EXPECTING THE “WHITE
SMOKE”
It was mid
April
The world lay still
The cardinals in hibernation
Hearts in consternation
Eyes glued on teevee,
Oceans of heads at
St Peter’s square)
Awaiting the “white smoke”
Harbinger of the new occupant
Of the Vatican;
Another Karol Wojtyla.
Minds pregnant with desire
The desire to be “mine”
The desire to be a Pope universal
Heaven’s own choice the smoke
begets.
With the smoke desire comes
With the smoke desire goes.
TO THE COCK
Colourful
co-tenant of man
With your wife the hen
By spousely duties enrich man
With the chicken and the egg
Keeping kwashiorkor at bay.
Cuckoo-roo-koo!
Crows and crows keeping vigil
With the stars and the moon
With the night watch
In sleep wakefulness
Announcing the arrival of a new day
Urging sleepy heads to rise to civil
duties,
Like “Big Ben” tells the
time.
Take away the cock,
Distant, the day becomes,
For lack of announcer.
THE ANT
The small insect
Busier than the bee
Doing big deeds,
To a duel challenging man,
Lives in small groups,
Its home the anthill;
As solid as Olumo rock
Erected by solo effort
“No contract award.”
History tells us of a
Mountain anthill in combat
With man’s forces to fell
And to dynamite bowed
The ant, filling past
Like soldiers on parade,
Like Arabs on camels
Crossing over the Sahara;
A lesson for unity.
Cordon off a kind
In distress or demise,
Returning it to base.
“Consider the ant and be wise”
The Holy Book concurs.
The ant the might.
UGWU ONYEAMA
The hills from Coal City approaching,
In its splendor traversing the horizon
Crouching like a hen over its broods
Watchful for the hawk.
Majestic! As it unfolds
Before the discerning eyes.
Your feet, a destination for man
Atop, a home for fauna and flora
A challenge to the biologist
A task for the historian who
Must unearth, scoop
To reveal the relics of ancestors.
The treasures in your inmost
The miner must tap to
Nuture governing tools.
Ugwu Onyeama
Where modern communication masts
Like giraffes, stick out their necks.
Fascinating landscape with
Abundant vegetation in
The guinea savannah.
Your aura of peace
All envelopes.
THE TWO WORLDS
The building
was imposing
It was high rising
Along Nkpor Junction.
A fair for buyers.
Unceasing hooting of horns
From strings of vehicles
Filed bumper to bumper
Like columns of ants.
Okada riders meandering
Like a river forming an Oxbow lake.
Chaos! Fela’s Ojuelegba!
Crossing the road an uphill task
Like climbing Kilimanjaro.
Faces contorted from stress,
No smiles.
Hawkers making brisk sales
Behind the edifice
Beyond the noise
Oblivious of the chaos in front,
The solemn celebration of marriage.
The comely bride beside the
Bridegroom seated, face like a cherub’s,
Surrounded by in-laws.
Amidst well wishers, for a
Relationship among clans caused
By Cupid is being cemented
In the serene setting
Far from the din.
NEVER LET GO
“We’d never let go mum,
We’d ne’er let go your enveloping
love
That cast a shadow on
Our being like the Ozone layer
Shielding His earthy efforts
From the spikes of the sun.”
The three mice in my library say.
The obvious smell rising
To greet the nose,
NEPA unlighting.
Three maidens with cudgels,
With torchlight, like coalminers in
Serious search for coal in
The bowels of the earth
To the library went.
Search! Search! Search!
Between packs the three mice
Surrounding their still mother.
Wondering why she is un answering,
Gnawing away at her entrails,
The entrails from whence
They came, hoping mum ’d rise
To maintain the status quo.
Hit! The maidens hit!
Not one remains of it
The family of mice
‘Cause they ‘d never let
go,
They’d rather defy death so.
