Monday, October 12, 2009
Thursday, November 27, 2008
In Moments Like This...
There is an experience of timelessness
Such as no watch can comprehend,
Still...
There is an experience of loveliness
Such as no beauty can express,
Still...
There is an experience of wholesomeness
Such as no pleasure can measure,
Still...
There is an experience of righteousness
Such as no law can represent,
Still...
In moments like this, in His presence,
I rejoice.
©Uche (2008)
Friday, November 21, 2008
There I Stand...
There where we stand as fools for His wisdom’s sake,
There
I stand.
There
where we are weak for His strength’s sake,
There
I stand.
There
where we are dishonoured for His being distinguished’s sake,
There
I stand.
There
where we are hungry and thirsty for His righteousness’ sake,
There
I stand.
There
where we are naked, and beaten, and homeless for His kingdom’s sake,
There
I stand.
There
where we labour, working with our hands for His gospel’s sake,
There
I stand.
There
where we being reviled, we bless for His name’s sake,
There
I stand.
There
where we being persecuted, we endure for His glory’s sake,
There
I stand.
There
where we being defamed, we entreat for His goodness’s sake,
There
I stand.
There
where we have been made as the filth of the world, the offscouring of all
things for His joy’s sake,
There
I stand.
Until
now...
©Uche (2008)
Friday, September 5, 2008
A Cry For These Haunted Ones
Earth wonder’s beneath the night sky.
An exegesis she succumbs to
Cracks the shell of her conscience.
There is a whirling of inchoate obsessions
At earth’s loss; distraught
Without reason,
Shriveling the womb of human enterprise.
Cold night, alone;
In this silence the best noise is heard.
Before I wept.
Vermin at arm’s length nowadays
Cast a shadow of faceless hands, outstretched
To redeem their lust offering.
Unsexed and drenched in the heat of retribution,
The gunmen now bare their fangs at every corner.
I trust that this stillbirth of eternal human lesson
Keeps a contrary pace with the wisdom of the Ancient of Days.
Thus provoked, flesh hunger for more flesh
With very little time to spare;
Thus, confining the fat breasted Love in little cans of unwisdom…
And a host of other things
Including my uniformed friends
With a history of training sessions;
Has wanton corruption brought more guns to bear
On the humble bus driver?
As we continue to refuse by choice
To be what we all ought to be,
Truth is served on a plate of strong iron
Then that mouth-watering diet of lies in elegant casserole.
…The devouring flesh of a wanton polity
Deliberately feeds on the latter, nourishing their pride
As they are rocked to sleep in Ekwensu’s chair…
Death begets a quiver full of deaths
In dearth of the great Spirit;
Who dares propel His earthen vessels toward life’s purpose?
Necessity invents that we must hunger
In one accord for that light which shines
(With healing in its rays),
The most in these dark and darker times.
©Uche (2008)
Thursday, September 4, 2008
“Sunflower”
See how cheerfully you smile in gold yellow,
Unkenneling your ability to represent my sun.
Now, having taught my sunshine to mellow,
Friend of mine, you have become without a thorn.
Let your fragrant oil soothe my heart’s ache,
On the day, your bloom devours my life’s burden.
Why does your golden tear drop at dawn when I awake?
Exalt the hands that planted you in my heart’s garden.
Radiant bloom of beauty! How you blossom in life’s meadows.
©Uche (2008)
“Papa”
Oh, the joys
The pain
The cane that moulded me
The hands that held me
The strong words that taught me
And those toys you bought for me
Oh, the joys
The cares
Through my school-boy years
All for me your tears
Washed my future fears
In my heart your love remains dear
O! Papa
Your love is yoked to my soul
Through my days, in candour
You dwell secure in my heart’s parlour
I carry you wherever I sojourn
You have become my integrity and great honour.
