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Anthony Obaro Poem
A basket submerged in
river
is delighted to see itself
brimful of water.
But this is
a fleeting fortune.
It entered the river empty,
and sure to come out
empty.
Copyright © Anthony Obaro | Year Posted 2013
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Anthony Obaro Poem
This is Ogori-Magongo,
a land of many hills
towering high
above houses and
farmlands
scattered about
like cowries cast
on a diviner's tray.
Ogori-Magongo,the land
where gunshots herald
moments of merriment
with well-wishers
dinning till tummies
threaten to burst,
and wining
till senses go to sleep.
Ogori-Magongo,
a stream from where
emerge
many intellectual hippos
whose steps quake the
earth.
N.B. Ogori-Magongo is a
community in Kogi state of
Nigeria.
Copyright © Anthony Obaro | Year Posted 2013
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Anthony Obaro Poem
The crowns of glory
all not found holiness-weary -
all who refuse to be fools
reduced to devil's tools-
shall surely wear,
though after many a tear,
at the trumpet's blast
when the world breathes its last.
It's true that souls sin-ruptured
shall not with Christ be raptured
for they are brides not chaste,
having yielded to worldly taste.
So,brethren,rid selves of all stains
to reap all eternal gains.
Copyright © Anthony Obaro | Year Posted 2013
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Anthony Obaro Poem
Like Egypt without Nile,
like Holland without dyke,
like army without ammo,
like birds without wings,
is our world bereft of
brotherly love.
Copyright © Anthony Obaro | Year Posted 2013
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Anthony Obaro Poem
You crave success
in your hunting trip.
That's why
you stuff your quiver
with too many arrows,
spoiling its handle
that hangs on your
shoulder.
You are thirsty,
your mouth and throat
dry as a land
not rain-bathed for
seasons.
That's why
you desire to drink-dry
as many rivers.
Where are your ears?
Let them sip
from the well of wisdom
of our elders
who say:
"moderation arms
better than a thousand
charms
but lack of it surely harms."
Copyright © Anthony Obaro | Year Posted 2013
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Anthony Obaro Poem
We never saw it coming
but it came
like the sound of the trumpet
heralding the doomsday-
that day, dark as the night
bereft of moon and stars,
that announced your departure.
You were a priest
that santa-claused without ceasing,
brightening every cloudy sky
you met with the sun.
Though separated are we
by the great river
you've crossed ahead of us,
we hope to meet you someday,
not on our side side of the river
in the world of wicked ones
radiating rotten rays
where Ahab robs Naboth
of his vineyard;
but on your side of the river
in the world of saints
united as a congregation
without a segregation,
filled with faces smiling,
free of faces frowning.
N.B. this poem is a tribute to late Father Barnabas Salawu
known to have devoted his life to caring for the poor. His last priestly
assignment was at Magongo,Kogi state, Nigeria before his death in
2011. R.I.P.
Copyright © Anthony Obaro | Year Posted 2013
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Anthony Obaro Poem
There is a wind,
an ageless wind,
blowing with a malevolent motive,
sweeping susceptible souls-
a multitude of them-
like pieces of paper
to where they abhor to be.
I know I possess no power
on my own
to withstand this wind,
but I beseech thee,
oh Lord,
grant me grace
not to waver,
but to stand solidly
till the trumpet sounds
or till my earthly journey ends.
Copyright © Anthony Obaro | Year Posted 2013
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Anthony Obaro Poem
The highest human honour
to the dead
is to put them away
in glorified dustbins
when their presence
makes no more sense
to the living.
When Death strikes,
let no one
make a fortune
of the victim's misfortune.
Death you heard
struck somewhere
lays an ambush
for all of us.
Sometime,somehow
something is sure
to walk someone
into his ambush.
Sometime,somehow.......
Copyright © Anthony Obaro | Year Posted 2013
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Anthony Obaro Poem
Be ye useful
while still youthful.
It's the way to fulfill
your destiny till
death does call
to end your all.
Copyright © Anthony Obaro | Year Posted 2013
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Anthony Obaro Poem
.
They are the candles
whose flames light
as many lightless candles
to brighten the world.
Category: serious
Copyright © Anthony Obaro | Year Posted 2013
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