By Noel Ihebuzor – three haikus
1.
First always resides
in the past but conditions
present and future
2.
First sings best where souls
script rich lines in shared colors,
that merge past and now
3.
First hands etch deep marks
on soft canvas of fresh souls
marks that free or freeze
By Noel Ihebuzor
From their anthills and lairs, nests, cages and hovels, out of these inhuman holes, out of the dark damp cramped cages they call home
They crawl out with subdued rage and hovering hope
At the first suggestion of light
on a new day
on empty bellies and in unwashed bodies,
on cracked tired broken shoes
they stream forth like angry ants in search of little change and
praying for the big change
In this existence denied of meaning, devalued and wasting
As they scurry to places to sell their hands and feet
They leave behind temporarily a jungle maze
full of the living and the heaving
most empty denied living but hollowed souls
sucked into the hole of hell by want and still in want
Late in the evening, they crawl back insatiate to their dark damp cramped holes
To rest fatigued souls and aching soles
Every day repeats this same ritual of pain with no gain
This same cycle and the circle remain unbroken, imprisoning,
crushing and slowly closing in
A vegetating existence has slowly cooked and numbed the soul
Emptying it of meaning and thinning it as the soles of the tired shoes they wear
As poverty flourishes and hope declines, tired souls and worn out soles
Men and women, teens and adults, drifters and hopefuls
They trooped here from now dimly remembered villages,
Their minds and feet seduced by the lure of glory
The haste for gain
Now their souls sad and weary weighed down and confused
Reduced by pain, held by down as if by weights of lead and waste
Rain storms of regret have erased all,
washed away all rainbows from these emptying spirits
regret rears strong, sears and cuts deep like a shearer’s knife
the mud filled streams of poverty wash down and away
clearing and carrying away the struggling and clambering feet and limbs and lives
the slopes are steep and slippery and false
on this faulted journey to the portals of plenty and affluence
the streams become torrents, and the torrents rage and
drag down and away
the storms of ruin gather and billow
dirt, dust, rust and rot mingle
dearth and the death of living
the dance of the death in place of life
like the stagger of the club footed , ungainly, clumsy, ugly and pitiful
help comes on millipede feet, fortune just as fast and hope dies just as slow
poverty walks and stalks in tatters and foul rags
time is also a millipede, hope a stunting dwarf
despair blooms and flourishes widely like wild untamed poisonous mushrooms
announces her presence loudly in the echoing rumbles of empty stomachs
fading hopes, festering wastes, dirty deaths, dirt and garbage
priests and pastors, imams, preachers and prophets
conduct their rich rituals as they dispatch the departed
and console the living with tall tales
Life in the crowded spaces of the living is full of rage, red in the tooth,
Raw, rough, tough
Human waste runs open, in open drains, scattered
Pipes and pumps yawn empty, cheap card board and brown zinc habitations
Sprawl and lean dangerously before habitants who have since stopped to care
The smell of alcohol mixes with the stench of poverty,
mixes with the smell
Of airless spaces with exposed excreta, vomit and waste
In noisy cheap bars, cheap perfumes on easy prostitutes
male and female
Hang heavy suffocating with the damp clammy odour of fear that sits heavily on this place of violence that violates
Scantily clad child mothers parade their wares unheeding before
Progressively inebriated future clients, with dimming eyes and failing judgments
As the venom of booze slowly creeps all over, dulling senses and stirring lust
The flesh trade is fast and flourishes, a lot more than flesh is sold in those short exchanges
Poorly clad children issues of many a trade sit around abandoned,
Strong glue has fried their brains and slowly freezes their lungs
