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Best Poems Written by Bamanga Bashir

Below are the all-time best Bamanga Bashir poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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I Love

I love Nigeria but it is a secret.

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Haiku's Temple 235

Rainbow in Wednesday
echoes of nothing audience
society stresses.

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Ode Rich

What if life is a gift of thought?,
here yonder at a celestial splendour,
what if nature is a thing of beauty and zest?,
and what if dream itself is a twain in December?,
dust can be fooled them anon,
for this is a culture that I found funny and lovely,
to hold me as if the world would then be yon.
Earth is gold and gold is earth,
fantasy to fantasy, right there I, is it realm?,
a word one man said that heart can wish,
even fonder than to visit all planets, yonder is a dream,
calculus is my hobby against a loss,
now, what if life is a journey of mission at times,
I did keep my pace leaping up against tis wears.
There is a country and continental defaulters too,
how bitter is pain and how bitter is rot,
if upon twas barbaric, now is thus given to,
and if upon a dream everybody is not an exception to wit,
and traverse freely through the earth east or west,
at what sigh other than zest is fun?,
thus a tale I hope to retire later to rest.

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Ignorance

Who can bear
a trouble of another?
but the ignorant
impose that by leading people to accept their whim and trouble
because that is only what they
can muster to the world
if it is a lie
why, why, why,
why is abortion, stealing and corruption
why, why, why,
why is clash, conflict and war
why, why, why,
why is family problem, cheating and unknown killing
why, why, why,
why is truancy, dropout and illiteracy
why, why, why,
why is selfishness, ego and atheism
if it is a lie
why, why, why,
why is cultism, bribery and tribalism
if it is a lie
why, why, why,
why there is a house
built for prostitution
why, why, why,
why there is a house
built for drinking and gambling
if it is a lie
why, why, why,
why there is a house
built for magic, witchcraft and unknown immolation
if it is a lie
why, why, why,
why there is slavery and colonisation
if it is a lie
why, why, why
why the same trouble marker
will suspect and hang his trouble
to an innocent
I knew something dark
yet it is what is to be
morked through.

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Ode To a Dying Grass

Even upon that I cannot guest,
this world that is free and fair,
the latitude here is 45s, of course the other test,
did the law permit me to bear?,
the strikes of all hear say now,
imagine if I dreamt a nightmare,
that last September a horizon is vow.
Seems now what appears a twist,
how can it be that there is a smoke without fire?,
how can it be that criticism is just first?,
ay!, things of the earth of sere,
ay!,  turn now and then and there and here,
ay! gnome so, ay! acne,  ay! life of wilt,
the sky did contained stars, unwearied there.
Nigerians are happy to once more strive,
yore,now and morrow, of course, did we serve our own?,
did we tell that sunshine is love?,
alas!, when we can no more check,
these, who loss through almost due,
is it ourselves?.

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Ode To Tina

It is a tale of love
concerning an event
of a story once
upon a time beholden
nature as it is
couldn't resist such a mystery
the forests, rivers moon and mountains
were resonating to consternations
of which site once upon found
if it were a golden search
the world would have been reporting
a narration may be concerning her own
ah!  life were seeming to the side
of the air, like a new fangle adventure
was it all a beating of a true love?
nobody would tell
since the earth as it is
couldn't be rounded to such ersatz
nor all trees and their leaves
could in any way be lost to oblivions
no, nor horizon heavy with our
dreams could relinquish so far
to demand of tis a feeling
no bird, no catapillar, no termite
ever has a merit or ectacy and easness
to fancy so
now it is asked "what is the fate of such 
a contemporary?"  the answer is to faint
sooner or later with a tower 
of a next rainbow coloured still love kind.

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Haiku's Temple 40

An echo:-
a pigeon,
checks all round.

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Haiku's Temple 134

Dreams of December,
this tale is twelve years old now.

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Ode On Butter

Love like hope betides,
nature is her ere scene,
what if the world would host, tis,
things flowing monsters, if wise, otherwise,
oh!, I think that the earth,
has blue and green and red...,
a little calendar of this savannah.
 
As the border is not based,
since nothing tends towards.

Alas!, what I can see willingly or unwillingly,
nature is beautiful and horizon rainbow,
were the earth wild there is a prayer of holy,
were this life frenzy and spoiled  still there is throw,
alas!, besides this longing of centuries,
alas!, besides this civilization trails,
alas!, besides this cultivation of memories.

How when a need arises society frowns,
how it will use basic there drowns.

But, the tale is gloom if it is held,
if it is tis thou relied,
what I cannot depend upon is a restraining mood,
one turned wild and one turned fiend,
nature says her love and butterfly her ecstasy,
and nature dreams and dreams,
oh!, nature is but a factory.

And even on it, a child claims poesy,
is not, for a trival reject,
since to shed a light on this contemporary horizon,
since nothing is for nothing or non.

Like here I fancied a ribbon of tide,
I think this part even is around,
is their IDs beheld tie,
then next I bound and found,
ere nature is democratic, better indeed,
since two is many a time paired,
and desire alone is a rare bond.

On an occasion in life,
it matters the experience but none to falter,
because it is to at least bind.

Ah!, if a little wave,
escape tomorrow like charcoal of ruins,
and this difference in life,
the earth on her revolution contends,
thus not that what is not known,
is acted to the favour of greed,
because it was not known at a dawn.

Now like a bee he/she is around within this frail,
what then clarity connects us concerning this trail?,
it actions are just nightmares,
alas!, a worst form of such vile sought reward,
worst is last lost failures.

Now odd is a life depending on   such a mod,
for may be it is ruined,
I cannot hold that I was torn and scared,
somewhere nor hold that I failed or missed,
this same fancy to fun the earth,
later I didn't mis entail,
and now is happy and wish to fold.

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Haiku's Temple 136

Night economy,
sister, come tomorrow.