©Uche (2008)
“Mama”
You held me in your arms
And I was a painter
You carried me in your bosom
And made me a star
Your tender words to your child
Shaped my poet’s mind
At birth, you stole my heart
Oh, how I need now your sweet breast
For they nourish my soul
With milk for my life’s nurture
What you placed in me, mama
With your corrective touch
Shall never die through my days
That is why I carry you wherever I go
I could never let you down
I seek to build a fortune
Of love everlasting between you and me
Your love is a carriage to my soul
Through my days
You dwell secure in my heart
Take these hands of mine
And shed no tears,
For a blessed woman indeed you are.
©Uche (2008)
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
The Fetish Dancers
The fat bellied baboons are still dancing in small circles, and chanting
To the rhythmic crescendo of the impecuniousness of the green monkeys.
The wailing of the hoi polloi has deliberately swollen the bellies of the head tortoises.
An ever-readiness of a tyranny of choices;
Civically pilfering the best part of their own people in euphemisms.
I laugh at the repertoire of their ploy, and their agile skanking,
Unearthed by their own embellished unwisdom to fall into a disposition of angst.
I am haunted by the ghost of my childhood in nostalgia
Like a mouth-watering dish of amnesia.
When the spoil of their oil boom rolled their nation to a mental inertia.
Yet, the headship still thread on the same roads their forefathers travelled;
Now they are even uprooting the sign posts to their children’s future.
Even as they hold a candle to the shame of their malicious mischief
In the frenzy of their dance on the precipice of their own fate.
Until now, they have told me that my ears are still too young
To hear the pulsating throes of the sufferers, thicken into funeral songs.
Every desire of their polity churns in the people, a wanton ire.
Alas! Even the schools are dead and gone.
Subsequently, their youths diffuse into a diaspora
Of their every whims and debased forms,
Hoping to grasp on something to hold; a procreation of Area Boys.
A dear friend was ill some days ago
In a town of a thousand physicians, he died anyway of common colds.
Even his sister on her way to see him, had to
Settle toll fees of egunje to the men in black, at every roadblock.
They said it was the juntas that connived
To steal morality out of our storehouse,
Bequeathing a den of crooks and vermin as a lasting legacy.
Who can we blame, when precept upon precept
We have learnt Never to Expect Power Always,
And all trunk calls are ever too busy to connect.
After all, we are the ones who reap from oilfields
Which we rape with negligence.
And shamelessly queue for long hours to pay for adulterated fuel.
Even the birds are jealous of an eternally resting airways.
A worker deserves his wages, that we know
Yet not until the fat bellied ones have become full from feeding their flames.
Their people are daily becoming homeless in one thousand and four ways
And though some have prayed for freshwater
What we get instead is pure water,
The sachets of which later mingle in assortment of debris
Adorning the streets and waterways of Lagos;
The tiara of lost vestige.
What more can I say that has not been said at 9 o’clock?
Is it the ones wearing Agbada and Kaftans
With their bullet proof underwear?
Or the exchange of “Ghana must go bags” laden with
Their loot, then in secrecy, now blatantly;
Or is it the untold story of how they use the resources
Of their people to woo their daughters into their adulterous rendezvous.
Dividends or rather incentives of democracy.
We are the everyday people,
We see and we hear of their mundane luxury
Swiss accounts, hummer jeeps and private planes,
Contractors and white elephants; an ovation.
Some of have angels
And some f us have demons
Yet some still sojourn our terrible roads and some in penury.
…At a time when they began to salt their excrement
To eat, even the salt lost its taste.
Then the redhead lizard lost his voice too
On the day when it can only nod with no other choice.
…At a time when the truth incessantly thumps
On the eardrums of their hearts;
From these axioms we have hitherto eaten the yam of life.
Now is the right time for stepping out of place.
There is something in us that knows that
The echoes of our heartbeat have long gone out of tune with the Great Spirit.
And we even behold that the centre can hold no longer,
As a devious wind rocks the leaders and the led to sleep.
On the day when we finally wake up,
I pray that we may yet dance, but together in wholesome harmony.
©Uche (2004)
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
“Passage to MaƱana”
Our magic of tomorrow is brewed
In the pot of today.
In this broth, the morsels of history
Are stirred by the timid hands of time.
