Every line has a meaning; every meaning has a line…
We think we have the worst story;
We heard other’s, we exclaimed, ‘GLORY’
It’s cold now, when will it be hot?
Now it’s hot, Oh Cold! Be our lot
When it rains, we crave sun;
Now it scorches, we say, ‘Rain Is Fun’
We dream, but are afraid of its reality
We see reality but fantasize on fantasy
We despise love—it’s cheap but deep;
We idolize hatred—it robs us of sleep
We want the flower, the tower and the shower
We want the whole world in our power
We want this; we want that
But we have neither this nor that
We want to be here, and there
But we are neither here nor there:
Joyful in sorrow; sorrowful in joy
Happy in sadness; sad in happiness
Laughing but crying; crying but laughing
Sane in insanity; insane in sanity
Filthy in holiness; holy in filthiness
Fearful in courage; courageous in fear
Poor in riches; rich in poverty
Healthy in wealth; wealthy in health
Love in lust; lust in love
Beautiful but ugly; ugly but beautiful
Speaking but silent; silent but speaking
Thinking while sleeping; sleeping while thinking
Filled with emptiness; empty in fullness
Abundant in lack; lacking in abundance
Fruitful in barrenness; sterile in fruitfulness
Praying in despair; despair in prayer
Strength for weakness; feeble in strength
Honesty in dishonesty; dishonesty in honesty
Peace in war; war in peace
Civil but military; military but civil
Goodness in evil; evil in goodness
Rising but falling; falling but rising
Coming but going; going but coming
Dead but living; living but dead…
To win or to lose: to be used or to use
Man is man when man knows man
Death will die, and life will live…
At my pious avowal, my seed was sown.
A new vision, my liege Lord's race is known.
Century said he'd lived earlier to lead
Believers on how to water the seed;
and gather more fruits for the barn he build.
Some will fall on thorns or stones; better a field
To receive a hundred fold increase, lest
I'm bereft of my bounty soul harvest.
I didn’t scoff the grub;
for pleasure and sanit I scrub.
To doff trite piece of food
is my calling from the wood
When man meets assorted meat,
I grieve for the chewing treat.
I’m man’s aurora friend.
Like the Ultimate man, to the very end
I search for decayed morsel particle;
to restore man’s fresh breath is my hustle.
Cast me away and man’s teeth will hide;
his tongue won’t glide – that’s my pride.
I’m his quotidian servant-master
adorned with creamy butter
to evict stinking gums from vocal isle.
Never weary, I renew his oral smile.
Unknown, strange faces;
We are united
in the experiences
of classes to halls,
of tests to exams,
of rainy and sunny days,
of tears and laughter,
of fear and hope,
of friendship and enmity;
but in Love’s loving arms.
In the darkness of ignorance, we began,
In the light of knowledge, we part.
We were early risers,
We were late comers.
in this intellectual confinement:
We are imprisoned to embrace freedom,
We are nurtured to become the panacea.
We are departing,
Known, familiar faces.
(for my graduating class University of Lagos 2013)
©Angel Simon 2013
A REQUIEM TO MY PRECIOUS LEGS: ELEGY TO MY PARENTS
FREE VERSE FOR MUM
My birth remark reads:
You tramped for a season
With a puffy trunk
Along dangerous paths—
Waded on puddles and quagmire,
Scuffed your flat feet and
Trampled it on serpents and scorpions
To bid my glorious existence…
I lost my balance
When I felt your expiration from my pubis.
I staggered in pain
Like a fowl stripped off by fierce breeze.
Which a thousand-and-one-princesses adore—
The trunk you both carry—
Through rocky hills and sloppy mountains—
Is now an elephantine for the other leg.
Oh! Your cessation is at break of dawn
You danced to the tune that glooms souls
You are bereft of ambling
On such and such burg…
You hurried for the Golden City.
The scorch sun and mild moon cloy
You take pleasure in the one-off of quietus…
With streams of briny water
Rolling down my cheek,
I watched you wriggling helplessly to and fro—
After being ricocheted on Death's spindly pole:
Death clasped your brawny brittle bones.
You swell, swelter, near bursting,
Impatient for suppuration in your crimson attire.
You scoot the living abode
On mutilated soles and toes;
My precious leg!
In your gracefulness,
I created beautiful traits.
I'm left limping as you're supplanted
By quasi-legs and crutches.
Will you ever return?
Even in posterity…
HAIKU FOR DAD
Dad! Why? Another crutch?
