(Dedicated to the late Prof Chinua Achebe)
Mountain ranges in the east wind,
Like wet dew on a grass.
Amid soggy tears,
Enthusiasm denies us.
Squeal of gongs and drums
Sound throughout the land,
North and South:
Poignant blood runs through our veins.
Indeed, things have fallen apart...
Spring thunder -The Iroko has fallen!
Albert Chinualumogu Achebe.
You it was who issued the great call
For us to rebel against despotic rule.
A glittering colossus among literati,
With an esoteric mastery of proverbial dictions.
The literary luminary and patriot,
It's the very best we have had.
Storms of the societal reformation
have brought a flowering of heroes on the land.
In the wind and thunder of cultural revolution,
The rising sun casts a myriad reflections.
Achebe's thought glows golden bright,
Struggle-criticism-transformation;
flowering everywhere.
Though the dogged messenger has become silent,
The candid message-wave still dance in my ear,
I wipe warm tears from my eyes,
And press my hand to my throbbing heart,
Keeping the peerless books in my *****
Oh yes! Achebe was here,
And we felt his magical pen.
Adieu! Great Iroko of our land.
© A. O. Nwulia Literary Diary 2013
Mar 18, 2017
Mar 18, 2017 at 3:26 AM UTC
(Dedicated to the late Prof Chinua Achebe)
Mountain ranges in the east wind,
Like wet dew on a grass.
Amid soggy tears,
Enthusiasm denies us.
Squeal of gongs and drums
Sound throughout the land,
North and South:
Poignant blood runs through our veins.
Indeed, things have fallen apart...
Spring thunder -The Iroko has fallen!
Albert Chinualumogu Achebe.
You it was who issued the great call
For us to rebel against despotic rule.
A glittering colossus among literati,
With an esoteric mastery of proverbial dictions.
The literary luminary and patriot,
It's the very best we have had.
Storms of the societal reformation
have brought a flowering of heroes on the land.
In the wind and thunder of cultural revolution,
The rising sun casts a myriad reflections.
Achebe's thought glows golden bright,
Struggle-criticism-transformation;
flowering everywhere.
Though the dogged messenger has become silent,
The candid message-wave still dance in my ear,
I wipe warm tears from my eyes,
And press my hand to my throbbing heart,
Keeping the peerless books in my *****
Oh yes! Achebe was here,
And we felt his magical pen.
Adieu! Great Iroko of our land.
© A. O. Nwulia Literary Diary 2013
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