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Samuel Oleka Poem
The bombs explode and the missiles fly past.
Fiery clouds of smoke thicken all around.
Yet with these moments, though they were my last,
I would contemplate something so profound.
With my best friend I set out together
On the belligerent pursuit of peace.
For homeland. For loved ones. For the better.
We dreamed of coming back home in a piece.
Then boom! On the ground the shot leaves my friend.
Faintly, with his last breath, "Goodbye" he said.
Sweat. Blood. Grief. This is how it's gonna end?
Once again, for war, a dear price is paid.
Warriors are supposed to be tough, I know.
But, for my friend, I'll shed a tear or two.
I wrote this poem as a response to the invitation, from a friend of mine, to make something out of a picture of a soldier clutching his dead comrade and weeping bitterly.
Copyright © Samuel Oleka | Year Posted 2021
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Samuel Oleka Poem
Lessen your crimes now and give ear to me
Perhaps I can still make you understand
How a force for bad you've chosen to be
To many in the firm grip of your hand.
You cajole the one, abash the other;
Promise acceptance, threaten rejection.
All in an unfair attempt to smother
The voice of good, and enthrone perversion.
Do I wish you were not in existence?
Would I really snuff the life out of you?
Far from it, I recognize the potence
In you to cheer and uphold what is due.
Decide, then, to turn a new leaf today,
And I may have good about you to say.
Copyright © Samuel Oleka | Year Posted 2021
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Samuel Oleka Poem
There she is, playing with her toys and dolls.
An air of peace surrounds her. Aww, isn't she
Lovely? Smilingly, she turns and calls
Out to you. Innocence is all you see.
There he is, busy hitting on something,
Singing a funny yet familiar song.
Oblivious of cares, he leaves you doting.
You feel something so tender yet so strong.
Who are they? Where do they fit in your plans?
What are the things that you can do to them?
They are children. They are fully humans.
Love them. Don't molest them. No, don't hurt them.
Whereas these children make up the future,
We would do well, in love, them to nurture.
Copyright © Samuel Oleka | Year Posted 2021
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Samuel Oleka Poem
Once again that happy day comes along
Which bids me count the blessings God's given.
My heart will find expression in a song,
And my praises will rise towards heaven.
But can I number all His benefits?
And His providence, can I fathom it?
Not if I cannot count the infinite,
For with much favours He fills each minute.
A birthday is a day to be happy,
But another milestone it also marks
On this my short, weary, homeward journey.
“How have I lived?” Well would I pause to ask.
Through this and every day, more may I be
Determined to live for Him who made me.
Copyright © Samuel Oleka | Year Posted 2021
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Samuel Oleka Poem
If the passage of time asks me one thing,
It is that I often pause to ponder
Its import, the One Who is its Wellspring,
And my journey from here homeward yonder.
From nothingness God into existence
Brought me; and when I was by rebellion
Imperiled, His wondrous benevolence
Bought me in Christ His gracious salvation.
The Lord has preserved my soul these few years.
What better choice for me than to trust Him?
He has pledged to carry all of my cares;
Of praise to Him my heart will sing a hymn.
And if I follow Him Who bid me come,
By and by He will surely lead me home.
Copyright © Samuel Oleka | Year Posted 2021
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Samuel Oleka Poem
If there is to be consistence
In all my words and all my deeds,
Then I've to do that maintenance
Which my mind very often needs.
So here's to that friend with whom I'm
Not ashamed to be fallible,
To unravel, to be human.
With you this ride's enjoyable.
Copyright © Samuel Oleka | Year Posted 2021
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Samuel Oleka Poem
Shall I really be called to bear
The cross of toil and labour?
To spread the gospel far and near?
To proclaim it with fervour?
Then I will bear the cross gladly,
Since Jesus would do the same for me.
Shall I really be called to drink
The cup of persecution?
To love God, though earthly gain shrinks?
To serve in worse conditions?
Then I will drink the cup gladly,
Since Jesus would do the same for me.
Shall I really be called to sleep
The drearisome sleep of death?
Even till grave the faith to keep?
To lie in sheol unclothed?
Then I would go to sleep calmly,
Since Jesus would come to raise me.
Copyright © Samuel Oleka | Year Posted 2021
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Samuel Oleka Poem
Locked down tight; can't go out.
Lost in thoughts; filled with doubt.
“Things seem to be going south.
What is this all about?”
I cannot really tell.
But I know Someone well
Who the turmoil can quell,
And cause a happy sequel.
PS: I wrote this poem circa late April-early May 2020, while thinking on the monumental adjustments which humans had to make to their lives, because of Covid-19.
Copyright © Samuel Oleka | Year Posted 2021
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