Both legs amputated
You couldn't stay; you loved mum.
Your Love, Angel Simon.
On Christ The Solid Rock I Stand...*tears*
My wish: that this poem be posted daily because it’s somebody’s birthday each blessed day.
TO YOU ON YOUR BIRTHDAY
It’s your glorious day!
Shine like the sun ray.
It’s your lustrous birth,
We are celebrating in mirth.
It’s your fruitful season,
Our faces glee; you’re the reason.
It’s your precious time,
Once again in your prime
It’s your victorious moment
Your hour of fulfillment
With sweet melodies, we will arise
Singing songs; no more cries
We will radiate joy and charisma
Because today you’re a year older
It’s your special day!
Rejoice! Happy birthday…
IS DEATH AN IGBO MAN?
Quietus: ‘Nna Grave, this is Quietus
from Vaults and Sons International.
My containers don arrive?’
Grave: ‘Yes Oga Quietus. From:
but some of the goods (carrion)
and left for Vultures.’
Quietus: ‘Ok. I get business for Kangan(1960).
Oga at the top
has finally heard
His people’s cry
by reason of their taskmasters.’
Grave: ‘Goodluck Sah!’
©Angel Simon 2013
Amidst global political upheaval and terrorist pandemonium
which has increased mortality rate incessantly, this poem
(written in a dialogic format) is a conversation between two
business partners- Oga Quietus(Death) and Grave who both
trade in Carrion (dead bodies). The ethnical and symbolic
relevance of the Igbo Man for Death is because Death shares
some of the typical Igbo Man's commercial doggedness. Some
of which are industry, enterprise and adventure. Death is
really industrious in his Carrion business as we see his
branches in the above mentioned nations topping its supply
list from Grave. Enjoy!
I'm not a
I'm just another believer.
I believe in the future of my
because we are the solution
Flourishing in righteousness
Walking in holiness
Nourishing in goodness
Connecting to grace yet
Shining amidst darkness
Bearing fruits amidst
Blossoming amidst dryness
Breaking through in the
Triumphant in godliness
Abounding in greatness
Great stories yet untold
Great vessels yet unfold
Too glorious to uphold
Too beautiful to behold
Too fiery to be cold
So vibrant and so bold
We are the Master's mold
To Jesus, we are sold
For great testimonies to be
We are the generation with a
medal of gold
We are the royal priesthood...
Radiating joy: no more
Rich in gold: no more borrow
Filled by God: not hollow
Deep in love: not shallow
Always on top: not below
Shield in amour: no arrow
All round eagles: no sparrow
Astute soldiers: no feeble
Rising from zero to hero
Right path; we will follow
With the scripture as our life
The picture of our future has
We are the generation of God
We are the generation of
We are the bountiful soul
We are the trees planted by
the rivers of water
We are the branches whose
leaves shall not wither
We are the generation that
will greatly prosper...
A generation with God's
Looking unto Jesus: our
Empowered for the Great
We are the world's inspiration
We are a holy nation
We are a chosen generation
We are the Unstoppable
We are a generation heading
to a glorious destination
We are the joy of many
We will arise and shine
In eternity, with Jesus we will
wine and dine...
I'm not a preacher;
I'm just another believer.
It’s a cold evening, hands buried in coat;
My chrysalis lover rends this quote:
“It is a life preserving medicine
to be in love with the right person.”
For the love we both share
Is like Cleopatra in Anthony’s care
She’s my affection at present
But if, inevitably, she is absent,
Will I still relish her scent?
Won’t this strong emotion soon relent?
Will the pleasure of another event
In distant lands demand me to repent?
Will she wait till I pay the bridal fee?
In a decade, won’t she be parental free?
Will she, in love and trust, tarry
till our seed of love becomes a tree?
Songs we’ve sang
Places we hang
Victories we bang
Every day we rang
Won’t this love face its battle?
Don’t we tolerate each other’s flaws?
Doesn’t beauty shrink in Time’s claws?
Won’t these dark glowing skins wrinkle?
No red bond, yet we’re a single;
We hated it whenever we cross
the bounds of moral laws.
Our smooth flesh, did we fondle?
We’ve decided no checking the blouse:
no browsing the body with palm-mouse;
that our senses will not arouse
to defile the Lord’s house.
he knocks at the majestic door
broke her crystal heart
and left her with splinters
she shuts the door for life
no gliding for love
living to mend the pieces