Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
My emptiness
is
the wide space awaiting your occupation
Fill me up with your trueness
Cage me
in the depths of your silence
My heart hovez for you
My lovez nest with you
Fill me up
Fill me up
Belovedz
Inspired by Melancholy of innocence
My dear, erudite fellow…!
Schemed and skilled in academic prowess
Celebrated at your time as accomplished
At your season you were adhered and revered
Extol in your adorn ceremonial gown and cap
That Season are memories well celebrated and spoken of
But seasons come, seasons go!
Old seasons heralds’ new seasons
And yet new season another season
Seasons come in succession and progression
One birthing another, for yet another
And another like in circles
No! not circles of rounds but pyramids of circles
Changing hypotheses Progressing humanity;
Nomenclatures of human existence needing no divinations.
However, Human perversions; greed, pride, and more….
Configurations that have nibbled nature and time scheduled blessings:
A beautiful life, charming nature, a gift scuttled by vein makeups.
Make-ups that changes originality and mars the truth!
Sir, your celebrated research and findings were great yesterday
Beautiful yesterday was history for great tomorrow to cope.
Oh! Beautiful yesterday, salty today not fit tomorrow
The irony of seasons gift of nature but welcomed
Welcomed like the plantains stems that plans its maturity and gives way.
Do we say more?
Of the pumpkins that spreads its hands and tips, anchor its support to grow and births great seeds to replace itself
For posterity is in the replication of self in truth and character:
The excellence of continued originality in human search and psyche
This is the Hallmark of Academic definitions and redefinitions.
Societal evolutions pass on from age to age, from generation to generation.
Wither re’ you’ sir?
-_______________
__­___________       _______________
Deep seethed question you only can answer.
But you ought to know this…...!
The ground is not strong enough to stop sprouting young seeds.
My pain all these years….!
The Heartache ebbing inwards me like ocean tides
Numbs the very fibers of my skin smothering me breathe
Dictating and detaching me from this human beauty
The sun blazing silky sands of the beach do not burn as much.
Decades of wars of subjugations
400 and one year’s war for appreciation
I am asphyxiated by my neighbor’s stares
Stare burning my black skin of its beauty and gaiety
Blazing stares of generational scourge
Contending my gift of strength with gritty bites
Pining down dreams and aspirations of one society
Scoffing at conversations the true Word of creation “BEAUTIFUL”
Proposing a make-believe that alters my inertness.
“I can’t Breathe” “I Can't Breathe” “I Can't Breathe”
Another reverberating echo of lynching and killing of one black person.
Strangulating the common ideals that build oneness.
Asphyxiating both our dreams and vision of commonness of mind and life living….
Our true beauty in stagnation!
(For Flord George May 2020)
In the dark we groove for light
Awaiting again the lion's roar
To awaken us from a stupor
A Maniac infuse to our culture
Mislearnig adventures incured by our search
Searching for light with the touch in hand
Searching within the endless tunnels of knowledge
Bellowing our rich forest and mangroves
Bastadizing the deep sea of life bestowment.
True and of a truth...!
Silence is a guide but we lost touch of the hunters skills
Skills that unwind the pantheon, crossed the hyaenea
And put paid to the antics of the Foxes
Our quest is  now an inquests
Following the foxes of  this sphere in a hide and seek dance
A salient dance of alienation between the Hunter and the antelope.
Will the lion ever roar again..?
Chinua Achebe, Kofi Awenora,Senghor, Bongo Mbeti,
Dennis Brutus, Alex La Guma, Anthol Fugar
Nelson Mandela, Cyprain Ekwensi,
Christopher Okigbo and now Gabriel Okara
....And other great lions
Living and dead whose roaring sounds
Cascades our spheres and beyond.
The great lioness;
Bessie Head,  Nardi Gordimar,Mariana Ba,
Mabel Segun, Amata Aido,, Doris Lessing
Helen Oviagere, Buchi Emecheta.....!
Your breast has not dried up yet
And your ******* still drips with milk of knowledge
Only we lack sulking skills to quesh the hunger and thirst
We cry for trivialities searching for food outside our barns and homesteads
We long and thirst for great sayings with Witt
Idioms with Music accomplishments to rummage deep into our marrow
Pickerng into our very being .....Healing!
We long for the roaring Lions
Seeking sounds to penetrate deep into our  persons
We long for true words and essences
Piercing through  the very depths of our soul

Written by
Otuogbodor Okeibunor  Abuja, Nigeria
— The End —
Laughter gone wearily
but memory of its sound makes us laugh from the deeper lane!  We continually share the sweet sounds of a laughter deposits from a true soul.
Mgboafor, my mothers name.
Names of seasons to live and love
Her mate Nkwo the market
Recognizable had no fight for Eke
As Oye lies around the corner.
Season, season and seasons

Seasons of exchange and banter
Exchange to cherish and savour
What is Eke for Afor musses
As Nkwo do no reject entreaties
And Oye mingles with joy
What Afor, Nkwo and Eke shares and offeres.

Mgboafor, Mgboafor Mgbafor
Your mate Nkwo has long gone
As it never done on us
Her sayings and fears lingers:
Monday has replaced her
And Tuesday supplanted Eke
Oye weeps its exit for Wednesday
As Thursday has usurp Afor.

Your children mourns and groans
In the weight of Friday
To celebrate your exist
And  Saturday swallowed  up
Your caked frozen body to
Mother earth, Thanking God on Sunday
As another Monday hovers around.
Exchange in rounds and rounds
Movements in circles and circles in rounds.

Afor, left without notice
To join Nkwo her mate
Turning deaf hear to Ekes entreaties
And Oye exists in  oblivion
Completing   defiance and disappearance
Of ego and a people’s prides
Voiding recognitions for your children.
Who have traveled far and away

They sojourned in lands and places
You only heard and dream of Yesterday.  
Today the children toiled and labor
In ways you never imagined.
The years pass by the days rolls in
Seasons craws in and out
Your children labors in pain and tremor
In fashions and factions  
They toiled in torn cloths
Crowded by not just the people from faraway land
But contents and ideas never known and sold in our market.
They are crowded with wears Eke, Oye, Nkwo and Afor
Never sold and will never sale.

Mgbo-afor, Mgbo-oye, Mgbo-eke and Mgbo-nkwo
The celebrated names of our markets
Depicts our seasons of beauty and time
The beauty of our women and their wares
Admirable wares that flaunts and flatters the men
Wares that puts us on our toes and gaggles our inside:

Okafor,Okoye,Okonkwo and Okeke
Your male version who clogs around
Peeping your substance dreaming
Making joy of  your swinging buttocks as you walk pass
Farting and panting from the labour the night before.
Celebrating their exploits and conquest
Taking pride you belong to them only.


Okonkwo keeps his name not your ideal
For Mgbonkwo long lost her ordeal.
Okafor strives without its full form - Mgboafor.
Speed has overtaken Mgboeke as Okeke now wears torn cloths
Working and walking in torn ideas and concepts.
Mgboye long lost the arguments to Okoye
A mirage of our time
Living life abridge ideas like carcass.

Our men…..?
They no longer have strengths that
Gaggles Mgboafor’s likes and climes.
As no Virtues chides and glitters the face of  Mgbeke
No Tickles to defines Mgboye’s and Mgbonkwo's personalities.
For we now live in season of pity and regrets
Rounds and rounds in formless circles
No fashionable logic in today’s changing sphere.
The truth of  our logicday
Sweet Sweet Rain
Soothing Fragrance of Hope
Life is Beautiful ,Nature Charming
Love Redeeming, Peace enchanting
Naivety to this facts Harming
Next page