They observe, hear, see, soak in and absorb all the rituals of pain, shame, want, cruelty and neglect
The streams of life that waters the living flow away and distant
rough and raging torrents of mud dredges rush openly and scar this place of want
rich in misery, eroding living and corroding the soul
And the place goes on
one big dance of opposites
full but empty
alive but dying
urban yet a jungle
more animals and less human
all ready to pounce
They trooped here in droves in search of hope
hopelessness and dope now bind many
in their rage the gun and knife now become a few
and for many the rope calls and ultimately unbinds……
let the sky open like my eyes and see
may the sky unblock her ears to the cries of pain and shame
heaven, reach out and wipe away their sighs, their pain
as they hover stunned by the lies of smooth tongues
sky loosen their bonds
bind those who tie up others with their inaction and truthful lies
heaven, unbind these bound tongues, bind those of the binders and wasters
heaven, open a window for these trapped souls
so that sun may shine
sky, open your sides and send showers of calm, of hope
of renewal, to reborn, recreate
let your waters of life wash away the gloom and doom, loosen their grips and unbind
the victims, wash away greed, remove need
let the seeds of hope flourish, hope and possibilities as twins and triplets
let new habitations spring up, homes for humans and hearths for hearts
women and children will be fine
and songs and dances may explode in every throat richly
and tired feet may again dance in nimble and rediscovered elegance of souls filled and fired by fine wine
**** I visited Kibera, Nairobi for the first time in 2004 and returned there on a number of occasions. The intense poverty there never ceased to shock me…and this song of despair and hope, written in 2004 was one of my responses to the strong emotions Kibera stirred up in me.
By Noel Ihebuzor
Haiku on True
True speaks not false nor
fake, voice genuine to self and
you, clear, clean and real
Opposite of false,
true stands upright, shiny bright
while false falls in slime
the false , with time, drinks
shame; the true with time flowers
petals blooming proud
By Noel Ihebuzor
When we love, we roll
wrap and reap, when love goes, we
rip, rant and regret
When we love, the sun shines
cool calm blue, humming magic
hearts glow, beings vibrate
When love goes, glow fades
blues come, gloom sings, hurting hearts
pull back, pain throbbing
By Noel Ihebuzor and Susan Daniels
Lately, conversations,
learned or elementary
about quantum entanglements
resonate & bring to mind
you
rich in kinks and curves
to the eyes straight
mirrors of us imperfect in perfection
reluctantly splitting in medium dense
elegance bending in fine angles
And tonight I lose sleep
to deep speculation
wondering at which point
and how
particles of pure energy
roaming space free, opening places
penetrating spaces and crevices
the flowing and roaming particles of
our matter collided
breaking barriers
upper and lower limit
vibrating stream of energy
yes, streams that crashed
and colluded
to synthesize
this synchronized turn
& counter-turn
between us
how across distances
the color of angel robes
the bow of the sky
this awareness continues
bundles of colors at different energy levels
streaming to lighten, to loosen
a delight
past an elemental level
indefinite until measured
** As usual, It was such wonderful fun doing this duet with Susan where we explore the relevance of aspects of particle theory in physics to communication and bonding across space, place and cultures. Susan says it better in her usual eoquence in the words below. Noel
***Quantum entanglements, or the theory of, was the inspiration for this duet between my bolded friend and I (italicized). I believe it describes nicely a friendship and affinity that stretches across the globe 
As always, hope you enjoy our fuzzy, fizzy exploration between particles and people — I know I had fun writing it with Noel, hope you enjoy reading it.
