Virgin Verses : A keg of Poems for a Merry Mind

by Chukwuemeka Mbah

  But hopes and dreams short-lived and ran

  Now she cries out to every woman

  Beware of a promising young man

  He promised to move me mountains

  He vowed to spring forth like fountains

  At my faintest whisper when in need

  And called on cupid to strike him stupid

  If he is short of a word or letter in his creed

  He stands and mopes as though lost in lust

  It is vanity to yearn and lust over dust

  He calls my left keg wonderful

  And the right he christened as powerful

  Both boobs he called beautiful

  He said the sun rises in my glittering eyes

  That heaven is hid between my very thighs

  And will persevere till he finally makes it to heaven

  He spoke sweet sounding sermons as time ticked eleven

  Words like fetters, held hostage a lass due home for seven

  He said my presence did make him shiver

  And for my absence, he’ll cry me a river

  If only I would be his all in one miss

  He’ll treat me to a night of ceaseless kiss

  And our ever after will be made of an endless bliss

  Little did I know that the name I bore was a loan

  Soon I’ll be striped of the same and left to moan alone

  From my heaven he’s got saints numbering up to seven

  Deserted in this lonely cold night as time ticked eleven

  He’s abandoned me and all the saints in search for a new heaven

  UNTOLD PASSIONS OF AN AFRICAN CHILD I

  She Said:

  What are tales without moonlight?

  What are palms without wine?

  Again, what are palms without oil?

  Never a vegetation without soil.

  Could there be kingdoms without kings?

  Could there be royalty without loyalty?

  The African clouds are heavy in heart,

  yet, they shed no rain.

  Those old men talk without speaking.

  So much noise but without a voice

  orators can chant what they may

  but, oracles will show us the way.

  Alas! They’ve taken the lead off our leaders,

  they mortgaged the future and left in sorrow,

  the deformed epileptic leaders of tomorrow. 

  So, tell me the hope of breasts without sucklings?

  They could be big, firm, rage and dangle, but destined to fall

  Show me the dignity of uncovered coverings?

  Tell me the joy of moonlight without tales?

  We hear the cock-crow but where is the morning?

  Empty clouds, lonely nights, unseen mornings…

  Who can tell the passions of an African child?

  UNTOLD PASSIONS OF AN AFRICAN CHILD II

  He Said:

  Come, come, my Mother’s daughter

  Let my sword return to your sheet so, we can birth peace.

  Let’s take the home back to our houses.

  Let’s take back the crowns to our kings.

  Let’s make a speech out of our talks,

  and a voice out of our words.

  If only, every finger will become a hand.

  If only, we can make a rain out of every drop,

  then we can tell tales by moonlight.

  Fetch oil and wine from every palm,

  for the dusk will flee for the dawn,

  and the rooster will announce the Morn

  These I cried as a prospect from the bar.

  Now a suspect wailing behind bars,

  I hear their ranting’s and chanting’s:

  Africa could be potent but, lacks potency.

  Any Dick could have sons

  but not all will be Dickson.

  Anaan, Obama and Mandela, they cheer.

  That one, this one, and that other one, they jeer.

  THEY SAID:

  An African rules America.

  Yet, Africa can never rule Africa.

  That we no longer can cuddle

  The civilization we once cradled

  But, here I am a humble scribbler,

  telling the untold passions of an African child,

  vulnerable to all sorts

  deprived of hope and comforts.

  UNTOLD PASSIONS OF AN AFRICAN CHILD III

  THEY SAID:

  We watched, as he hid his sword in her sheet

  to bear peace but, she bore him

  twins- poverty and penury.

  We watched, as he proposed a health center

  behold, here stands the death center.

  We watched, as he hid his sword in her sheet

  again, and again and again,

  and the pleasure of the process brought him great pleasure.

  The beauty of pain perfected by the joy of gain.

  Here comes the African child

  for in the travail of death, life is birth

  but form dan to sheba, it is rumored,

  African rulers grasp for the food of suckling’s,

  devouring a great future, a supposed reserve of an un-weaned child.

  Yea, Africa’s resources are like her unwary nipples

  ever gushing flow triggered by persistent milking.

  Alas, nations avoid you for your milk is gone sour

  and your rulers have left no integrity in between your thighs.

  Oh! Africa, the same dimples that smiled at your nipples

  now desert you and your longing child. 

