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My emptiness
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
Inspired by Melancholy of innocence
Droplets of dots my leaking inks espousing like vapor on mirror, dew on leaves my heart dots my love expressions.
Of fallowed creativity
Land left untended
  A broken mirror
  Catering away the cause of art
Picking the bits and pieces
our divine cause
And poetry our given tool!
By Otuobodor, Okeibunor.

The long ridges of farmland
Are the stretches of our Mindscape
Sun and rain upon
Sprouting with life to feed souls.
Ezi,is a town in Aniocha North local government area of Delta state in Nigeria. It is my native town. We are mainly farmers and the first West African Roman Catholic priest; Fr P. Emecheta who died in the twenties is from Ezi.   I love my town.
Sweet Sweet Rain
Soothing Fragrance of Hope
Life is Beautiful ,Nature Charming
Love Redeeming, Peace enchanting
Naivety to this facts Harming
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.
I fly not on wings of folly
Nor in self deceit
Destroying my person
I hover not on smeared words
Of Vulturous mission
Nor on Kiteous skill on mother hen
I swaive  on wings of truth
Surging through the horizon
Souring high above the orbit.

I fly across weathers:
Through the sun
Through the rain
High in clouds above the winds
Finding my strength on will
Favouring my cause on trust
Trusting my vision with precisions.
Like the eagle to the eaglet
I spread my wings of love
Conquering Tribes, Nations,
Continents, Race,Religion and Heights.
Thus i fly to reign.
                             BY OTUOGBODOR, OKEIBUNOR.

In the Beginning
By Otuogbodor,Okeibunor

In the beginning
I am branded the hope of there expectations
At my birth, divinations attest to it
And libations gave seal to this fact.
My training and experiences confirmed it
For I lighten the world as a medical doctor
Shaking the earth with my appointment at the state
Hospital; “He is our son, a great son,I weaned him at birth”
“Yes,I remembered him, he use to run around necked”
“And cry on our way to the stream.”
Such was the echoes of the joy and solidarity in there voices.
But here I am mangled in diversity of ill-treatments. Not I but the system.
Surforcating and subjugating the hope that liven them;
Headace, fever, stillbirth, no drugs, fake drugs, vomiting,  
More death,------------------- the list is endless.
The healer needs healing, for the torch bearer is in-search of light
This is the crossroad of there faith that was not
In the beginning.


A peep at the clouds
A dance with the moon
A view of the skies
A berth in the sun
A flash of the blues
A soak in the rain
A wave of the breeze
A cheer(s) with the lips
A life flow of the spirit
A health to our souls
Of these celestial harmony
Oh! Terrestrials………..
Dance, glo, wave& cheer
In this ballet of time
The rhythm of the hearth;
    Our soul’s joy
The mindscape at peace
A display in our faces.
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)
You are my wife,you are my mother.
You are my auntie,you are my sister.
You are my girlfriend, you are my acquaintance.
You are my niece, you are my daughter.
You are a widow, and even my grandmother
I celebrate you!
You are divine,epitome of strength.
You are not just a Woman
You birth and nurture generations after generations.
You soften rocks, coarse floods,
You melt metals and water existence.
You give motion to life
You are The Worthy- Ordained Mother to Advance Nations.
Yes You are a WOMAN
I Celebrate You Today and every day .
By Otuogbodor Okeibunor.
Of a beautiful dream
Transported to a realm
That bore peace and joy
The sea ebbs and flow
Waving splashes the silky sand
In smooth, harmonious rhythm
With the whistling palms
To winds beats and songs.
In the heart of the mangrove
The trees wave its leaves
Swell Swaggering to the beats of breeze
As the birds soar higher and higher
In shades of clouds
In shapes and colors
Casting beauty in perfect strokes.
Music of the winds
Harmony of purpose
A joyous soul to live
The landscape in dream
A shadow of the landscape within  
Only a dream!
Only a dream!!
Coming through the windows
Our bedside lamp in bow
In welcome of your brightness
With Hope, peace, and happiness
Oh! You unveil
A new beginning with love
Carried by your light like dove
A beginning full of hope
Mother’s knees bent in devotion
Counting beads as in meditation
At the ancestral shrine
Father pours libation
Breaking kola nut as in occasion
All in welcome of you

