When will he stop
Persecuting that guitar
His voice is hoarse
It hurts her
It digs a hole in her armour
Roughly
And scoops her out
Hoarsely
I wish I could remember him
In my dream tonight
When silence is wall
Enclosing me and she is gone
His voice is gruff
A street musician
Enjoying his moment on stage
Roughly.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
I’m feeling down today
The perfect mood
For poetry
He’s played the music
So long
He’s lost in the music now
That musician on stage
Is an echo of the poetry
Eating me inside.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije
Love is a unique thing
It possesseth that quality
Which for want of comprehension entire
One feels inclined to call magic
It overcomes all obstacles
And, as an obstacle, cannot be overcome
How it does this, no one knows
But the Origin of Love itself
Open yourself to love
That it may full-fill you
The more you love,
The more you live.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
Art in all its forms
Is the thief of time
Stealing from the past
Sharing with the present
And the future
Like Robin Hood
For time is wealthy in memory
And, like Shylock, reluctant to give.
An evening song will reawaken your life’s morning
A painting will view like déjà vu from lives unremembered
And a poem will whisper your life’s story back to you.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
Human characters incarnate
And re-incarnate.
Each stay on another Earth is but
A continuation.
It is limited by time and
Saturated by responsibility.
There is a task…
– this is the objective happening,
always to be borne in mind.
The key to fulfilment is Love,
Always to be borne in Heart.
You running and you running and you running away,
Sang Mr. Bob Marley
But you can’t run away from yourself.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije..
Everywhere I sought it
I sought in every land
To know if Nature’d wrought it
Anywhere beneath her hand
But though I searched with all my might
And though I looked forever
I’ve never seen before my sight
An ugly flower ever.
Sometimes it might seem to be
She‘s hidden and can‘t be seen
Through land or on the sea
As though she never hath been
Yet when ever a Flower blossoms
When a Flower blooms
Pure beauty is all I see in dozens
In all my heart’s rooms.
Did Heaven ever come to earth?
Did Beauty ever give birth?
Womanhood indeed is Heaven’s flower
Heaven’s beauty, Heaven’s grace and Heaven’s power.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
In seeking Contact with people
Seek that within them
Which is the core of their
Human essence.
There is a moment
Like an electric shock,
When humanity meets humanity
Your cores touch
And so do always your chores –
A kickstart into the Quick
Hearts run like rivers
Seeking the sea. Let it be.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
A road of water, slippery
A bridge of knife-edge, treacherous
A fall of repetition, weakening
An opacity of reflection, saddening
A backdoor of wall, illusionary
A tiger of library, jealous
A conscience of intuition, merciless
Hardfall on softpain, intangibles
Awakening twice, once to life and once to self
Accepting the conditions of the journey
Intangibles, contradictions, repetitions, unpredictables
Armed with Intuition and intellect
Go with the flow.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
A monster of a man
World on his shoulders
Yet fragile is his heart
Go easy on him
He will lift world records
With muscle-rippling ease
But a heavy heart, a broken heart
Will weigh him down
His ego is no bigger than yours
And when he cuddles his little baby
His arms are just as gentle
Trembling hands, subtle fingers
He was a weightlifter
Now he’s down, leaden of heart –
Who will be the one to
Stroke his head and gently lift him up?
He is light as a feather if you ease his pain
Easy like a Sunday morning
Will melt in your hands like butter
Fly with you to the midnight moon, effortlessly.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
There is a poet
He lives in me
I am his host and his prisoner –
He is not married to my wife
He is not related to my family members
He does not come from my country
He does not work for my employer
He is a recluse
A hermit
Who lurks sometimes seen sometimes unseen
In the waters within my heart
I heard his name
They called him Spirit.
He looks at me
With his burning eyes
Only when he has something to say
Then, calling my name, he commands:
“Pen, write…”
And I write.
And that’s all I know about him.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
Che Chidi Chukwumerije 