By Noel Ihebuzor and Susan Daniels
Monosyllable rich in polysemy
endless, stretching fabric enfolding layers
of meanings, deeper than the infinite
finite, endless, far and near
seamless unity, past, present, future merged
was, is and will, history and hope
defiant of human labels
Eternity the endless is;
neither forward nor back,
but everything now, old and new
the cry of creation echoed
by foothills wrapped in morning mist
reflecting the hum underneath sound,
an ageless shout
Stretched out in space
travelling and rolling
never straight, never monotone, velocity varying
in your kinks and loops,
you dance backwards to lace and trap the minds
of the traveler looking backwards from the present
reaching backwards to embellish images and events
with generous sweet strokes and paintbrushes, dripping nostalgia
We can only chart your path,
a journey from now to the less-now
colored by memory–beautiful,
instructive, instinctive;
more art than accuracy
in the retelling. Still, we rise
from what we think shapes us
to this moment, the moment now past
The beat of the pounding heart
the chimes of throbbing bodies
measure of rhythmic flows
the pulsing vibrating instruments
ogene, piano, ekwe, flute all sing and hum
with you, imperfect mirrors of your rhythm and soul
Yes, we keep time,
counting in fours and swings
and steps, our imposed order
an accompaniment
to your dance through and with us
Measure of intensity, streaming shooting jet
fast as light, often twice as swift
for those in present passion
crawling slow overweight snail for those who wait
rhythm ancient undying
constant motion, flowing streams
defying all our puny efforts
to trap, define and fix your roaming endless stroll
numberless, units without limits, objective
us subjective
the time traveler’s delight, mind shuttles between epochs
gone to relive, coming to feel and anticipate and feel
through frosty crystal balls,
shady mind prisms and tired eyes permitting
astral and mind travels
mind dragging body
Our error
the attempt to capture
or predict your movements,
when we should simply
play within your loops
that wrap us loosely
and then tighten; you are truly
Ouroboros,
constantly swallowing your own tail
the measure of seasons, defying seasons
ebbing and flowing
value and value, always subjective, never same,
the marriage of intensity, attitude ,
people, person and place parade and prance in your amber
producing passion, patience and pleasure
thundering and thumping
Like you, we should
open these mouths to swallow the past
in endless loops of hunger,
taste what has been
on the way, strengthening us
for the race to what will be
your rolling boundless presence
a glimpse into eternity
no boundaries, binding, bonding
all who live, breathe
feeling raptures and ruptures
departures, returns, beginnings and endless endings without end
the eternal dance and mystery of you
** Susan has wonderfully summarised the genesis of this duet on Time in her post below! Need I say more? Except the obvious – that it is always a pleasure to sing with Susan. My voice is in bold, Susan’s is italicized!
***My duet partner caught inspiration for this jogging on the beach in Dar es Salaam; sent me his lines, and I answered from Eden. The actual time it took to write this piece together was under an hour, I believe, and I love its spontaneity and movement! Hope you do too. (Susan)
By Noel Ihebuzor
shy, fierce, deep, intense,
the heart rhythm and reason
defies wisdom’s eyes
Three balls dancing in space
in place lace us to the larger cosmic circles
of perpetual motion
The blue pearl spins on its toes
in never stopping rolls like a top
held in space in distant but constant hug
by the sun radiating
surges of magnetic and force fields
Locked in predictable patterns
but always surprising us;
the times of sunset known
but not its colors,
the exact flush and spectrum flash of sky
as the axis spins and shifts it to night colors
Rotating and revolving
centrifugal and centripetal discourses
neatly balanced as ordained though slightly inching
imperceptible
Our mother an eye, soft and smiling
a constant blue gaze unblinking,
but kind, a glowing awareness
logical in her turning;
her light beguiles and seduces
in its soft sparkling
as the moon, her hills, and blue seas
use their pulls in equations
to twirl, whirl, and swirl
Caressing and awakening the sleeping ocean
stirring, causes waves, tides, and surges
three balls hanging apart in space, moving
yet linked by invisible forces flowing from them
and causing motions and emotions to rise and ebb
And you and I, also
feel the pull, the irresistible forces
that draw our blood beneath skin,
that grasp our hands to lift and turn us
so we also spin and dance like these,
hoping that our weaker movement too
will birth waves
and pools
***Once again I thoroughly enjoyed braiding lines and interlacing voices with my duet partner, Susan, whose beautiful voice shines here and who succeeds to breathe life and plenty of movement into a difficult topics in physics – motion! Susan’s voice in italics and mine in bold!
By Susan Daniels and Noel Ihebuzor
Noel: If distances were not as long as dark lonely nights
Susan: The callous earth sees to it
that even our nights and days
oppose one another;
but, let us ignore laws of geography and physics
for this moment, and meet.