As the sweet aroma of great expectations
Wafts to my nose
My mouth waters,
But it tastes raw
And the morsels are hard to swallow…
Weary expectations have made
A man’s tongue clings to his mouth’s ceiling
Panting from a frenetic chase
Of earth’s gold mirage,
On his way to MaƱana.
Who plagues the heart’s fire
With harsh winds of doubt?
And crowns his task with
Our obsequious rite of vain conceit;
The bane of my ancestors
Whose bones lie now grotesquely
Consummated with the red dust of the earth.
The nuggets of life’s blueprint lie deeply
Buried in the soil of wisdom…
Dig, oh child! And be predestined to conquer.
They will laugh at you,
Hiding behind their coated boulders of fear.
Yet, unearth the truth
And see them tumble down the dirt hills
Of reverse beginnings,
Bringing shame upon their womb of life genesis.
Truth is always simple
Yet unflinching in purpose
To sail the willing passenger
To the promising land of tomorrow.
And she affirms as she secretly tells me
To redeem my time, for the days are evil…
That night, the spider and his queen
Began to spin the cosmic web of their future.
We have kept a long vigil, guarding our dreams
From the tyranny of earth's love.
Now we set sail, beyond all subsidence of earthly sense
Towards the misty dawn, when together
We shall behold the promising coast of MaƱana. We rejoice.
©Uche (2006)
The Gateway to A Painter’s Paradise
Of my love for the picturesque and sublime in nature
My canvas is birth; inspired by the muse of colour.
As humanity struggles against the forces of nature,
A pleasant wind of light and atmospheric effects
Explores the interior of self in patterns and silhouette;
Of colour, pure, applied richly, in flickering strokes,
Conveying intense emotional expression or even pain;
A feeling of ease, more a part of my chosen landscape,
I can feel it from my insides:
And I want to express my feelings rather than demonstrate them.
To live my dream in my very heart
Here I shall have every right.
A brush in chiaroscuro, with the lights in lead-white,
A full blend of splendour and majesty in every masterpiece.
A collector’s delight.
With short brush strokes I juxtapose my primary colors:
Red, yellow, and blue-green, purple,
And vermillion I also blend on the general hue.
Thus, shall I let my feelings flow.
There is an agony that goes before my every ecstasy
When my feelings are unchained and set free,
To wander on mere caprice in the garden of my imagination
Avid constellation of ideas bestow
Upon the benign spirit of my painter’s heart
Just beneath the echoes of my perceptions on display
In grotesque forms on canvas,
Rendering the shadows of my unchained spirit;
Thus, shall I let my feelings flow.
©Uche (2006)
Thursday, February 28, 2008
“Velvet on My Svelte One”
Svelte is my sweetie,
Adorned in her velvet robe of virtue;
Queen of my tenderness.
By dreaming and loving,
I have watched her loneliness
Feed on my yearning presence.
By daydreaming of love,
We have watered little, the
Embers that quicken our tender flame.
Of deluge or dehisces,
In cumulus forms of love cure;
Ecstasy in two skins of fire, to tango.
Mellow in shy lights, she
Dispels my fear of self-denial;
Reassurance and comfort in her modesty.
Svelte is my sweetie,
In her velvet robe of virtue,
She piques my utmost craves.
©Uche (2006)
“Truth and Consequences”
Things would not have been so bad
If we had the things we never had
From the cradle to the grave
Yet, some of those we had, away we gave.
Still from the cradle to the grave, we crave.
Life would be an incomplete picture
If we could take away time and virtue;
And, the truth always hurts like a bad tooth,
This is of little essence when it must have to be told.
Freedom is right here, right there and over there at your feet
But it remains far from those who forever sit on the fence;
And in the midst of all education and religion of sorts,
Wisdom from truth is still very murky
And unclear, therefore yields no better fruit.
Yet, shall the Judge of the earth not do right?
When we imprison the truth
In the hearts of the sons of this earth.
Afraid to take offence,
Or have a chance to face
The truth and its consequences?
©Uche (2002)
“The Water’s Edge”
We fell on our faces under love’s burden;
These angels heard us cry, and
With outstretched hands became our friends.
