeping time
just hugging and holding scents
and traces from its irreversible passage

if we are keeping time
it should be measured
in pulses never wound
but still driving days
in matched rhythms

rhythmic pulsations
pounding in sync to our
logics and metres, fixed and elastic
always beating, heaving, trembling,
ever flowing, fluid but always alive,
even when we no longer are

yes, endless
in the pulse
we match, but briefly.
what drives us
in metered language
these words a drum
reflecting
a greater syncopation

we march to match
to catch that syncopation
moving our soles
and souls along trails
at once linear and at twice
circular, always forward
and occasionally recursive

 

***Another spontaneous poetic conversation on Time with Susan.  As always, it is a pleasure to write with Susan, whose words are italicized. Mine are in regular text.


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