"igbo" poems
First, let me start by Greeting you in Twi, "memawo akye" in Kumasi
And back to my home land, I say to you, "Yene"! in Ebira
"Habri za asubuhi"! from Swahill
Ina kwana in Hausa
Emesiere! in Ibibibo
ụtụtụ ọma! in Igbo
Africa, the home of one third of the world's languages
Here I am telling you Djam walli! in Fulfulde
Nigeria is a power house of over 500 languages
I say Kube lazhin! Nupe
U nder vee! in Tiv
Manao ahoana! in Malagasy language
Ojobe in Boki
Africa! My home continent, where some languages are foreign to most.
West Africa, my land region the Zone of the Giant of Africa.
Nigeria, my Father land! I say to you Good morning in different dialect.
May 26, 2023
May 26, 2023 at 11:43 AM UTC
A single tear.from mother.Africa.
Igbo ?
Kenya.
Jamaica. The.Caribbean diaspora.
Warm.and.easy.... Belize....coool trade winds.
Banana republic. UNU..IS WE
UNU IS YOU.
UNU is unity.
Mar 2, 2014
Mar 2, 2014 at 2:05 AM UTC
Step by step it flows
Unleashing trapped desires
Edifying body and soul
Unifying humankind in entire.
Reaching within depths untold
Possessing, with grooves so bold
With rhythmic waves and strides
Varying from tribe to tribe.
Dancing is a rite
Not a mere reaction to music
Dancing is a language
Spoken in the voice of the body
As music transpires with bodies
Bodies of beautiful maidens
Bodies- voluptuous, with sweat
Leaving our warriors gasping!
Dancing to the beats
Dancing to the rhythm
Dancing in the heat
Like horses never ridden
Dancing is a bond unbroken
An expression of feelings unspoken
Well spoken by the untrained
Well grasped by the unlearned
Birthing in the cries of Ogene
Riding on the waves of Udu
Floating on the wings of Ekwe
Gliding in the ripples of Oja
It is the essence of our tradition
Passed from generations of old
We express it proudly
As we answer the call of Igba.
© Raphael Uzor
Mar 3, 2014
Mar 3, 2014 at 8:14 AM UTC
She said she was Ibo
And spoke with a fake accent
Wanna’s and gonna’s
Littered her speech
Not a trace of Igbo, in her exotic accent.
She smirked boldly
As I answered my phone
Greeting my friend natively
In a lavish of deep expressions
So deep, only Ndi Igbo can share.
With a ****** passport
She spoke better than most Britons
She was born in her village
Yet all she knows is “bia”
She thinks she’s cool, I think she’s lost!
The whole point of wooing her
An “mgbe-eke” from the east
Was so we could regularly, take a break
From all formalities and English
And bask in mother tongues…
I might as well be yoked
With a foreign damsel
For the whole purpose of looking within
Is defeated if your tongue is white
And we can only commune in “oyibo”
Call me tribalistic
Call me uncivilized
Call me superficial if you will
But what you call vernacular
The same is my root. I am proudly Igbo!
© Raphael Uzor
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 6:18 PM UTC
I was about running for safety
when she said she love me
what is love?
on this my empty pockets
her onkempt hair and hungry eyes
i knew she was a spider
though my heart is deaf
Igbo love is costlier in the market
how-come this Yoruba lady
money in the morning, money clockwise
there is no juice left in me lady,
your web had caught nothing
and your tricks I've known.
Jul 23, 2018
Jul 23, 2018 at 7:24 AM UTC
This is dedicated to the millions who died in the Biafra - Nigeria civil war
Counting the losses
Of my people at dawn
Breaking the curses
Of no wholly source
I sought to wage war
Without funds and money
I thought to secede
From a nation strong and many
I was full of envy for vain minorities
I am an educated soldier
Of an eastern defunct border
Proclaiming Biafra
Was so big an agenda
Building militias
To **** and to tether
My opposed tribal brothers
And the critics of my powers
I denied much on media
All that hid in my fingers
My plans I held higher
The proclamation of Biafra
I am an educated soldier
Of an eastern defunct border
Visible to the blind
Were were ready for a fight
Audible to the deaf
Huge price of war to pay
Hausas killed in numbers
By my igbo sons and daughters
yorubas were driven without boots
by my fellow Biafran youths
Ibibios were suspicious
So were Urhobos, Itsekiris and Ijaws
Enmity was at its peak
So high that none could breach
All these were my agenda
My services to Biafra
Was so good for me to render
On May 30th 1967
Was just like a fable
I declared in the open
Without even a wobble
The state of Biafra
Almost complete; an agenda
An anthem was composed
Flag and currency; none could oppose
The heat of the tension
Is such I couldn't mention
The height of jubilation
Not all did it favor
There was sorrow in the land
This, I cared not apart
I was a symbol in the world
For the havoc I did cause
I am an educated soldier
Of an eastern defunct border
The war began
With no money at hand
We fought with pride
With pains in our hands
We fought with might
Defending our father's land
We died in mass
Numbers of air attacks
We killed civilians
Of the tribes against our plan
We'd shoot in the heart
Every oppose we'd catch
Nigerians were too strong
but we swore we'd burn
I saw no flaw
In the havoc I did cause
I am an educated soldier
Of an eastern defunct border
Hunger and thirst
Was order of the day
Sorrow was a pest
and death had no end
Too many burdens to bear
The pains of war to pay
We ran out of guns
Bullets, grenades, even bombs
We had but matchets
Arrows, stones and spears
But We faced an army
Of full artillery
Our tragedy had no end
Even God couldn't help
So our homicide was cast
And We became fossils at last
Let those who seek war; stop and think
The pains of it;higher than that of peace
So I e'caped in a copter
Leaving my people to suffer
So on exile I did ponder
while millions died in yonder
I am an educated soldier
Of an eastern defunct border
I write from the grave
From the hell of my pains
I was that educated soldier
Who took you to battle borders
And ran, leaving you to suffer
I was that educated soldier
Of an eastern defunct border.