As lush and rich as green foliage in the sun
May your dew remain fresh for every morn’,
Living love in a life that ends.
And when you may have grief to tend,
We want to be the strong and caring ones
To bear fruits of the blessed seeds you’ve sown
Until life’s troubles pass and sorrows end.
In soul and spirit you are so beautiful
That you bring comfort to all you’re near:
Our pains soothed we remain thankful,
For in you we have learned a gift so dear.
The Lord make you boundless as the sea.
As your seeds become trees along your water’s edge,
They shall bear fruit each season without fail.
Living love in a life that never ends,
Clara and Cresta: these angels make paradise prevail.
©Uche (2004)
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
A Symptom of Our Mutual Need
Now I feel like one in darkness
Waiting for necessary light
To form an expression of my existence
Or as the sea reaches out for the rocks on the seashore
To bring forth splashes of water…
I am that courageous drop of rain
That dares to fall all the way from the heavens
Until absorbed by the earth
Or scattered by some resisting surface…
I am the other stone
You need to strike
To spark a fire
And if you do not believe me then tell me why I feel
Like I do when I am left alone without you…
Why does it take an ear for a mouth to be heard?
And why does it take just a glance to spot a dear friend in a crowd?
A square peg may never fit in a round hole
And a push becomes a pull on the other side
Now I feel like an action waiting for a reaction to occur
Can two walk together except they agree?
And how can I ever be effective without a cause?
Of course, my changes might just be a reflection of you
In our mutual need for existence…
©Uche (2003)
Love’s Undertone
It is a time for quiet.
We behold a landscape in the horizon;
Grey silhouettes against grey skies.
Something in us looks forward to the testing that is to come.
The sea rolls and moans from the seven corners of the earth,
As the forces of life concentrate their energies
Not on display but on survival.
In the beauty of the harmattan sunset,
We could have walked on forever
Through the cacophony of whispers
From the faded leaves of the old trees of our traditions.
Yet, undistorted is this metaphoric symphony
Of life’s oldest tune, beating on the eardrums of our hearts and souls.
The time has come to face the truth,
For we can no longer deny the seasons,
Even as we try to amputate the hands of time.
Why do the birds of the air commune with subdued voices,
As the muted cries of the fish fill the sea?
And why does it take two of a kind o produce another?
Maybe someday, when we get to the depth of the sea
Whose tune our rivers echo incessantly;
The answers shall restore the sublime glory of the earth.
©Uche (2003)
Great Arm of Grace
In apologies, just how much price can we pay
For being who we are and in truthful acceptance?
If I could, I would have to understand
The reason for my heart’s pain.
The future I sought is here and now;
Together we may walk but I shall lead
Rather than be led by her.
Why must we contend always like this,
About this our one salvation?
What has become of this truth which is so paramount?
The power in one sacrifice for our humanity:
I saw it on the blood on that cross and beyond
And my whole life got changed,
Such that deep in my heart I can fly like an eagle.
You can take a piece of me whenever you need,
For the things you think you have
Are really for someone else;
But until they understand,
Their flame will insidiously devour
Their peace, piece by piece.
If we search our minds a little more, maybe
We might just reconcile the reason why
There seems to be no way out of our present corners.
Yet, here we are, separated from the water’s edge
Where the green foliage is always lush for all seasons
And all the plants growing there have their branches
Become like strong arms of authority.
Where love becomes the elixir that heals every pain
Searing apart every gloom on our way…
Give all your strength ‘cos I’ll give mine too,
To get back to where we came from.
Let us sing a little louder the songs of hope
And in faith we receive great promises!
©Uche (2003)
Everwantin’ not to stop
In the inner most recess of my soul,
I perceive You once again in a fresh encounter;
The utmost joy of my soul is in You,
That takes away all my pain and fears
And then I shall begin to sing once more a joyful song
Because You give a sweet melody to my heart
I will shout and rejoice with a loud voice.
In the morning time when I wake up
You are the bright sunshine that refreshes my spirit;
Now I'm drown deep in the river of Your love
Oh my King, how my heart overflows with Your river of joy;
Flowing with grace and mercy
As You overwhelm me with an out pouring of Your Spirit.
