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Best Poems Written by Christine Chukwueke

Below are the all-time best Christine Chukwueke poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Christine Chukwueke Poem

Drawing With Ink and Brush

DRAWING WITH INK AND BRUSH

By the corner of the room,
there you'd find the comely girl who draws
and paints with just her ink and brush.

She looks and observes carefully,
and then draws not only what the eyes see
but also the souls of men.

Others like her draw and edit,
they touch and alter so their painting
is rid of imperfections.

They know with flattery, falsehood and deceit,
they get what they want.
so they paint what the people want to see.

But the artist who draws and paints
rendering a representation of life the way it is,
receives little or no accolades.

Oftentimes, the artist is perceived as hardy 
and complex but the craft is soft
and adds value to lives.

In that little corner of hers,
she espies the world through a lens
and draws what she sees devoid of taradiddle.

Unafraid she stands,
and calls you what you are 
then proceeds to draw a portrait of you.

It rattles many how naked they stand 
before the painter whose drawings depict
the true image of who they are.

With just her ink and brush,
the comely girl by the corner of the room
draws both the gangbusters and grotesque of the world.

Details | Christine Chukwueke Poem

Colour of Tribalism

I am judged even before
they get to know me by
the tone of my skin,
and tribal name.


even before I speak,
my fate has already
been decided,
my ethnicity announced it.


I am called by what I look like
not what I am,
judged by my tribal name,
judged by my cultural heritage,


judged by my mother's tongue,
I am called by what I look I like,
not what I am.
I have felt the sharp blade.


segregation by tribe,
segregation by  ethnicity,
culture, heritage and language,
I have felt the sharp blade.


mine is not racism, it is tribalism.
and I have felt its sharp blade.

Details | Christine Chukwueke Poem

Playing the Game of Poker

PLAYING THE GAME Of  POKER 

At the table,
the dealer begins the game,
passing out set number of cards,
players ready to exhibit mental acuity.

A full house of masterminds,
getting familiar with the cards,
playing different variations of the game.
everyone with a target.

We fold, check, call or raise,
strategizing on how to topple the other,
straight, stud, draw or community,
mostly, same rule applies.

The game of poker,
quite similar to life.
simple,yet complex!
requires a lot of maths and psychology.

It's a bet, full of trials and errors.
Some rely on their tenacity and courage,
their adroitness and tactics,
for maximum result.

Some compromise it all,
yet, no aroma of fresh fruits.
some run out of chips, even before they get a chance to play.

We all are players,
playing the mean game of poker,
round the clock,
with dexterous manoeuvre.

The difference is,
some have mastered the soft skills,
and have become connoisseurs of the game.
while some are still baking in the oven.

In this game of life,
sometimes we win,
sometimes we lose.
we all bet,we all play.

Details | Christine Chukwueke Poem

Unprecedented Upheaval

Unprecedented upheaval provokes
an extraordinary energetic current,

we're ready to march alongside others
to the high walls of the palace of those 

who now wear the stolen crown,
the mandate of the people.

they call it hope renewed,
but where's the hope in broad day thievery

the doggedness of our professors
who expel students for malpractice

now questionable for their
shenanigans is now on display for all to see

the assurance of hope shattered,
the voice of the people shunned.

we must look like a joke to this bigots,
this looters of our nations treasury,

who watched as the people's mandate
is raped vicariously without empathy

we march in solidarity for the bridegroom 
who has been dehumanized,

and his bride violated before his eyes,
it's a black Wednesday

for the people of my country
as we watch this horrid events unfold.

they call it a game,
and say the winner takes it all

but this is a game too risky
but what do I know,

I am just a poet lending my pen,
to the whims and caprices of my country

this unprecedented upheaval
provokes an emotional rage

but we will march in peace,
our protest is 'good governance' or nothing.

Details | Christine Chukwueke Poem

Muddy Trenches

Out of the mud,
springs of solid souls come forth

smeared by the dirt,
but not stained with the stigma

in the vile sparks of inhumanity,
a wellspring of humanity is birthed

putting smiles on furrowed souls,
fiercely putting out the darkness

I am unabashed about the trenches,
from there staggering ingenuity sprouts!

Details | Christine Chukwueke Poem

No Longer a Satisfying Symphony

No Longer a Satisfying Symphony

When the piper plays the pipe,
Our hearts flutter,
At the sweet soft  melody.

The piper all set up and tuned,
With his little snare drum
Begins to work his magic,

The piper plays,
Electrifying symphony of flavours,
His skills so magical.

The pleasant harmony produced
warms us up,
It reaches the depth of our souls.

The spontaneous rhythm
Spurs us to dance to the beat,
Possessing us profoundly.

But,it is not the piper 
who dictates the tune,
It is he who pays the piper.

And most times,
He who pays the piper
dictates the tune of shame.

And we're all forced to listen
to the unsatisfying symphony of
a skilled and magical piper.

This time,when the piper plays the pipe,
Our hearts no longer flutter
but palpitate in disgust.

He who pays the piper 
Dictates the tune,
That no longer satisfies.

Details | Christine Chukwueke Poem

Toothless Bandits

Play hard, 
the toothless bandits are at it again.

they have no teeth,
yet bite the hardest.

serial larcenists,
squelching through town,

robbing the honey,
subverting the hives.

at gunpoint,
they silence us.

we play hard,
they play even harder.

in the tripod of power,
they're revered highly.

'distinguished'  and 'honourable,' 
titles that enable them.

they excavate,
the remains of our land,

stripping us of all,
leaving us bereft of hope.

this toothless bandits,
in this rocky shores,
have hearts dead to pity.

Details | Christine Chukwueke Poem

Culture Shock

Building a bridge 
between two cultures,
is like swimming against the tide.

the up and down current,
often leads to a knock down.

to bridge the gap between two worlds,
is an encounter not so pleasant.

the culture shock,
quite difficult to encapsulate.

Details | Christine Chukwueke Poem

Somewhere In the Thick Dark Forest

SOMEWHERE IN THE THICK DARK FOREST

Somewhere in the thick dark forest,
There, you'd find captives 
held against their will.

Hands bound, legs chained,
They lay on the hard ground, half unclad.
Dehydrated from thirst and hunger.

Separated from their families,
As many nights and day come and go,
Thought of their imminent freedom very bleak.

The blood thirsty abductors,
Show no mercy nor compassion
As they raise their long hard twisted whips,

And dig into the wounded skin of their slaves,
With each strike, they curse and yell,
Ready to exterminate.

Men,women and children weep uncontrollably,
They have been dealt heavy blows.
Some have fallen, some have been scarred.


Somewhere in the thick dark forest,
Captives still languish 
in the camp of their abductors.

Details | Christine Chukwueke Poem

The Girl Who Sings In the Shower

THE GIRL WHO  SINGS IN  THE SHOWER

The girl who sings in the shower
does so to feel alive
so her vision doesn't get fogged up

in there
she let's her hair loose
and let's the water sprinkle down

with each trickle of water on her skin
her soul gets nudged
and episode of events begin to unfold

the tales all clear
and electric
each hankering for acknowledgment

on good days
she sings and smiles to the memories that  make her heart race 

on bad days
she scours a little harder
leaving her skin feeling flushed.

the walls in the shower
witness her unadulterated emotions
they provide a satisfying symphony of solace

she gathers and rebuilds
apprising herself of the life now
her voice and melody not puny

The girl who sings in the shower
does so to ponder on the projections of life
and to keep her heart throbbing.