MARCH’S MATCH FOR JONATHAN THE BUHARIST

MARCH’S MATCH FOR JONATHAN THE BUHARIST

March’s Match for Jonathan the Buharist

 

At the end of the scheming month

Seal your quick speaking mouth

Call me no Seer or Prophet

For I am but an ensnared Poet

 

Though they sign an accord

I do not see peace as a chord

Tying us to the feat of the future

But a broken feet to be sutured

 

Call me the minstrel of Doom

I can only laugh at your gloom

For the bride shall be without a groom

Like the scattered sons of a broom

 

It would not be free and fair

For this to be free of fear

For man shall match man

And month shall match March

 

Jonathan the Buharist

Jonathan the Buharist

Expectations shall be dashed

Just as Hopes shall be ashed

Like the remnant of a cremated corpse

The wind shall blow ashes from its cups

 

You hate the sound of Jonathan

You say he is a nonchalant charlatan

And you love the wind of Change

You say it blows away your rage

Harvest your fears

And prepare your tears

For your heart shall be pierced

As change-victory would be scarce

 

What nonsense have I said?

Oh, what sense have I made?

Saying the Charlatan may laugh last?

Or Change would grow weary?

No, Not at all!

 

Just like John the Baptist

We have our Jonathan the Buharist

 

POSTSCRIPT: A word for the profound, as the foolish things of these present times confounds the wise.

 

 Tijani Oluwamayowa.

 

About the Author of March’s Match for Jonathan the Buharist

Tijani is a poet, witty speaker, and award-winning Journalist. He was awarded most outstanding Pressman at University of Ibadan for 2013 and 2014.

As a public speaker, Tijani became arguably the finest speaker on any Nigerian campus, following his win at the Nigerian Championship of Public Speaking (Abuja 2013).

follow @Oluwamayowa_TJ

 

 

 

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TO MY KING

TO MY KING

TO MY KING

 

Now I can tell where you have been for days

When I was striving to survive and stand

And help my children in the barren land

A forsaken home for unwanted preys

 

I can tell where you have been my dear head

When burning rivers were taking over

And drowning the last hopes of our Mother

Planning to make each one a walking dead

 

Oh you blind father Nature sent me to

Cold heart and dirty hands covered with chains

Not pure blood but stained instead from your veins

Tainting horizons to make red their blue

 

To my King

To my King

You have been growing bigger on your throne

Feeding your shrines with milk honey and wine

Comforting your position with their shine

Just to be a king where there is no crown

 

You have there bloodsucking the Lady

Leading her offspring left while you went right

You took all candles and set them look for light

Poor father of mine, greedy like crazy

 

Now I can also tell where you will be

Exactly where you have chosen to be

In a place of wounds and insanity

The only place for you, hell’s custody

 

Not that you will be wiped away by death

You shall not enjoy that sweet privilege

You shall not even taste the sharpen edge

Of the knife you used to point at my breath

 

You will walk freely along the garden

Where happy people dance and celebrate

Where there are no wings that you can frustrate

Where you are an ordinary pattern.

 

About the Author

My name is Théodore René Ndebi, born in Cameroon. I graduated in Banking Management. But what really makes me proud and happy is WRITING !!!!! I started writing around 1990. I write the most I can.

I mostly write for children’s future. As a child, I had always dreamt of a world where poor children and orphans could be happy as well. I have many unpublished collections in French: Chaque Jour Un Poème, Rêve D’un Soir, La Missive Du Petit Prince, Suis-Je Assez Bien Pour Toi… I’m also author of unpublished novels in French (Cierge Noir, Plus Violent Que L’amour, Les Fruits De La Tempête…). My first published novel; THE LAST GHOST/Son Of Struggle got published in 2013 by AuthorhouseUK; it appears in the LOS Angeles Times Festival Of Books Catalogue 2014 Page 8. Available online @ Amazon, Kindle, AuthorhouseUK, Barnes & Noble, Indie. I wrote numerous award winning texts. I am a Book Reviewer and Translator. I am a member of OneAfricanChild since 2013 and Co-Founder of Le Salon Du Livre Yaounde-Cameroon. You can check my works on: authorrayndebi.wordpress.com.Ray Ndebi on Facebook, @RTNdebi on Twitter, Facebook Page My Soul & Mon Ame.

 

 

WHAT’S LEFT

WHAT’S LEFT

WHAT’S LEFT?

What’s left but exhausted minds
That parade in shirts and gowns
Shrugging shoulders that tongues have laid on
Like gods that have lost their omniscience
To futile voyages

Over the tombs of the living
They drop wreathes
Sending our spirits on exile
What’s left?
But dumb strangers with tongues pierced
By fingers on throne’s apparel

These songs are of arsenal voices
Hibernating the sages
With ornamental cuffs and artillery
To rest their wizened grey hairs on mute

What's Left

What’s Left

What’s left but mere carcasses
Painting colours in space
Red, the choking air
In grievance, the crump of air we pursue
Like chippings of gravel
We chew the intoxicated air
And still groan for more

The soil has lost its virginity
To the heels of scavenging feet
Fire, the rage in her eyes
What’s left of me?
But the melancholy of tomorrow

Awa Chigozie

 

About the Author of What’s Left

Awa Chigozie is a Nigerian. A student and resident of Abia State in Nigeria. He is a prolific writer whose keen interest is in poetry and fictional works. He has poems which have been published in anthologies and other media. He describes his works as a mirror to man’s act. Presently working towards releasing his first poetry collection.

 

 

 

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