Even in my darkest moments,
I will praise You and never want to stop.
Twilight becomes so beautiful
When the sun is setting and the moon begins to glow,
And that is Your awesome glory in full splendor
Yes I adore You;
And then I feel that my heart might more than beat
Just to praise Your majesty.
And as the stars start to twinkle in the night sky
Each of those beautiful twinkles speaks,
Of Your glorious presence in all Your creation.
It makes me want to raise my voice
And praise Your holy name
And I'll never want to stop
'Til even the police come knocking at my door.
©Uche (2002)
Chances Are
Embattled by the choices I make everyday,
Oppositions and confrontations may bloom in my way;
The building blocks of confusion, anarchy and doom…
Where then is my sword?
That two edged sword which
Slices through even the hardest granite.
Chances are,
That I may have left the sword in my sheath.
Yet, proceed I for war?
The battle line is drawn.
Why does peace follow the wake of bloodshed?
T’must be the same reason that every dark night
Always leads to a fresh morn.’
Choices maybe tough, but the truth is sure.
©Uche (2002)
“A Truthful Expression”
If you choose to refuse truth
Truth shall refuse to free you
From these same shackles that have been
And is, will always choose to stay,
But not in the presence of truth
For that which is, has already been
And what is to be, has already been
And God requires an account of every passing time…
For truth has been a healer
And truth has hurt a man like a bad tooth,
Truth has been compassionate
Yet, has been passionately hated, misused and abused
I have seen the truth crush a man’s heart to pieces
And throw him in jail
Yet, only the truth shall set a man free…
Draw near your ears Oh! Youthful fellow
Before you eat up the bread of sorrow
Let no guilt rest upon your conscience
And for truth, do not lose patience
For mercy and truth shall preserve the king
And the splendour of old men is their grey hair
The silver-haired head is a crown of glory
If found in the way of truth and righteousness.
©Uche (2002)
A Chance for Those Who Care
Can we love better everyday?
As if we plan to live forever.
Let us relate with people, integrated,
And in the grace of the Most High
We step out of our past fate,
That He may take us through our future gates.
If we could just get addicted to trust and forgiveness,
Because everything in life is beautiful;
And even the most beautiful things in life are just like that.
The way we need each other
Might just be a symptom of our mutual need for existence,
Or perhaps better secure with God at the head.
We take a chance and live beyond the means of yesterday,
And even the many troubles of today
As we step out into the visions of our tomorrow’s existence;
And in likewise position we can trust,
Giving every account of our faith
As we sojourn this mundane and crooked earth.
In our daily travails, may be a need to stop
Moreover, listen, or even stare, long enough perhaps,
To see those opportunities with forlorn hope
Staring back in our faces;
A chance to show the world we really care.
©Uche (2002)
Freedom Village
In metamorphosis, the wheel of time
Has cycled from stone to steel, a craft of mighty hands;
Indeed, an antitype of a progression so divine.
The strength of the powerlessness of man is
A bit of consciousness and agreement entwined.
The church is the people
The power of the age to come
An urge to commit; even extempore,
Acutely perceptive to kingdom purpose.
The apple of the eyes of God.
A testament of locked up accounts,
Now, thoroughly unlocked by a surmounting
And compassionate scarlet thread of redemption.
With outstretched hands, having waited so long
Yet, still waiting for hearts that will hunger on.
The spirit diet has become unpalatable
In a season of apostasy,
But is there any people asking why?
A rhetorical question, the answer of which
Shall lie only in the hearts of the ones who yearn.
Go forth and hear the Rhema
And how it lights up the Logos
On the roadmap of our life’s journey,
The blueprint is diplexing on a frequency
Of elevated encounters in the Spirit,
Repositioning the House of God
Onto a bold territory of influence.
What are you doing here? Which land do you possess?
For the unfolding of His manifold strength
Abounds where wisdom, faith and love excels.