Oct 14, 2016
Oct 14, 2016 at 9:00 PM UTC
I want to know more than one
Haitian
I want to know more than three
Jamaicans
I want to meet Nigerians that speak
Igbo
Kenyans that laugh at the Swahili I learned in Berkeley
Ugandans that correct my Mandarin
Tanzanians that teach me how to say it in Cantonese
I want to tour the holy city Ile-Ife
trace the pilgrimage path of Mansa Musa
then circle back to Timbuktu
See the reminders of Aksum
See the remainders of Kmt
Touch the Earth and envision the buildings that my ancestors constructed
thousands of years before they were invaded thousands of times
leaving the still standing walls that others never believed were thousands of years old
till their, “science” said so
I want to board a barge in the south and flow north with the Nile
I wonder what eight others will join me
I want to walk the same trail
that was the first trail
compare my foot print
to the first foot print
The vision I see
The things I want to do
The escape I want to take
Isnt one that is new
Its one that is old
so old that its in the blood
in the very fabric and design
of all that claim
Human
What I want is a realization
no
a reawakening
of my genetic inheritance
of my ancestral birthright
What calls me is the land so old
its true name
its original tongue
is the only
can only
be labeled
The First
There
that is what calls to me
There
that is what pushes me
that is the very intangible force that pulsates my heart
pumping the blood through my veins
That place that is forever older than old
yet
In a constant state of
Reconstruction
Recreation
Revelation
Renovation
Revitalization
Revolution
I want to breath the air in that place that is always in a state of newness
I want to feel the frequency in that place
where there are as many words for new
as there are people to speak them
That is the place
That is the space
That is
© Christopher F. Brown 2015
Nov 27, 2015
Nov 27, 2015 at 11:36 AM UTC
If you want to make heaven
Marry from Enugu!
You want to be successful
Please marry from Anambra
If you want a complete package
Marry an Akwa Ibomite
They attended finishing school
Right under their mother's tutelage
If you want to raise Professors
Marry From Ekiti
If you want to build empires
Marry an Igbo girl
They push you to success
Do you want to maintain your culture?
Mary a Yoruba girl
If you want to be royalty
Marry a Hausa girl
If you don't ever want to cheat
Mary and Edo girl
If your relationship survived this year
Despite its economic realities
Please marry that one
If you desire a beauty Queen
Marry a Benue girl
If you love good romps
Marry a Calabar girl
Your life will never remain the same
And you will live happily ever after
If you want to be loved forever
Marry your friend and soulmate
Listen to me my friend
Don't go for looks
It will fade away
Don't go for money
Someday it will be exhausted
If you want a good partner
Go down on your kneels
Then, watch and pray
Nov 21, 2019
Nov 21, 2019 at 2:42 AM UTC
A boy
A girl
Could be different in many ways just imagine it yourself
I would,due to parents
Yes,due to different home with one religion and different culture
Or different religion , one culture
Both in a special expensive clothes known as G "as far you could remember"
Boy could be you "Igbo, Yoruba or hausa,
Likewise the girl
But goes to different schools and.attain different education with misconducts attitude towards Life
As they both enjoy life in a grips of moment
She forgot culture,
He forgot religion,
As the division of life brings difference between them
She is educated and he is hard working
Both Really have no reason to work together rather than to build a home of one religion and one culture .
I think, Both are in love
With......................................?
Culture and religion.
Dec 27, 2017
Dec 27, 2017 at 10:47 PM UTC
her.
i've been warned of the wicked igbo queens,
who will steal my heart and leave it scarred.
lead me on and leave me lonely
but i was never warned of her,
the one with the prettiest name.
with words like spells that put you in a trance.
her spell.
infiltrates the heart, breaks the wall,
afflicts the heart, longing for her essence.
and makes it all seem so harmless.
even if my heart gets broken,
i'll be left with these memories.
i know it's all worth it if it's her.
the nectar of love only comes with the poison of pain,
and if i was to be burnt, i'd rather it be your fire.
