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Best Poems Written by Oliver Okoli

Below are the all-time best Oliver Okoli poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Epicurus Apiculus (Conversation With Aristippus)

You must follow 
Follow whom?
One who knows!
Knows what?
The chief end of life! 
Where does it lie?
In the now!
In what does it lie? 
In pleasure! 
That, may be a lie?

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The Certainty of What Might Have Been!

In the loss of expectation,
for a loved one, a lovely dream;
one that is, one that will be, one that will depart. 
We grieve, we wonder, we imagine.
We wonder about what might have been, 
we imagine what could have been.
Yet, in the uncertainty of what might have been, 
what could have been, 
there lies the certainty of what is, what will be;
the certainty of our love, 
for that loved one, for that lovely dream.
In this certainty, lies our solace, 
sufficient to secure our peace,
stable to stand the challenge of circumstance, 
strong to stand the test of time,
fit to fill the hollow echoes of uncertainty,
certain to dispel the uncertainty of what could have been;
the uncertainty of what might have been

(Dedicated to Dora Serna)

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The Enchanted Foe

The Enchanted Foe 

She lurks in the garments of fugitive empathy,
Her abode is the refuge of burdened and bleeding souls

She is the sojourner in the sanctuary of sorrowful hearts 
Bewitching the bewildered and the bothered
Captivating the wounded and the confounded, 
the baffled and the bereft 

She saunters, seeking the soulful and the unsuspecting
She bathes, as the lids of wistful eyes, 
welling with tears, lent by the old croc,
silver rain from the cloudy face of the pretentious; 
blemished by invisible dirt

She craves the privy to your secrets 
She is nourished by your misfortune;
of which she makes music, 
grotesque but soothing to idle ears

Those who indulge her, 
become music to idle ears
Her instrument is the tongue,
Supine and slyly wagging

Ever a friend in need, 
never a friend in deed
Can’t help, but break aching hearts

She is the enchanted foe, 
rich in libelous lyrics;
grisly but gripping

If her song delights your ears,
it is given, you are a chorus; 
delighting idle ears

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Benign Neglect?

In this life, 
of inevitable recompense, 
of inescapable accountability, 
for collective responsibility, 
indifference to injustice
is not an option;
an epitasis, it is,
in this metaphoric 
epic drama of life

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Pleasant Melancholy

It is symphonic
It is rhythmic
It tells a story,
of love and life,
of pleasure and pain, 
of joy and sadness;
a story of defeat and triumph

It is the invisible book
of the human experience
It has the power,
to move you,
to make you yearn for more,
of its delightfully painful, 
audible deliciousness

It can deliver you;
it can be your cry of deliverance
It is so mysterious; 
it could only be celestial

It straddles the emotions
quietly packing a punch,
but pulls it, only to suck you in 

When it hits,
it leaves no bruises
It knocks you out,
into the habitation of joy;
a relief from heaviness

It is transcendent;
a passport and transport, 
to the esoteric zone; 
the inner longing of the soul, 
warping the time in its wake,
at such a pace, 
that leaves you transported

It blows in,
from beyond the firmament,
riding the undulating,
invisible crests of space

It is copious in joyfulness,
filling the soulful emptiness; 
an aid to cope with the sorrowfulness
of humanness,
reaching deep into the soul,
soothing even the savage beast

It is infectious, but does no harm

It is delightfully musing;
rousing a deep satisfaction,
yet, in it, lies a deeper longing,
for something or somewhere,
fleetingly familiar, 
very present, yet very distant

Seemingly desiring to reconnect,
to something or somewhere,
enchanting, elusive, and disconnected

Shhh! Can you hear it? It is music! It is Jazz!

Details | Oliver Okoli Poem

The Paradox of Law

As the spirit and the flesh,
juxtaposed and jostling,
against each other,
the essence and the letter of the law,
so tussle.

Alas, when in application,
the letter of the law, 
disregards the spirit of the law;
lawfully, the law becomes libelous,
operatively, the law becomes oppressive,
willfully, those who wield the might of the law, 
become agents of oppression.

Unintentionally, the intent of the law is interred,
essentially, the essence of the law is tarnished.

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Divine Impartation

Conforms to the original,
in whose image we are made

Bequeaths holy curiosity;
crystallized in the human consciousness,
spawning the inescapable question:
who am I?
why am I here?
why are things as they are?

A passage to edifying discoveries;
a transport to purpose;
lagrangian to eternity; 
the wondrous, 
yet incomprehensible zone 
awaiting our attainment

Imagination, it is; 
the attribute of the creator,
the fount from whence, 
humanity and reality sprung

The cradle for human advancement,
the wind beneath our wings;
in the continuous journey,
of discovery — tiny footprints,
on the infinite expanse of time;
silhouette horizons —
sketches of scapes of infinity

Imagination; imparted on us — 
instrument to soar above obstacles;
existential challenges,
pedestals to ascension,
in the necessity of trials —
the price for divine profit,
purposefully placed on our way; 
the test to ensure our growth and graduation,
in our accent to unity with divinity

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Away From Home, But On My Way Home

I am on a journey
I have been for quite awhile
I know not how much further I must go

But I know the destination;
it is to be enriched by every life I meet on the way
and to enrich every life that grace mine on the way

So I must stop, 
to smell every rose,
to cheer every heart

Though the way may be fraught
with fog and tempest,
I have no fear and I am not lost
I still remember the way home
and I am fond of home
It is a place of eternal life
It is a house of endless love,
a house of peace, 
a house of joy 

In my home, 
there's always laughter,
hearts never break, 
smiles never fade, 
spirit and flesh never frail
fear is never around, 
friends never leave,
loved ones never die, 
no sad farewells there

I will go home, 
when my journey comes to its end
To my father’s house will I go
To the house of endless love, peace, and joy,
will I return

Into the waiting loving arms of my father; 
into the warm happy embrace of friends and loved ones,
who had been on the journey and gone home before me, 
eagerly awaiting my return

To my home, to my father’s house,
of endless love, peace, and joy, 
will I return

The day of my return, I know not,
but when it comes, I will know,
for my father will call me home,
When he calls, I will hear 
I will answer his call
I will run to my father
I will be home

(Dedicated to Merl Butler)

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Dear Sister

As a rose, 
ever so beautiful, 
ever so attractive 

Perhaps, more so, 
to wishy-washy, 
whimsical wanderers, 
than hearty-heady,
homeward-bounds 

Drawn to your vivacious, 
velvety beautiful petals
Only to leave it,
scratched and scarred
 
As a rose, 
ever so beautiful, 
and attractive
Perhaps, thorns for protection, 
must you have


For MQ

Details | Oliver Okoli Poem

Life and I

For life, were we made
To live, were we given

In life, we learn to live
Yet in life's pursuits, life is spent

In search of ways to live life, 
we there haste

Yet in haste, life do we waste
As haste makes waste,
alas, wasted life abound

In haste, has life passed by,
for life is in a haste, 
it waits not

In life, we fail to behold, 
the essential offerings of life,
scripted on the canvass of the soul, 
revealed in the daylight and silent echoes thereof;
beseeching faces and eyes all around, 
beckoning for life's essence;
the warm and caring humanness, 
the soothing acts of goodwill

For them, life cares not, 
for them, must I care
For in caring, would I have loved, 
my neighbor and my God
Only then, would I have lived, 
only then, have I life