Yes, our Father has left a will for His House,
And year after year,
Soon, following after the wilderness bouts;
Season after season, the judge announces:
“It is time to flourish in your bounty.”
On the threshold of a new earth
We receive strength,
In the fullness of the Godhead; Kabod.
Celebrating love in all the earth’s abode,
For in mercy the kingdom is restored.
Of the truth who can forestall,
The weighty price since the blood of Abel,
Every of those who have the foretaste
Of Glory divine are a distaste to the world,
They pay for their truly confessed label.
“Wide is the way,” the people say.
These sons of the earth,
That think a repentant plea
Is a narrow minded prayer.
Lord, please tell us, how narrow is your way?
On the way to freedom village,
Bearing our crosses, we have trudged on for many days,
And washing the feet of this weary earth,
‘Til even the blackness of our heart’s skins radiate
The rays of His eternal love;
Through Him we shall come of age.
Immanuel, receive all glory and praise!
©Uche (2002)
Covenant Child
Confusing as this may seem
My whole life has been rectified in Him
Who lives in me.
The electrifying lifestyle of passionate cravings
In unwholesome carnal endeavours;
Every moment spent searching
Yet, undisclosed but still searching…
Neither the deep waters could consume me,
Nor the scorching heat of the wilderness
Fry my soul on the pan of unwisdom.
Arise Oh Jah!
And let your enemies be doomed,
For your word alights the heart of the simple.
The many misdemeanours of mankind,
And my quest to stray from your very sight
Could never misrepresent your love
Woe! To them that miseducate me,
Those that launch the innocent
Into a landscape of misunderstood identities.
You who made me in your very image and likeness,
Let your loving kindness keep me
In the place of your covenant.
Let your kingdom come!
©Uche (2002)
Unchained
Earth-bound, at ease
Is a presage of the rites of perdition.
A rich life, earthen and lush,
Relish and guard your heart son.
The heart is what you make it;
Like the hurricane that snatches the Baobab tree
Off the Kalahari, and casts her
Swiftly into the mighty raging sea.
There is a silent prowler
Upon this alien planet of life;
But I am the light-headed eaglet
Who takes a chance on love flight,
I am a survivor; I chose to thrive.
The cosmic wisdom of the Rock of Ages
Cannot be outlived
Even by eons of time in swift passage.
And the message is plain for all to see
Yet, we have lied to ourselves all along.
Until the Rock shattered my shell of containment;
I toast to the Superlative One.
Because He succumbed to no wretched beast
A broken recumbent self – I.
Severed and set free
From the umbilical cord of powerless heritage.
I wept.
My seasons changed,
Strong gusts of wind
Now possess the strength of the soaring eagle…
Spirit-bound;
Water and fire are life elements.
And this tongue of flame powers my heart’s dream,
Kindled gently in love realm.
Papa, I hear your small voice in the depth of my spirit,
Telling me to keep dying for my love of life.
Now I see an empty cross as I journey
In a life beyond earthly comparison.
In the three dimension of truth, believe;
Therefore I receive the gumption to behold
The treasures of the King’s promises.
©Uche (2002)
To the Ones I Love
Here and now,
I let your atmosphere
Suffuse my reality,
And I delight in the
Sublime expression
Of the very essence
Of our mutual need…
©Uche (2002)
INTRODUCTION
From the day I was born, I have experienced a myriad of emotions such as love, pain, joy, anger, peacefulness, despair, hope and fear. These feelings collectively influence man’s very existence throughout life. I see poetry as an excellent way to express them fully.
The poetry in this book has been structured as contemporary verses to reflect in poetic form the beauty of the variety of my life’s experiences. They have been written to touch every corner of the human soul and sensibilities. My prayer is that these honest expressions of feelings will draw you, the reader, closer to the God who made you, in a fresh and exciting new experience of poetry.
The poetry in this book has been structured as contemporary verses to reflect in poetic form the beauty of the variety of my life’s experiences. They have been written to touch every corner of the human soul and sensibilities. My prayer is that these honest expressions of feelings will draw you, the reader, closer to the God who made you, in a fresh and exciting new experience of poetry.
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