Ewoo…!  Ewoo..!!
Seven piece from one kola
This is an Omen….
Father in great awe
Mother seems far away
Both in conflicting hope
Your light shine for us to cope
You shine with promise
For us to work and not miss.
Fellow; lets embrace this light
And walk our paths with strength
In oneness to love
In unity to wit
Kola nut is a very important nut used in most occasions in my African. We also  use kola nut to welcome our visitors. It has different names in our diverse language and culture, but serves the same purpose. We call it 'Oji' in Ezi my lovely town.
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
I am born to be me
As me I grew
Blistering and blooming
In youthful ego
Detach I from me
I am unique
How about me?
Meticulous and dynamic
I am articulate to me
I admire me
I challenge me for
I go heights I take me
For me I am indispensable
Me and I
A phenomenon
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 —
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.
Our love is a given.
Precise! Succinct! Intentional And Directional!!
WE speak in one voice and we stick to the rhythm and tone of our voices.
Our voice  are devices
Music to dance to and feet to swerve.
Yes! we will swell and swerve to this rhythmic  tunes and turns of our collective voices.
And like David of the Great Book we will dance fearing no nakedness.
This given love will strive Omalicham.
Omalicham is an Igbo language expression to mean my beautiful .
At the mountain top view
Illuminating visuals like silver flare
Stares us in subdued humility.
Dawn rock bottom
Lies in stretches of defeat
Like lighting flashes peeps in
Memories of our climb
A turbulent journey indeed
S­o man can conquer
And poetry to the rescue!
I am an African
A true son with pure blood
I have clean immune cells
Growing my tissues
Strong virile bones
Supporting my biceps.
I am an African
Proud,bold and even beautiful
I have flawless black skin
Emitting sweats with taste
Nourishes with love and gives flavor
Making me the worlds envy.
I am a black African
With limitless gut and zeal
Blessed with great and creative mindscape
That matches the vast landscape.
A true son indeed!
Spreading the true love
Of my African heritage.
We all are structured by stories
From singularity to plurality
We are tales ups and tales down
Tale tells of uniqueness and exciting adventures.
Stories experienced and Stories told.
We are single stories mingling in diversities
Expressed and expressions of multiple selves.
We are individuals stories found in the collective
And collective in the individual.
We are stories in time and space
Tales of distant past and discoveries.
Legends and myths
Of one story and all.
We are truth ,contrive facts and fiction .
We are truth told, lies covered
The told lies and truth untold.
We are Mars Jupiter, Plato venus and earth.
We are ocean,sea and rivers. Streams, falls and ponds.
We flow and stagnant.
we are Alien,beast and humans
We are moon,clouds,Stars and Sun.
we are light and darkness
We are dawn,noon, day and night .
We are foreseen and unforeseen, stories rejected and Stories celebrated.
We are magic and miracles.
Circles and seasons.
You and me structured.
I am the new story
The story of being and nothingness
A Story where all guards is  let loss
Where glory is only of the Most High
The benefits I abound And the crumbs my satisfaction.
Drunkenness when on display not loss of mind
Mockery  could be the seeming perception
But true brothliness is key to sharing
And pride of friendship brotherly protection.
Value is layed  on appreciations  
appreciations of me and you
Our applications of Self in truth.
Truth of you  and me to honor
Of being and nothingness,
Of mind to guard
of our dusty flesh to guide.
To guard and guide a duty call.
Stupor and sensibility are tenets
Liquor is good but temporarily.
Sensibility is awesome and sensibility wisdom
A guided Spirit not a dampen soul.
My story is of self truth,
Truth of mind  made up
Truthfulness seen not told
A different me A different story
Heard from my preciousness of heart.
Golden and curative are gracious, my friends.
We Hunger and thirst for who we truly are
A never ending self search
As We strive for nakedness.
What is it about blood?
What taste that so embalmed the sensibility in grease redness
What pride in spillage of our souls
At the alter of greedy cacophony.
What beats birthed this dance of blood spree
spiking missteps  in  dance hall
dismemberment of souls of sweet love
What heart adjudged my trueness of you in this fusion of blood lets in Scaffold's and veils of religion, in cultural biases and skin pigmentations.
As the sky hoovers and clouds empties itself my soul and love I pour offering that one thing you desire... Trueness!
The singleness of our blood colour.
Let our  blood  mingle in oneness of flow
And Our love swings in smoothness of heavenly cast like coasting clouds despite variations.
Our love is the true taste of blood and the true colours of our being.
Love is Heavenly.
The painter in Me
By Otuogbodor, Okeibunor