Noel: If feet could leap distances
ferried and nourished by fertile faith
if minds could travel long distances to their longings
Susan: Then I would fly to you, heedless of gravity, and mocking it;
the sky, neither night or day where we would answer each other
would blush, rivaling the colors of dawn, or of sunset, at our defiance
of the order of things, our audacity.
Noel: If mind, soul and body could paddle silvery
in soft warm lagoons
in canoes invisible to the uninitiated
Susan: Only light the way for us to find each other
Noel: If the journey of exploration
was a journey into the deep self
one of discovery and recovery
Susan: We would range farther
than the resonance of dream language,
sparks dancing past matter,
to a place where twin flames
recognize one other
and blend.
Noel: Would these harsh beginnings
not signal new becomings
and perfection end points
if only we
you and I could kill present addiction
to birth a future full that whispers and beckons
if, if you could, if we could
Susan: We would,
and in our waking walk together
generate something live
from these whispered ifs;
a pale hope, and fragile
unfurls into full-blown being;
yes, hope can dream and bring forth joy
as it breaks and buries bitterness.
Noel: If we could reach within ,
to find that lock to unlock a door
that holds us prisoners,
bound and shackled,
then we would unlock us
this us that currently
glides and drifts, inviting,
suggesting
Susan: Only unchain us,
that we might taste
even a tenth of what tempts us
into crossing these lines
of time, of space,
of who we are now
and who we could become.
***All I am going to say about this is wow, we did good duet, Susan! Can’t think of anything else to add that wasn’t said above – well except, powerful!
He sits and counts the days and the hours
mama has been away to the market
for seven market weeks now
and they all say that this market she went to
is located in some very far away place
and he tells himself that he will ask her
why she did not wake him the morning she left
to go to this far market to say good bye
He had woken up to learn she left for the market very early
at that time of day when the dew and damp still hold lizards by their tails
and slows down their running,
he imagined that she must have left at that time of the slowly approaching morning when night spirits
are hurrying back to their abodes
before their sworn enemy the sun catches
them out and abroad
and so he waits and asks
“when will mama return from the market
other children’s mothers come back and go again
and I sit, waiting for mine, mine who will not come back
mama, when will you return from this market”
And he wished she would come back
he prayed to Chineke and to his personal chi
to hasten her return
so that he could tell her
how everybody had been so nice to him lately
and how papa no longer scolded him
how nda Uzoemena had come and taken
him to mama’s maternal village four days
after mama had gone to the market
and he had stayed two days
he would tell her of all the woman who hugged him
all saying Nwam-oo
and the nice meals they all competed to cook and bring for him
and Nne, his grandmother who held and hugged him,
and the hushed whispers of the women when he was there
and how he thought Nne cried the day he arrived
and how when he asked why
she was said it was from joy of seeing him,
him, son of her only daughter Nwabuaku
He would tell her when she came back
that once or twice in the night
he heard papa sobbing
when papa thought he was asleep
and he smiled as
he imagined how mama would then tease papa,
papa who always said men do not cry
yes, there was a lot he would tell her
how nda Nneka now came over to cook for papa and him
in the evenings and would stay to chat with them afterwards
how her onubu soup tasted more bitter than hers
and how he had resisted the first time she tried to bathe him
a boy of four was a man he prpoudly told her
and needed his privacy
he would tell how he overheard nda Uchechi and nda Onyemauche
discussing the other day
and one of them, he couldn’t remember which one of them,
saying that papa
would need another woman to look after the house, and how
they said Auntie Chimaoge would be perfect for the role
and he wondered why, but he would ask mama
and he knew she would smile softly and shyly and explain
as she always does
and he still sits and waits, missing her with each day that passess
not knowing when she will come back,
very sure she would come home
but telling himself that he would not tell her any of these stories
until she had given him the ripe udala, the akara and yes, the utara ukwa
she would have bought for him from the market,
and then he would hug her and hold her
and ask her to never ever leave him lonely for this long again .
Reflections 