English

UNQUIET STORM

~ Che ~ 1 Comment

Often, upon many an unquiet storm
Seeking calm exits through rough unfriendly seas
I have longed for death, and then
Quickly corrected myself, for even then,
Deep within, I sensed
That death would be no end.

And I have given kindness, even though
I knew that kindness would be a signal
To those who sail the dark waters
To come in and take advantage of me.
And I have kept many a dark secret silently inside
Just to protect some people, that they be not exposed.

And I have kept my peace
So that others may have their piece
And when they did not turn around
To say thank you, I have continued
To be that way still
For I know no other way to be.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.

HIGH PRICE

~ Che ~ 2 Comments

Is the price
Of life
Too high?
Experiences that break you
And rob you of the desire
To carry on living.

Is the price
Of knowledge
Too high?
Experiences that teach you things
Which in the end you wish
You never came to know.

If the price
Is this high
Then the prize
Had better be worth it
What ever it may be.

Some say it’s eternal life
Some say it’s finding yourself
But what do they know?
All these wiseacres
Just as lost as you are.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.

CAPTIVATION

~ Che ~ 3 Comments

I used to call you petal
Each time I pulled your lobes
And read your thoughts
Discreetly from far away in my personality
The way the farmer reads the clouds
Early in the morning

And thus you told me, without words
When to sow and when to reap
When to prune and when to weed
And when to wait with the patience
Of a farmer waiting for the harvest
Of his labour of love…

Those were the months you thought I was cruel
For the mystery of mirrors is this
The mirror cannot show you what’s
At the back of your mind. Only your lover can
When he breaks your heart
In order to get into it and conquer it

And thus did I imprison myself
For the conundrum of conquests is this
The king is the captive of his own kingdom
And when you let me break your heart
Little did I realise that you did it
Just to make sure you got me in

I came in for the kill
And never made it out again.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.

LOVE NOTE

~ Che ~ 4 Comments

You are not yonder desert
That cried a wailing note
In the history books of strangers

Oh no! Nor a lost ocean
Shedding tears on every shore
Its aching fingers can reach, oh no!

I say what you hear, yes
Believe what you hear me say to you
You are not lost in translation

Did your lips taste the flesh of my teeth
Or your tongue flower with grace?
I see your ears smiling

Now, lie still and let the seeds of prophecy
Germinate and take root, roots
That grip your earth, yearning with fruit

I did it twice for a reason
The first time to make you feel at home
The second time to set you free again.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.

TWICE IS NOT ENOUGH – pt. 4

~ Che ~ 7 Comments

But it was the third one that she particularly liked, and she read it a second time: The Touch

Something different, something true,
Otherly, something new
Very small, something extra large,
Quietly in charge
Inside you
It is what you really are in your soul
You
Your start and your goal
Path, quest, your role
And it is, simply, you.

Someone touched her on her shoulder as she was thoughtfully reading that poem a third time. She turned around to see a young, very dark complexioned woman of about her own age peering questioningly into her face.

“Yes?” she asked, somewhat irritated.

“Sorry, I thought you were someone else. I’m sorry.”

Ada relaxed and smiled at her, then turned back to the poems. But then she was tapped again on the shoulder.

Quizzically she turned her head round again, a slightly confused, even more irritated look on her face.

“Yes??”

The young woman hesitated again, then said:

“You look too much like someone I know –”

“I don’t know you –”

“Yes, no, yes I know. Actually, to be frank, this person is a man.”

“A man?”

“Yes.”

“As you can see, I am a woman!”

“Please, don’t be offended … but … is your name Ada?”

Ada’s eyes focused sharply on the stranger. Her diction was clear and proper, she looked refined and was somewhat pretty, if not beautiful, with a small but african nose, a broad face and large, perceptive eyes. Her skin had that intense darkness that Blacks like to call ‘black beauty’.

