"cowries" poems
There was a time when
all times looked the same
passing through seamless
dawn of ageless drain
We sought, fought and
bought our freedom for an ageless price
At a pace that dares not to take away our
endangered race
But what have brought
this craze of dismembering
the maze we felt less safe in.
The incorruptible men who
once calmed the storm
are now cohorts of a demeaning plot.
Their role in a war of stakes
is a gusty grab for the frontline
as they tussle for the ratio of cake
a game they so delight in.
Exhausted in a place which
was once a timeless haven
as their dignity is torn in shreds.
All sorts of glory are lost
still no one feels this is a shared shame.
If only we knew the journey would abort halfway
but the signs were like flare from the start
as sides became drawn in clear spat.
Two hundred and more of our “prized cowries”
got snatched from our land and our leaders
cannot guard our streets because they say
the times are bad and the enemies are back.
Everything get soured and some of us are left behind
as limbs are severed high into the firmament of red horror
We go hash with our tag
twitting and chanting that they restore our girls
bring back our girls-we pray
bring back our girls- we chant
Bemused, the soldiers assure to search our lands
While Boko bomb us out from our very own sands
Tangled, mangled, limbs and bodies get buried in our time.
© Chijioke Izundu P
Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 3:14 AM UTC
The holy cricket has no reason
To hold its last breath for long
For the royal naked bird
Has no other secret to display
Now see, the enzyme of my heart
Has delivered another staff
Without the knowledge of the ducks,
Let the morning stars rain
My pure dews violently
And allow my wet sun rays
To swim rapidly in the air,
Hmm, if the queen of my air
Continues to harden the back
Of this delicate tortoise,
How can my motionless heart
Find a dripping honey like hers?
Today is Thursday,
Yes, today is her soul day
And tilling of her love is forbidden
But can a cloud full of sweet words
Break the chains of my strong passions?
Let my bitter tongue
Remain silent in his cage
And lose not the cowries and the cola also.
© PRINCE NANA ANIN-AGYEI
Email: [email protected]
Apr 8, 2013
Apr 8, 2013 at 6:36 AM UTC
Has he not been beared
From seas to streams
Marked with cutlasses and ashes
Forced to swallow cowries
Why would he not wear down his face?
Has he not been living
On his choiceless delicacy
Concoction of gmelina roots
And garlic sap
Why then would he smile?
Why would he dance?
The voilent drummers in his skull
Were pounding thier drums
Like groups of carpenters
Driving pieces of nails
Into a hardwood
Has he not been marched
Round the village on pant
Bearing a *** stained with dry hen's blood
And rotten bones and stenching earth
Why would he not dash out his wealth
To seek a neater heath?
Oct 26, 2013
Oct 26, 2013 at 6:45 PM UTC
#*The fish of colour ,swim up and down the stream
In Geometric patterns , serene
Ocean waves on the shore , rush and recede
Empty shells cowries and conches it brings
The crests and troughs in a sine wave
Sometimes in life , the same*#
Sep 14, 2018
Sep 14, 2018 at 7:37 AM UTC
She is witty but subtle and her light skin is the mark of imaginary lines A brilliant colour in figment like fairy light She never sings with water voice or bubble inside empty songs. She is the spectacular,the voice from flageolet and violin flick of soulful heart.I reckon her poem even this ode consoles her enemy of epic jelousy.She is seaview magnificent petal in vase.l wear you a pure crown with beads and cowries of silver colour you own the jupitar in our planet,my wonderful Queen
Feb 19, 2015
Feb 19, 2015 at 1:23 PM UTC
A man amidst two fools
Is a fool, a big fool
So it's for most of us
Cos' we ditch our dreams
To Paul pry with friends
We forsake our missions
For the flash of friction
With cast of distraction
Today might not really pays
But it's the truest of days
Dare not waste a bit of it
Nor spend a morsel like a spendthrift
Invest thy cowries of time
In companies of focus men
March beside valiant soldiers
That thy victory may come with ease
Friends are thy armoury
Don't battle with the rust of them
Thy friends are thy clothes
Don't suit-up with the rags.
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 10:20 AM UTC
No going back
We will defend our pride
Our heritage
Our fatherland
Not with guns, powder nor machetes
Not with armoured carriers
But with powers ancestral
We will visit Egungun Oya
The god of divination
We will invoke Mawu
The god of the Sun and Moon
Have you heard about Babalu aiye?
The god of infectious diseases
Let the games begin
Omoluabi oooo! Omoluabi oh!!
"Bo ba d'ogun; ko d'ogun"
Where is Sango, the god of thunder?
"Gunugu ni oruko, ti an pe Ifa?"
"Okalamagbo ni oruko ti an pe awon Iya oshoronga"
"Abiamo ki gbo ekun omo re",
"Ki o ma ta si were"
"Oya, Amotekun oooo"
When the walls of Jericho fell
How many bullets were shot?
They stood on their father's faith
How was Judah and Jerusalem taken?
The red sea parted by the word
We too, shall speak the word
But now, the words our Ancestors
When the centre can no longer hold
Surely, things will fall apart
"Omo Yoruba, ronu"
Enough! No longer shall our lands be desecreted
Cast the cowries in the calabash
Let us inquire of our gods
Shall we pursue and reclaim?
Ready, set, "Amotekun dee"
Babatunde Raimi
Author/Life Coach/Poet
08178827380 & 08035063895
Jan 15, 2020
Jan 15, 2020 at 4:05 PM UTC
L'afrique
Home of giant eagles
Land of short monsters
L'afrique
Rubies, oil, cowries
Trade route for ivories
L'afrique
Gold, Blood, Diamond
Cold blooded demons
L'afrique
Story for discoverers
Magic for sorcerers
L'afrique
Mother of green earth
Oil goddess of black liquid
L'afrique
Beauty of a map
Fast trampled forest
L'afrique
Milk cheese honey
Rich vast & sullen
L'afrique
Home of the dead
Land of the living
L'afrique
Home of abundance
Land of starvation
Of pains
Of tears in the rain!
Oct 11, 2016
Oct 11, 2016 at 7:29 AM UTC
*Sitting by my bed,
Pondering on this day,.
What could be behind that Bible story,
What could it really signify,
That it Comes with so much glory.
*Then the atmosphere whispers to me,
Beaming a bright and glowing smile,
It is the day of the master,
That man born in a manger,
That man who received those peculiar gifts.
*25th December...
What gifts have u brought,
Or u just going to be like your brothers,
Leaving me with bittersweet memories,
Because I've got no cowries.
*Memories of having to watch mum ,
Go out on this day to trade,
A day which every individual has chosen for a holiday,
To honor you and celebrate,
Just so she could put food on our table.
*Put food on our table?
No! Put food on our floor,
The table is for the rich,
The floor is were we find comfortable,
Filled with peace of mind.
*Like a hare,
My friend runs to my house and says;
Daddy is taking me to banana for kids!
Mum added banana to my rice I reply,
And with chuckles we are both happy.
*Life why have decided for me?
Why have u chosen that I be born in a manger?
Am I Christ?
Would I someday be the master?
*Why have u brought to me,
Too many labours,
Working my *** off,
Like an ***
Would I someday get those gifts too.
#purimon
#lightpoetry
#lightpoet
#Thoughts
#love
#MerryChristmas
#Africangirl
#Neversaynever
Mar 7, 2019
Mar 7, 2019 at 4:51 AM UTC