I paint not with brush strokes
On weary canvas
Nor with mesh colors
Darkening my concepts.
I paint using no tattered Coates
Expressing my pains
Nor with mute abstracting mixtures
Contradicting my designs.
I paint with words straighten in lines
Juxtaposing my world in humournic gospel.
I paint with lyrics n rhymes
Soothing the souls of my clime
Positing joy n laughter.
I paint with literally candor
Subjecting pains n sorrows
Mirroring my world in truth
My rhythms of love n peace
The only colors I know.
My language is succinct
Rendering sounds of blue n bliss
Greasing  humanity crave to live.
I plaint not with staled oil Coates
Staining the muse of creation.
I orchestrate my colours in word vibes
Thrusting my Visual syncs to heal
For I  cream my onions with ease
Printing my ego on black n white.
Oh God bless this painter in me!
The Seventh Floor
By Otuogbodor, Okeibunor

He just saw her downstairs seated
She saw him pass by but noticed him
He went up to the seventh floor
She breathes the air of freshness
Freshness from home, freshness to school
His mounts of the stairs mounts hope
She sat solitary savouring that air of hope
The university,the hope shaper
The dream comber, ivory tower,
A monumental hope to mount.
One hour past, from that height
He looked down he saw her
She looked up she saw him
Eyes  locked in seconds
Hearts lost to hope
He held his heart lost
She looks her hope not sure
He dare called she dare answered?
Clutching her bags she mounts the stairs
The university stairs to mount in years to come
He stood there on trembling feet waiting
She climbs on and up,on n up
Up the height their  hope clingy
He is up there she mounts up to him
At the seventh floor to  meet  him
As she makes it up all eyes on her trail;
Noticeably slim model of freshness
Admirably everyone to behold
She climbed up to him
Before him she stood
His call she dare answered.
Transfixed! He took her bag
Willingly  she gave him
The floor quakes! The feelings of not just two
The feelings of an age quakes
The hope of many quakes too
The seventh floor quakes!
The waiting room quakes
She enters with of all but him!
He Leads  her to a chair
Her tired Legs grateful.
A sachet of water he gave her
Her thirsty soul appreciative.
He loved her immediately!
She sips the water genuinely thirsty
And She saw the eyes!
His eyes  beholding her.
Her nerve quakes the water pours
Pouring on her chest her white shirt dampen
The chest thumping reveals her Breast
A beautifully moulded set of young Breast
Breast shaped by only the Almighty!
Breast only can be possessed by a Goddess.
Adorable set of gem like diamond points at him.
He looks on. All in the room looks on.
He breathes hard like he just climbed the stairs.
In shock he brought  out a brownish white handkerchief
Dampen  the  chest staining the wet area
She felt his hand. He touched her soul.
The seventh floor quakes the more
Quaking the very foundation of hearts in the room.
He looked her in the eyes , kissed her forehead
She quakes inside of her
His very soul sincerely stared
Her very innocence quakes.
He mutters this lines;
    ‘Be mine sweet Angel’
Her soul heard the lines from a distance
Transporting further the very quake
Whose after shock will last for years.
He was in his third year fed for himself
She was in her first year in daddy’s shadow.
Tortious was the climb
Broadlynarrow was the road
Choice was  a task
Trust…! a life bet
Two hearts-dice juggled
The quake was seconds still
Single mindedness was the decision
The mindful was n is the after shock.
Her friends bemoaned her
His friends fearful cheered him
Her mother cautiously careful
His mother hands off n up in prayer
Her father tearing n threatening.
Thundering his nerve to the brims
She remained obstinate n focused
He remained supportive n sacrificial
Sacrifices of an umbrella in the rain
She appreciated him. He protected her.
He provided the hanger for her  grip
She stretched her arms like the pumpkin tongue grips
The vow of  protections as a service  after graduation.
A service not to a fatherland but for truth
Truth of two souls in opposite divide.
The protection from unspoken facts
Facts only known to one n whispered to the other.
The bet on Trust not Love?
And four year stroll  past
For time crept in to birth a newness.
A new birth n a new day of destiny berthed
As fortune of two set sail
And another two stuck on the hyacinth.
She mounts the podium
He watched from afar in tears of joy
She was the best in the pac
He made it happened
Her mother esthetic n jubilant