Nov 16, 2022
Nov 16, 2022 at 6:14 AM UTC
Knee deep
I stepped into the water
Not as a form of surrender
Rather an expression of my power
I could no longer stand
Staying on your ship
Therefore I had to leave
You said leaving
Would be the death of me
Death would be euphoric
Opposed to the torment
I would continue to suffer
At your hands
If I decided to stay on board
In this moment
I rise
Only to sink
Meeting God
While ridding myself
Of the devil
That you are
The demons you attempted
To bestow upon me
Experiencing my final baptism
Knowing that
I am sacrificing my flesh
The oxygen in my lungs
I will finally be free
A slave no more
A slave no more
Mar 25, 2019
Mar 25, 2019 at 7:16 PM UTC
The efik/ibibio people might call her ADIAHA
THE IGBO'S calls her Ada
A true born African
her hips seals lips
for a thousand words are wrapped around her waist... And
Her chest carries a mountain
A canaan of its own
Flowing with MILK AND HONEY
even Israel can't compete
for her mind has won more battles than JOSHUA ever did with a sword..
Her dark skin tell the tales of her originality..
She is the African salad.. Every man wish to taste..
The young ones look up to her while their mother's reminisce
She feed lord lugard and Nnamdi Azikiwe even before they knew how to spell their names..
She was there when Ojukwu declared war on her sons and her daughters were made barren..
She is the mother of poets and the inventor of poetry...
Stories were like poems in her mouth even before Hollywood could master the art...
Her tongue had painted more pictures in the heart of her children
so Her HISTORY they never forget
#MAMA_AFRICA
Mar 19, 2018
Mar 19, 2018 at 10:38 AM UTC
I was a young maiden when I had you.
At first,
It was just a flash.
Oh heavens!!!
Such a purity.
Your beauty was such that slapped the strongest of men,
Your depth humbled the most arrogant of them I ever met.
When you stayed,
All wondered.
Never let anyone away without a laughter.
Your shadow I saw my lips stuttered.
The days decided to be two decades through the night,
Yet I held you as a treasure through the flight.
Too precious to be drowned in my mind,
Now tells me why your crown was taken to a hive.
You may not know how firm I stood with bows and knife.
I took down one I thought was a foe.
The blood that day from there still flows,
Then I knew you bowed and left your might.
Four score five today.
I still wish,
Wish that that Iroko in the centre of Igbo Olodumare still stood.
But alas!!
The low in wisdom conspired,
And cut down the most admired.
Oh, my dear
My world
My TAMAYA!!!
May 24, 2020
May 24, 2020 at 7:43 PM UTC
My country will have wings to fly.
As long as there are young people like Betta Edu,
She will make my country fly into the sky.
I can see Betta Edu.
A woman like many men.
She is fearless, and she is brave.
A true politician is not a snake in the grass.
Edu is a very hefty elephant.
She is a tiger that doesn't bite.
because her gentility is soft.
And she's a very charismatic lioness.
She deserved leadership.
She is originally from Cross River.
Women, there, they are not joking.
They are known to be peaceful.
They don't have any ethnic or sectarian beliefs.
Everyone is hers.
Hausa is all hers.
Yoruba is also all hers.
And also, Igbo is hers.
The south and north are all hers.
Men and women are known to everyone.
Nov 2, 2023
Nov 2, 2023 at 8:32 AM UTC
i met him on a tuesday
he became my meantime
in between time
after work
before work
i had to have a hit
his scent was
the perfect balance
of ***** and shea butter
a proud igbo man
through him
i connected to the motherland
through him
i almost disconnected from reality
May 24, 2019
May 24, 2019 at 12:33 PM UTC
In the land of Igbo, where stories unfold,
A soul bears burdens, both young and old.
"Why always me?" the heart does plea,
In the rhythm of life, a poignant decree.
Beneath the palm trees, where breezes sigh,
Ancestral echoes in the crimson sky.
Through the hustle of markets, tales untold,
The query persists, a narrative bold.
Is it the weight of history, a heavy chain?
Or destiny's dance in the pouring rain?
In the dance of kola, where traditions blend,
"Why always me?"—a query to comprehend.
Through the bustling cities and village lanes,
Resides a spirit resilient, amidst life's strains.
In the echoes of language, a melodic plea,
"Why always me?" in the Igbo symphony.
Yet, amid challenges, strength does rise,
In the tapestry of struggles, where hope lies.
Through the echoes of ancestors, resilience we see,
A vibrant spirit asking, "Why always me?"
Dec 22, 2023
Dec 22, 2023 at 5:10 AM UTC