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Best Poems Written by Stephen Ibeh

Below are the all-time best Stephen Ibeh poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Stephen Ibeh Poem

The Sheepdog and the Black Bull

I said to the Mountains, tell me the story of the Sheepdog. But would it be Honorable for me to inquire about the Black bull?

The boisterous Animal that took away the Inspiration of the Sheepdog? The story is foretold that the Kettle shall never call the pot; black.

A vision is given by the visionary. He alone knows the riddles behind every detail. But like a butterfly, will he ever fly? Or will he remain stagnant in his own environment?

As the time of the kings, when the morning sun and dew have nourished The plantations. When man stood in the Mirror of greatness.

A time when the strange word "slave Trade" was beneath the earth; came the Imperialist. How then did we came into Such dismay?

Far now, out of our country to serve a Foreigner; a black Bull with crooked Horns. For your destiny is far lost and Your brow will sweat blood.

Thread the corn field and the sugary plant; follow the dreams of the black Bull. Your longing will only be quenched by the bull whip of the black Bull,

Because you dedicated your days to the Idols. Forsaken the One who flew you Out from the House of Bondage, and Placed you in his plantations to grow like the Cedar of Lebanon.

But words will not fail me, if I Mentioned not the sheepdog and the Black Bull. I will not say goodnight until The Drummer sleeps.

A time for mourning, and a time for Oppression, but all is well when the Story is told. I'll not say goodnight until The drummer Sleeps.

Goodnight, the drummer can now sleep, But for how long? When the sheepdog's Lack of conspicuous vision is now his Greatest opposition.

The sign of the time is coming for him to Regain his rightful position. But won't it Be such a hyperbole if I call not such Claim to attention.

Can I tell the story of the greatest Adventure and leave out the black Bull?
As surreal it may sound, with an empty Space of words,mystery and mythology And all?

The real world is that the tribute will go To the black Bull. He has stolen the Remembrance of the sheepdog.
All the meaningful things and conquest.

All left is now a dream, a song.
Like the nostalgia of the Spacemen, who reached the moon but lost their space ship. A lost dream.

Details | Stephen Ibeh Poem

A Love Letter From Nowhere

For Valentina, she was just another person in a nameless town.
In ennui of the busy streets? of the city of San Francisco, in the midst of all the festivities,
She suddenly stopped, forgotten by the world she once knew.
As the rainfalls cascades on her accoutred fur coat, the boudior filled with women was invisible to her.
?Her neck tie is now out of place, no longer in any fashion sense. 
As she parades the narrow foggy alley without regard, the wincing of the bystanders behind her seemed unnoticable. 
Now standing beside the roadside in reminiscent of what her outcome could've been. 
Her disconsolate face says it all, Tapachula, a place she has left her heart. 
The euphony of the Fandango, the ineffable jovial laughter of the ancianas, the merengues dance and the stomp beat; all calling her name. 
But of all things was the church with bells and the Artesian wells?,
The cozy mountains, the halcyon pathways where she strolls in barefoot. But mostly at the bakery shop, is the shy and handsome Alejandro who, with the warmest smile, never forget to hand her a bag of fresh rolls with a note "te amo".

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A Bird With Clipped Wings

Birds don't fly with clipped wings
But here you are; flirtatious beyond boundaries. Now gazing at the limitless sky.
Take courage, you've cried enough. Wipe away the tears. Now is the time to take the reins.
In stale air, in every weakness, in every breathless state; all brought the beauty out of you.

Leave the rubbles behind, freedom awaits you. Howbeit that the effulgent now seeks after you. 
Once absent, now it esteems you. Stretch out those wings, fly my birdie!
Fly above the storm. For nature never meant for you to fly. You overcame all obstacles and laughed at the hailstorm.

The irony was to keep you bound and lifeless; to keep you submerged and forgotten. 
But now you can almost see the horizon.The colorful picturesque landscape; all coming into fruition at last.
My, my, my! What a beauty! So Illuminating. Such a tease! Who would've taught the clipped bird could fly?

See how she sores through the storm.
So love every moment. The sky is calling your name now.

Details | Stephen Ibeh Poem

My Soul

Where's my soul? 
Come, show me myself.
But just as I looked into my own reflection, 
Behold, it was another person staring back at me; my identity is gone. 
Not knowing my own self but in a shadow, in a maze, 
I've drifted to where the wind blew.
Dissembled by the little white lies of the Harbinger, 
Who brought news of a place with deep affection, 
A glorious lagoon; filled with lust and despair.
Pleasures that last only momentarily and then back again in anguish, 
Found in a place of remorse; in a cave of woes.
Fill me with wine and keep my heart filled with the lies of my youth, 
Tickle my ears with soft soapy words,
Words that will nourish my ego and stretch my wings far from reason.
But like a vanished light, my soul has departed from me,
And as I searched for it, I find only a silhouette staring back at me.
Like a fading rainbow, it is no where to be found. 
No where back to myself, but just a shell of a man.
Like a tenant who has long abandoned his house. 
For I have threaded anomalously far away from myself,
And has forgotten who I used to be.

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The Death of An Enemy

Far, is now the man I used to know
Once was a friend,
Once was a great friend;
Now is a fiend.

He was like a wind
By nightfall he came, 
And took my sleep from me.
I was a friend.
He was an enemy.

He was like a fire,
By daybreak he came, 
And scorched my heart.
I was loyal.
He was a traitor.

But I must've forgotten
The man that is a friend,
Who turned to be a foe.

But now as before;
I am unconquerable,
For forgiveness has set me free.

Details | Stephen Ibeh Poem

My Name Is Wisdom

A word to the wise is sufficient.
Leave those earthly treasures, 
Gone to the dogs, and in the 
Pocket of the treacherous.
In a tug-of-war, 
In a vault of deception, 
Is a cake baked for the simpletons. 
Those ones who always makes me laugh.
Two can never play this game.
The wicked merchant, the antagonist has every edge; a noose knot,
Tightened at the gallows
Is where the ultimate price will be.
Does it have any other hope but death? 
Come away, fly with me. 
My name is wisdom.
I am for the ages. 
I have seen such calamity
And have warned the simpletons. 
They rejected me 
but the wise rejoiced.