The children come out to play
And all is happy and gay
In the month of May.
The farmers make their hay
In the shinning sun’s ray.
Hand in hand as they go their way
Young lovers whisper what they have to say
On their way to hear the new priest pray.
And following the song of the stock-bird jay
Gentle old couples of yesterday
Quietly remember their youth today.
The essentials will stay
When all else goes away.
This is the song in the heart of May.
– che chidi chukwumerije.
Every new day is the future
you’ve been waiting for.
So, all those things you’ve made a vow
to do in the future,
do them now.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
I saw three things up in the sky
Two birds and the moon
The birds flew away
While the moon remained
For a few hours,
And then was also gone…
Will you make me a promise, love
Never to be gone?
But like the sky be always there
Even when all else is gone.
– che chidi chukwumerije.
The earth is not my home
Although she ever seems
To weave fine birds that her heights roam
Like I do in my dreams
The earth is not my home
Although she always tries
To spread bright hues across her dome
Like in my home’s blue skies
The earth is not my home.
However hard she plot
To dull my homesickness with foam
She in the end cannot
The earth is not my home
And yet I wander here
And know that when my end is come,
Strange, still I’ll shed a tear.
– che chidi chukwumerije.
The city is overcast with the blue mist of dawn
Swiftly fading
The street lamps of night
Hurriedly dwindling
Yesterday’s man
Softly gazing
A tiger’s cub at the setting moon.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije
Her glance was taffeta
Smoothed down my trembling hands
Smoothed down my trembling hands
Oh morning glory
Oh these tremors have passed and
I’m asleep again on a Saturday morning
In the birth cradle of April.
Fresh rain, burgundy tears sprinkle sun, sprinkle dawn
Rainbows, silver and gold fingers
Then palmgreen sprouting hope hope
Then palmgreen sprouting hope.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
The quiet is defeaning
It bursts your eardrums
Eery and foreboding
Who will make the first move?
Who will change sides?
What is really happening?
History, like a confused child
Keeps coming back home
Looking for its parents
History, like a boomerang
Circles and circles the raised hand
Waiting for peace and rest.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
The end must be strong
Or it will not be satisfied with itself
Shall return again
And again
Demanding to be ended…
The end that drags out must be allowed to drag out
That way we shall never forget
It is imprinted, chiselled, branded prime-deeply
Into heart and mind
Unforgettable, memorable, forever recognisable
Never to be dared again.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
Meetings such as these
Can take place anywhere
On streets or in the house of dreams
Or upon open pages
That, beckoning, beckon the words
Out of another heart
And if you want to write a poem
The poem will come to you.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
When you see the future
It becomes the past
And the future becomes again
Unknown to you
To spend your life exploring your future
Is to spend your time scrutinizing your past
It is to miss all the joy and pain
The moment holds for you.
There is only one future
The result of what you do today
There is only one past
Tomorrow it will be today.
Love me today. Make a new tomorrow
Hope is my crystal ball
I see your heart aching for laughter
And laughter after laughter.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
Che Chidi Chukwumerije 