Heute bist Du früh gekommen,
schnell genommen hast mich,
benommen ließt mich nach Worten greifend,
das in mir entfachte Gedicht nicht begreifend.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije
Im Jahrzehnt der Deutschen Dichtung
inspiration
HÖCHSTSPANNUNGSLEITER
Heute bist Du meine Muse
Die Ungereimtheiten in Dir
Die Uneinigkeit zwischen Deinem Kopf
und Deinem Herzen ist die schönste Spannung
die ich je gespürt habe –
sie ist eine Hochspannungsleiter,
durchströmt mich mit einem bebenden Warten
auf Entladung –
Danke für die Einladung.
Ladestation: Mensch. Sehnender Mensch.
Zu wissen, ich labe mich an Deiner Wunde
und das Laben reinigt die Wunde –
Herz und Kopf versöhnen sich…
Die Spannung läßt nach…
Die Wunde schließt sich.
Eine Weile muss nun ich entbehren, leiden –
Mein Durst wird wieder reif, dürstet…
Und wenn ich Dich dürstenden Auges anschaue
werden Dir Kopf und Herz wieder uneinig,
die spendende Spannung ist wieder da.
Hallo, Muse.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije
Im Jahrzehnt der Deutschen Dichtung
WAS SIE MIR ERZÄHLEN
Wasser
Glocken
Stille
Wachstum
Weiblichkeit
Licht
Schwert
Ich könnte weiter meine Inspirationen aufzählen –
Aber nein, denn wichtiger ist, was sie mir erzählen:
Mensch, Du bist Deines Schicksals Verfasser
Gib Dir Mühe, um es nicht zu verbocken
Verfolge dem Guten mit fließend eisernem Wille
Liebe – Liebe ist Reichtum
Weiblichkeit ehren ist Männlichkeit
Und wenn Dein Herz bricht
findest Du drin den Schatz mit dem höchsten Wert.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije
Im Jahrzehnt der Deutschen Dichtung
NACHT NUR
Der Abend umarmt mich
Mit tausend Gedanken
Für die ich mich bedanke ohne Vorbehalt
Die Gestalt war nur ein Vogelgedicht
Eine kurze Nachricht der jungen Nacht
Einsicht heißt das Gedicht –
Ich sage Gute Nacht, gute Nacht…
Du hast meinen Tag
Schön gemacht –
– che chidi chukwumerije.
THE MAGIC WAND
Once upon a time
A magician turned
Himself into a magic wand
And turned his magic wand
Into himself.
There they go
The magician and his wand.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
INVISIBLE WINGS
Fluttering somewhere, unseen
Fluttering softly, fluttering quick,
Fluttering, fluttering, an invisible being
Floats over quietly with a candlestick
And a flaming crown around a little wick,
Slightly seen, partly unseen…
They float, candle, being, and candleflame
Over the heads of a thousand men and more…
And alight gently upon a budding dame
Who, touched by an angel, bears a look never seen before
And poets and musicians and men
Draw from her look inspiration again
And again.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije
TENDER SPOTS
There is in me a very soft spot for naked tables and chairs, pens and empty sheets of paper, and a feeling that if I do not write the poem write now, it will never come again. It is a very special soft spot and very dear to me, sees me through lonely nights and empty restless days and times of unfocused focus and focused unfocus and is much better than many other a pleasure.
The heart is inside, the voice outside, and a strong voice without a heart is as baseless as the pointlessness of a voiceless heart, burning and knowing and mute. I have a very soft spot in me for that quick tender urge that would have me run again, a pen upon waiting sheets, a snow-lion stalking buried treasures, a singer learning and singing new songs, simultaneously.
Water is the king and when your heart runs like water, poetry becomes an uncheckable force – everywhere you hear it… everywhere you hear it. It follows you, it enters you, it captures you until you have mastered yourself in it, then it sets you free to roam again. Yes, this is my jungle.
I have in me a so soft spot for that glowing star, yonder flame that has decided to call me Home. Yes, Song, let it ring, and with my life I will follow, poet and musician and man. There was a beginning but, I vow, there shall be no end to eternal tenderness inside you and me.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
ONLY US
It is not a joke;
But everyone is laughing
As though it were…
Early in the morning
I can hear voices whispering
Before dawn…
But when I peered out through the window
I saw nothing
Yet heard something
Which sounded like whispering voices
Talking to me
Telling me what to write
And I write without complaint
Even though the pain is sometimes astronomical –
Yet I write.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
EMPTY AGAIN
In heaven
I saw birds
Even blackbirds
So I wrote
This poem
Which is just words
And when I was done
And looked up
It was an empty sky.
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
BLOW ON
There is something
I want to write
– this has happened to me before –
That is:
It is the poet who wants to write it
While I, the pen,
Am yet in the dark
I only feel the heat of inspiration
The dark ink, flowing
The red blood, going
Somewhere
The wind, blowing…
– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.
Che Chidi Chukwumerije 