“I beg your pardon – How did? -”

“See, I have a friend called Tony whom you resemble to a high degree and he once told me that he has a twin sister called Ada. So I was just wondering… if…”

Ada softened; and realised that everybody around them was paying close attention to their conversation; thus, simultaneously, she became self-conscious and shy. – of course!, Tony! Where was her mind! – such thoughts too raced immediately through her mind., reflected in her eyes, those treacherous windows of hers.

“You know Tony?” she asked in a lowered, nicer voice.

The young woman’s face suddenly lit up and she looked almost like a child. Radiant, naïve, open. Pure.

“Yes!” She struggled to keep her voice down. “My name is Ngozi. I knew him, er, in the university.”

“I see,” said Ada, feeling abruptly very uncomfortable. “Well, nice meeting you, Ngozi.” She turned.

Ngozi, confused, raised her hand to tap Ada’s shoulder a third time, hesitated, and then dropped it once more. Now she became aware also, for the first time, of the attention being paid her. She swept her eyes around and faces turned quickly away, conversations were struck up here and there, while a few understanding eyes surreptitiously melted friendly glances her way, then were gone too, and she was alone again…

Ada, in the seat in front, bent her head meanwhile into the sheets of paper in her hand, on the shopping bag on her lap, and, over and under, through and with the shudderings and other misadventures of the Molue, resolutely went into the assimilating of the fourth of the six poems – earthy moments…

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.

Part 3
Part 2
Part 1

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SELF-BELIEF

~ Che ~ 4 Comments

“Keep chipping away at that block
Keep clipping away at that rock
Keep knocking on and breaking that stone
Keep striking at and cracking that bone
It is their faith, their pride, their hope and strength
It is the very foundation of their self-confidence
So just keep hammering steadily away at it until
They lose every belief in themselves and their will.”

Now if you’re reading this and know what I mean,
Stand up and holler at your foes seen and unseen:
“I can’t be beaten! I can’t be stopped! Because I’ve seen through you
And I’ve seen through me, and I’m the stronger of the two!

Break me down and I’ll come back twice as strong
You don’t know my foundation, so you can’t kill my song.”

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.

UPON MY WORD

~ Che ~ 2 Comments

The pen is mightier
Than the sword
If only writers knew
The meaning of this word
Going forward, going backward

Those who seek vengeance
Through the use of the pen
Are writing their own sentence
Regret won’t heal the pain

Regret won’t heal the pain
My friend
So tread lightly in the rain
And softly sing

And softly sing
For when the verse is over
You’ll be the one to compose again
A new chorus to start over

And when you live again
Your life will be a book of stories
And everything you wrote
Will line your path with pain
Or shame or gladness or glory.

Some kill themselves by the sword
But most commit suicide by their own word.
Some live by the sword,
SOme die by the word
And vice versa.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.

HIDE AND SEEK

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Prose is a form of hiding
Within a forest of words
Poetry it is that betrays
The wounds behind the words

Prose says a lot of things
In order not to say one thing
Poetry says one little thing
In which is contained everything.

Where does pain come from?
Does it, like the wind
Arise when hot air rises
And the cold creeps in within?

Where does time go
While we’re waiting for it?
Where do you find hope
When you’ve lost it?

There is a flame
It is your spirit, it burns
It touches upon a point
That yearns and yearns and yearns….

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.

PRIVACY

~ Che ~ 3 Comments

The deepest pain I had
The loneliest shame
My most sacred joy, yet I share
My most personal hopes
I not only voice
But unclothe in poetry’s inner light
So you see
More than you wish to see
Because all true art is
A private experience.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.

KNOWING ME

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Someone stood by my side
In that hour when
Self-confidence is asleep
And self-belief has lost its way

In that dark hour when
All you do is question yourself
Because phantoms and demons and ghosts
Are whispering in your head

It is the hour when thieves are about
Stealing your last bit of self-worth
Under the cover of darkness
Thieves are faceless and this they know

And she was my sun when there was no sun
And she was my strength when I fell
And in my hour of deepest doubt
She kept our faith.

But one more thing she did
She took a walk through my dark side
And left signposts along the way
And told me: This is also you.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.