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.


A dog is barking higher up
On the mountain
A worried sounding woof
Every few seconds
I wonder if someone is missing again

Down in the valley there is a train
That rushes past. It sounds like
A river every few minutes
Carrying someone’s dreams into
Another person’s thoughts

I’m trying not to pay attention to the
Conversation taking place beside me
The emotions are strong
Father and daughter gently tying
Up the memories of years past

Just like I waited six days
To finish this poem
So they also waited all these years
To finally say, at the departure, I love you
Please forgive me.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.


I love the sky in the evenings when my spirit is free of ambitions and pressures, conniving tensions, expectations and all those things that seem important. Money, power, fame, renown, popularity, accolade, comfort, praise and other dungeons of the human spirit. Wars of words and weapons. The desire to be better than my neighbour and be seen as being better. It all means nothing now. In this moment of having nothing, I have everything. The vast evening sky becomes small enough to fit into my quiet soul. Good evening, earth. Heaven calling.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.


Is there still hope for me?
The sun sets sadly as slowly as he can
By the last light of day
Find my way

Did you see the baby that was stolen?
Did you see the boy that was broken?
However hard you look, you will see
No resemblance at all between them and
The man now woken, now walking.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.