  The land could be virgin, no doubt, but,

  virginity lacks credibility when there is nothing

  reserved to feed the unborn child.

  The mammary fountains are left dry

  how will you end the cry

  of this African child?

  DESTITUTE OF OUR LAND

  Now 

  You laugh, they cry.

  You eat, they starve.

  You stand, they fall.

  You walk, they crawl. 

  Soon 

  You sow, they reap.

  You labour they sleep.

  You pay, they bill.

  You hurt they heal. 

  Earlier 

  They hunger, you dine.

  They thirst, you wine.

  You rise, they hide.

  You blossom, they slide.

  If Now 

  They call, you answer.

  They mourn, you gather.

  They perish, you save.

  They signal you wave. 

  Later

  You sing, they cheer.

  You speak, they hear.

  You ask, they give,

  for you lived and let live…

  EVOL

  Love

  If you were a work of fiction,

  I’ll call you cupid.

  If you were to be a sign,

  I’ll cross my arms.

  If you were to be my date,

  I’ll call you February the fourteenth. 

  Love 

  Both verb and noun;

  As to numbers, you are four.

  To colours, you are red.

  To shapes, you are a heart.

  To toys, you are a teddy.

  To insects you are a butterfly.

  The needy call you Charity.

  The pure call you Agape.

  Yet still-

  I wonder and ponder

  on who and what you are. 

  Love 

  Passion, girded with action..

  Cars call you, Ferrari.

  Cities call you, Paris.

  Plants call you, rose.

  Fools call you, sex.

  Humans call you, Christ.

  Scriptures call you, God.

  Love 

  You were Valentine, as a saint.

  You were Theresa, as a nun.

  You are Mandela, as a politician.

  M
any times used,

  many times abused.

  A terrestrial word,

  with celestial origin.

  You make legends-

  those who live and lead a life of love,

  they forever live, those who give and die for love

  THREE ON A TREE

  There were three on a tree

  but only one climbed Calvary

  to find mankind

  he had us in mind,

  He made the assent that led to his descent

  fought and found us in this filthy tent

  with out-spread arms wooing us to his bosom

  for a healing hug, love and life to blossom.

  The world’s costliest transaction ever to be

  was negotiated on a tree of three. 

  There were three on a tree

  but only one turned Calvary

  to a red river

  the very first ever.

  Blood was flowing like a fuming flood

  gushing, washing, and flushing; mud,

  filth, and guilt, from all at the river bank

  drowned in blood, rank by rank, till it all sank. 

  There were three on a tree

  but only one built Calvary

  into a bridge

  fixed each ridge

  to ferry humanity to divinity

  from the banks of the red river drowning iniquity.

  The voyage from this terrestrial ball

  to his celestial shore, was all

  because of the one who chose a tree,

  the cruel but only way to set us free.

  TIME UPON TIME

  On my way up

  they sowed in tears

  and down they reaped in joy

  time upon time.

  On my way up

  they crowned his birth

  and down.

  They mourned his death.

  Time upon time,

  On my way up

  I left her a single

  and down

  I met her multiple

  time upon time.　

  On my way up

  he was the child of the father

  and down

  he became the father of the child

  time upon time.　

  Things change through ups and downs

  time upon time

  but, as God was, so is he now,

  time upon time.

  WANA~BE

   

  Then i saw Mandela

  world's number one, man of substance

  the very epitome of good governance

  protagonist of every story teller

  and guess what it had on me?

  I signed up a wana~be 

  Then i saw Bill

  not Clinton but Gates

  a nerd who has dollar for a date

  I prayed to feature in his will

  and guess what it had on me?

  I signed up a wana~be 

  Then I saw Tiger Woods

  the wild in the domestic field of golf

  preys on flocks of medals like a wolf

  grins from chin to chin in all moods

  and guess what it had on me?

