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Chukwuma Obiora Poem
When we look at the mouth of a warrior
We think he never sucked his mother’s breast
The birds that rest on the Iroko
Does not know how the Iroko grew
The heart that persevered in pain
Is the heart that will rejoice with gain
Like the Hibernating hedge hog
Metamorphosing to life after winter
Whales and sharks are not found in shallow waters
The man who swims against the turbulent tides
Of deep shark and whale infested murky waters
Will get the whale oil, make a shark’s fin soup
Or wear a shark’s leather jacket
The resilient hand that never says die
Sculpts stumbling blocks into stepping stones
And squeezes water out of rock
Like a gold stone that passed through a furnace
And became the priceless gold ornament
Separating the men from the boys
The pot that wants cooked food
Must be scorched by the furious and ferocious fire
It is when the palms have been soiled by sand
That the mouth will be soiled by oil
The hand that is not soiled by sand
Makes the mouth to be soiled by sand
People like the mouth soiled by oil
Because it can also soil their mouth with oil
The mouth soiled by oil
Has many names, relatives and friends
But the mouth soiled by sand
Has few name, few relatives and few friends.
Copyright © Chukwuma Obiora | Year Posted 2009
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Chukwuma Obiora Poem
The nation is thrown into grief.
Our national flag is flying at half mast.
Everyone is wearing a sack cloth.
The dangling axe fell on us.
And the mighty has fallen.
Our hearts are filled with dread,
And our eyes as heavy as lead.
Nigeria, Africa’s number one soccer nation,
Has been given a run for their money by the Ghanaians.
Culminating our early exit from the African nations cup.
The green and white jersey that we adore,
Have been dragged in the mud.
These are not the Eagles we have been celebrating.
Or are these Eagles suffering from bird flu,
That they cannot glide.
Their spirit was willing but their flesh were weak.
When we were young, we were strong,
Now we’ve grown but we are weak.
The reputation that took us years to build,
Have been destroyed over night.
Because we went to fetch water with a basket.
The baby has been thrown away with the baby water.
The Midas touch we used to have have been used on us,
Because we could not strike while the iron was hot.
The hunter has been hunted.
And we have fallen from frying pan to fire.
Football has kept us together as a nation for many years.
The Ghanaians has put a knife on what kept us together.
And we have fallen apart.
Once beaten, twice shy.
We hide our faces in shame.
No one is to be blamed.
What is sauce for the goose is also sauce for the gander.
Every dog has its own day and it was not our day.
A soldier lives to fight another day.
And never says never because quitters are losers.
The big question is,
Shall our bones rise again?
Or have we withered like the cursed fig tree.
Only the bowel of time will Tell.
Copyright © Chukwuma Obiora | Year Posted 2008
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Chukwuma Obiora Poem
Planet Earth stands still.
Africa reckons as Ghana beckons.
A bloodless war in Africa.
Brothers at home and in Diaspora,
Uniting to defend their fatherland.
On the verge of repeating and re-writing history.
The bell is tolled and the die cast.
Fans roll out drums with funfare.
Rivals green with envy,grudges and jealousy.
Many contract nationalism and patriotism epidemics.
I peep into my crystal ball,
To know whom claims the trophy.
My predictions seem obscure.
Because no one has monopoly of skills,
And no one is completely bereft of wills.
All galaxies parade their dazzling stars.
But not all that glitters are gold.
Soccer beauty is skin deep.
Because the hood does not make the monk.
The mighty may fall due to over confidence.
And the under dogs may rise due to over efforts.
Only time will crack this nutshell.
To unveil the folks with the greatest strokes.
Winners will smile home in victory.
And loosers likewise in jittery.
Copyright © Chukwuma Obiora | Year Posted 2008
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