Egoistic  father puffy with pride
The pac applauds success n true work
She worked for it. He saw to it.
A synergy of trust for result seem unattainable
Impossibility made possible
Success he desired but archived in her.
She is rewarded for excellence
He is rewarded for steadfastness
Her mother is rewarded for unspoken fear from shame
His mother is rewarded for daily travails in prayer
Her father is rewarded for money spent on trivialities.
The reward of one pervades a whole lot
Avalanches of rewards open n secrets.
UnOpen secret between father n daughter
Shared secret between him n her.
She collects her award admits ululations inside of her
He feels n knows her pain admits the atmosphere
Her mother is carried away like the gele she is wearing
Her father boastful in an atmospheric  blindness for his money's efforts
Her hearts inner workings is detached from the day's euphoria
He standing at the distance transmutes her experiences
Experiences of a father who knew only his desires
Desires bought n explored from every available mode.
The university was a safe heaven for her
He provided the guard and guidance she lacked at home
Her encounter of him n the journey to the seventh floor
Shaped her to today n assured her of tomorrow
True  love stands like strong pilar  
He longed n gave love he wanted n  never had
She believe n trust for him save the climb
She is a daughter her father only knew  in the dark
He is a friend who is a true father n never had one.
Drives n ponderings of the hearts
The podium is for gallery elicit joyousness
Joyous celebrations into the night.
The night comes with  it's sounds
Darkness comes with it's secretes
Tides n storms in dark hearts alleyway
Lighten flashes schemes it's way in the dark tides of time
The heart thunders in ‘tick ****’ motion of time
Tale  trail to time
Quest of two in timescape alley
Time: a healer n a judge?
Time n space bridged reward
A collusion of hatred n love rewarded.
The reward of time is unquantifiable  
And timeless is its weight.
The weight of love prompted a search
A search for his father
A search for her true father
A father who constantly seek n desires  daughter’s nakedness?
A mother whose silence at the face of such shame?
Truth bound by time  rebounds in space
Complicit of two self lying marriage between man n woman
Rebounds in  two young honest lovers
The happiness of youthful individual being sacrificed?
The weight of a DNA is  love for him and her
And hate for father n mother .
Her mother was shameless n still is
His father was irresponsible n still is.
The early light dispels darkness
Darkness of the heart under a fretsaw
Patterning  in style  actions of the dark
Every secret did have open reward
She was n is her mother from a man she refused her knowing
He was his father Who absconded 33 years ago
Hiding in the arms of another woman bewitched?
Likes begets  likes in a mate of two deluded snakes
Living in the dark holes of there night
Orchestrating symphonies of lies n lies
And now likes dogs leak their  poisonous venom.
At dawn light gains its penetrations
Penetrating the very marrow of truth….!
As Morning dawns with it's dews
A climb to the seventh floor was the dew.
And light melts away this dew
Shining in the life of two young fellows
Who loved from their souls.
The poem is still a work in progress, will like to make it better.
The journey began
in the Penitentiary of coarse and jumbled words
I co-traveled in mindscapes routes
Through space and time.
Bridging gaps of allegoricals,
With similitudes and spices of irony.
Who needs healing from this haughtingly confinement of words imprints in verse and stanzas.
In rhythms and innuendos.
Personified but divinely devoted
My Lunacy of words in text and lines is one I will happily partake of  always
I will wine and  dine in this table of perceived lunacy because here in is true sanity and logic of human tendencies
Embossed in art.
I crave to bloom and bloom on you
Loath to shine on in your sadness
I long  to be the sun of your brightness
I wean  on thoughts of you
Like a toddler I dread the first step
But my leaking inks urges me on
lurking thoughts of you flows on on
I can express in shades of whites and black lining dots only
Hoping to make imprints on you
Blaze your heart with shining crystals
Of lyrics and words as you flip the next page and scan the lines of you.
May my unskilled dots charm that innocence of your unspoken love
And sooth like a balm that pain in your inner space for your love can flow still.
And this love my wet ink will share.

— The End —