  I signed up a wana~be 

  Now, time is gone and spent

  having within the shades of figures i admire

  and the true me dashed in the mire,

  unfulfilled and deserted in this tent;

  when the truth dawned on me

  A wana~be will never be …

  No one wana be, like a wana~be 

  MY APOLOGIES

  My apologies

  if I have ever stepped on your tiny toes

  or acted just like one of your fury foes

  the blame is not thine

  the shame is all mine

  My apologies

  if I have crushed your tender heart's crust

  or betrayed your last but only one trust

  the shame is all mine

  the blame is not thine

  My apologies

  if I have been construed by you as rude

  or acted in a manner unrefined and crude

  the blame is not thine

  the shame is all mine

  My apologies

  if indeed I have ever called you a dear friend

  but never introduced you to the beginning and end

  the shame is all mine

  the blame is not thine

  A PLACE CALLED THERE

  Not too far from here

  Lies the dream terrace I hear

  The haven of bliss and solace

  A glamorous gem of a place

  The end of a weary quest

  The trophy in fiery contest

  Not too far from here

  Sits the crown we lived to dare

  Purple pride of an intellectual struggle

  The green goal of a ceaseless hustle

  A place we once asked where

  Still seem so far yet so near.

  Not too far from here

  Stand the Mentors we hold dear

  Men who were not shy to believe

  Men who fought fear to achieve

  The exclusive pass to the hall of fame

  For those whose brand is in their name

  Your there may differ from mine

  I run my route and you run thine

  But run we must run and not turn

  We sacrifice pleasure and shun fun

  Because, not too very far from here

  Is a place called there.

  Dare to get there.

  THEY’VE SPOILT EVERYTHING

  Our Land used to be peaceful and fertile

   Then was our flag rich in white and yoked in green

   Thus did the Bees play with the Cows without stings

   Like brothers would their sisters without strings

   Yet soaked our children with milk and honey

   

  Our People used to be lovely and warm

  Young men and women moved freely with uncovered danglers

  We were naked but not nude nor ashamed

  Though unrefined yet not rude nor untamed

  Moderately burdened by the bliss of our ignorance

   

  Then came the white men

  We tasted of their Eden fruit and our eyes opened

  Alas, we saw the greener lawn on the other side

  Little by little loyalty began to drift and slide

  We drove them away too early out of greed

   

  So, your fathers arose to save the day

  Here we are worse off than when we first began

  They being keen to lead and impatient to learn

  Determined to achieve the lusts they yearn

  set on a senseless sail amidst the fog

  Our land is now loathsome and sterile

  It seems in vain the labours of our heroes past

  daily drowning our children in their pool of blood

  A body’s priceless price for a visionless head

  Take this message to your fathers that I said

  They've spoilt everything.

  SHE MAN

  …Then you came

  Became succor to the sick

  Inspired confidence in the weak

  Shouldered the beaten, broken and burdened

  Counseled the weary, woundedand worried

  You perfected their strength in your weakness

  You defied your gender and frame to greatness

  Indelible in our memory is how you blazed our trail

  Now we live in time with your legacy in trail of your blaze…

  2.05pm, 24th October, 2014

  STEP OUT

  There is a frequency we cannot connect except we step out

  There is a frequency that we can only connect when we step out

  Every step births illumination and grandparents another greater step

  Legacy footsteps emerging from years and years of search and prep
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  The path of innovation is a lonely path darkened by ignorance

  Till light dawns and never been done before becomes a chance

  Only those who step out can encounter this virgin path

  Growing to Indelible foot prints like the ancient legendary Gath

  Therein is the higher waive beyond this terrestrial vibes

  A greater level of knowing far beyond the learned scribes

  There is a frequency we cannot connect with until we step out

  There is a frequency that we can only connect with after we’ve stepped out

  Like the spider begin to habitat higher heights with your web

  The harvest will be bounty but the seed is in a step

  Step out!!!

  12th, September,2014.20.54pm

  WHY WOMAN

  Woman

  The essence of a woman is beauty

  Skin like smooth egg shell, carved and curved into an alluring figure

  Flashy face, fine, fresh, sensational and pretty

  But you and I know to beauty there is more

  Woman

  The essence of a woman is beauty

  Mild as the moon, meek, tender hearted, intuitive and soft spoken

  Comfortable in her skin and secured in her femininity 

  Yet, all that compared to beauty is but a token

  Woman

  The essence of a woman is beauty

  Surging like spring, flowing from inside out flashing off her figure and face

  Inner strength propelling her feeble frame from faint to duty

  She brings in balance, order, continuity and grace

  No one has ever made it without a woman

  Through her door we came and were nursed by her mammary bounty

  Like a neck to a head, life becomes more beautiful when she pairs with a man

  For the essence of a woman is beauty

  Woman.

  Woman

  Beautiful is she

  If she adds beauty to thee

  16.58pm

  Sunday, 25th January,2015