Thursday 17 February 2022

Four Poems by John Chinaka Onyeche


 

My Darling

 

i woke up this forenoon

as every thought of you walls around me

i turn to the side of the bed in search

the sweet wet bouquet of your essence

to me, you are that first lotus flower

the first that the creator beheld and

echoed; it is beautiful, the creation

 

you saw that first sunrise of the earth

the first night of creation you experienced

and the colourless universe had seen it

even in the silence of the heart you existed

 

my darling

i woke up this forenoon

the thought of you has transcended the rooms

the bedroom is echoing loneliness

as i had hoped to be with you sooner

you who has become like lettuce to me

let these moments be memorable

as i dance on this floor of echoing loneliness.

 

 

When He Walked Back home With A Broken Face As The Reflections Of His Heart.

 

Of the highways

that we walked home

Of the distance between

us that we - stared at

Of the courage with

which we summoned up - to live

 

Of the wishes that never came true

- but had turned to wing birds

 

Of the dreams dressed in distress as a garb

Of the many faces that had disappeared

- in their blooms

 

Of the times we had wanted there - here

Of the happiness that alludes us in the

-morning bringing dirge in the night

 

Of the pains that awakened us to life

- for we embrace it as part of life

 

Of the day stepped out to play our

- hearts out in the gathering of men

Of the day our muse left too quick

- that we quivered

 

Of the crowd that gathered to eat our words

Of our muse that echoes eternal lines

 

Of our cultures and what is therein

- in-between

Of the yesterday that we were snatched

- of the time

Of the reckoning, that - the heart of man is insatiable.

 

 

Time.

 

With every smile

           that beams on this

- face.

 

I have learned -

          to put my howls

          in a muffled sob. 

 

For a time, they said;

          it is a healer of

- all men, for boys don't cry.

 

Past, present and future

- time heals.

 

Thousands - of times

          I have been at the

- threshold of times

 

Of howls sniffing 

          for I have made my

- bed with perfect timing

 

To heal the cracks on the

         nectar of a rose.

 

 

Under The Beautiful Moon.

 

Under this beautiful Moon in a dark pane I undressed my heart;

As last night I became one with the stars,

Trying to give my light to wandering souls;

those who died in the streets of life,

Never knowing what life was like on earth;

They became wandering souls cut off from this world.

 

I was in the constellation of the heavens,

Shining my light from the heaven panes

As they explore the lanes in hopes;

"If lands of our wandering are not fairer",

We shall become the echoes of many waters;

As we had once thought: “life is worth it”.

 

When we have burdened our transient existence with grief,

And made our bed with a thousand memories;

each day and night hunting for our peace,

Fears to live without a name muffled us into pains;

Although names of wandering souls are seldom mentioned,

Each one of them is clothed with colours of dirge.

 

John Chinaka Onyeche "Rememberajc" (he/his) is the author of; (Echoes Across The Atlantic), a husband, father and poet from Nigeria. He writes from the city of Port Harcourt Rivers State, Nigeria. He is currently a student of History and Diplomatic Studies at Ignatius Ajuru University Of Education Port Harcourt Rivers State.

John Chinaka can be reached through the following means:

Rememberajc.wordpress.com

Facebook.com/jehovahisgood 

Twitter.com/apostlejohnchin

Apostlejohnchinaka@gmail.com

https://linktr.ee/Rememberajc


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