Solitude is addictive
Still you must make accommodation
You must break these walls of loneliness
Let at least few come in
Yes chaos will creep in
But peoples spirit
Will light your heart
With _FIRE_
Ugwu David C.
©2023
Tag: Loneliness
Out-Heal the Loss
Hello, My name is Niel and these are the ChristaPoet Freestyle Sessions. This year, ChristaPoet wants to give you a special perspective to our freestyles. At first, some of these poems were published as stand-alone pieces. But in actuality, each poem is an untitled part of a freestyle session. Each freestyle session is given a topic for the poems to address.
Today, we see the last of the February 25th 2022 poems. Topic was “Regeneration”.
Yesterday, we went through the ladies who all posted inside the 11th hour. So today we begin at 12:10 PM, with the CaP goddess, Chika St. Davnique:
I feel pain every time I think of my sister.
And I’m not thinking about myself when I think of her.
I’m thinking of all the ways in which she was alive.
I’m reliving the moments in which her smile lived.
And the pain I feel, it’s not selfish.
So no.
Adjust your lenses
And somewhere around this period, she got into a sensitive discussion with MeerahZoe. Now because some parts of the discussion was in voicenotes, I will give you a summary of the most important point made during the argument. The rest is honey and milk for CaP members. To join up, GoTo the “Join Us” tab
They were talking about different people’s reactions to loss. Chika said: As Christian writers, w hen we write, we owe it to the world and our audience to say what is true, and not just what we feel at the moment. Infact, whenever we want to be so subjective, we should state that this is us and just our perspective. Making absolute statements based on subjectivity has to stop.
At 12:36 PM, Chika St. Davnique made some some more poetry:
‘Please hold on while your transaction is processing…’
I’m staring lost in thought.
My mind, a multiverse of directions my thoughts wish to take.
Another line from a poem my father taught me floats into my brain…
‘We have come to the crossroad, and I either leave or come with you’
So I go with it.
The thought that we are always in the midst of a transaction. Always coming and going from an exchange. Always living or dying, giving or leaving.
The machine is still grinding, my body is still standing.
I wonder, does the man behind me know I’m lost.
Or is he lost in the endless start of things?
Is he coming and going from worries?
Is he in a loop of misdirection? And does he know the dimensions of life’s transactions?
Does he know what matters? Is he exchanging his time here for true treasures?
Or has he bought into the lie that he owns real estate in Time’s garden park?
‘Thank you for banking with us’
My fingers move of their accord. Cash in hand, I hold the physical equivalent of my time. I stroll on still lost… in thought trains.
Like, are we living or dying slowly?
And what is breathing if life is lived in beautiful moments?
Why does it come in cycles of the same patterns?
Are we living lives once lived?
…car honk and I remember to find myself.
Here.
On the road home.
Kinda like life, right?
And then, at 12:38 PM, catch a glimpse of what MeerahZoe was saying during the conversation:
This in itself is not a bad thing.
I’m a mental health advocate, and I know that self care is not selfish.
I also understand the human impulse to defend what we feel or are experiencing.
I was actually talking about the often masochistic need we have to hold on to pain even when we know it is crippling.
I have to say, I understood both their stances…but I just wrote on at 1:53 PM, probably with the mind to de-escalate the matter:
Black gems;
– made of what I used to call trash
– make me valuate my answers
– prayers sneaking outta coffins
– studded both my belt and cufflinks
What else?
I didn’t heal when you hugged me
I felt hate from my sulking
But I knew that was not important
I’m glad you haven’t kicked the bucket
Glad you haven’t kicked the bucket
Big wolves leaving bite marks
Farm hands turning lone sharks
My heart used to have cracks
Now it’s powdered like its custard
So I give it up to Father
Me I know he’ll take me farther
Speaking healing past the storm’s parts
Wash my eyes with water God spat
After a bit of silence, probably because I write mouth-shutting stuff, at 3:45 PM, Hanna Azubuike:
Please stop burning my eyes with how one should mourn a loss. You have healed, you have forgotten the pain you went through. Help with the Word if you must say something. Let her fully heal before you share how you mourned yours. You will never understand the closeness either. Let the eyes be dried before you point the picture and the different colors.
And at 5:49 PM, Imani Dokubo finesse with a few words from her beautiful:
Things die quickly when plucked from their source.
Root, the plants source.
God, the believers source.
Regeneration never happens without a source.
At 6:44 PM, the final freestyle of the day was delivered by Cap founder, Ezeonyeka Godswill, an enigmatic leader whose words always clear the air:
Writing is vulnerable. To war with the worlds in your mind so that you can birth words is sacrifice. We bear in our hands bleeding mysteries as we concise conscious constellations into careful captions. We know not all is said but what must have been said. The world wonders at writers not because it cannot produce as they do but because writers learn through the pain of introspection how to transport seedlings of thought across mind so that on the winds of communication the death of a world can find regeneration through the planting of these words.
Enough said; REGENARATE NOW, In the name of Jesus!!
Authors:
Chika St. Davnique
MeerahZoe
The Niel Quchi
Hanna Azubuike
Imani Dokubo
Ezeonyeka Godswill
You don’t have to be lonely
Hello, My name is Niel and these are the ChristaPoet Freestyle Sessions. This year, ChristaPoet wants to give you a special perspective to our freestyles. At first, some of these poems were published as stand-alone pieces. But in actuality, each poem is an untitled part of a freestyle session. Each freestyle session is given a topic for the poems to address.
In a workbook of God discussions, I revealed how I could be late with the release of the topic of the day. There are also days when I totally forget the significance of the day. That is to explain why we are here on the 21st of May, all the way from the 7th.
Nonso John came in at 9:20am with bleeding stone:
A bleeding stone.
A crying hair strand.
And a thousand other oddities.
All spectacles I’ve once beheld.
But, sitting cross-legged in this place,
Watching this stranger smile at me,
Ghoulish eyes, golden teeth.
Hairs on my skin began to crawl.
I never felt silence
Tickle me like a child.
I swear, I didn’t laugh.
Okay, maybe I laughed a lil bit
Before I started to cry.
I’m standing on the precipice again.
The desert sands, an eternity
Stretched from here on out.
The fear rattles something in my ribs.
But, I’m plodding right on alone.
I never felt silence
Pierce me like a ninja’s katana
I swear, it didn’t even hurt.
Okay, maybe it did a lil bit
Before I started to bleed.
I never felt silence
Slam me like a knock-out punch.
But this stranger is stranger no longer,
Ghoulish eyes and bad breath notwithstanding,
For, we became friends last night.
Now, I’m shooting for the heavens
And I’ll try and catch the rain.
So, hold your ticket, youngins
Daddy’s going to stop the train.
I never heard silence
Whisper sweet empties to me.
Nor felt this long lovely cuddle with her,
Hold each other oh-so-damn close,
Like I felt today.
I hate the conspiracy of silence.
Like him and her and they too
All of creation, and Creator too.
Collude to miss my every single call.
Courtesy herself wants no part of this.
For your sake, I pray.
I pray you never hear silence.
Or feel mute stupefaction.
When answers are all you seek.
Still, I never felt silence.
Love me like this one does.
And after that, there was an uncanny 2hour interval. Like, why did Ebube wait till exactly 10:20 to say this?
Subliminal is a minister, how many of you know her?
You see,
She is like a sister
inside Esther
her assistance to feet trapped like ants on the exposed tongue of a frog sways conclusion.
It’s only an illusion if you weren’t named feeble minded that very moment when you feel your foots scrambling up the stairs it creeps in, transmitting sensations like an ant working with even steps on a skin before it stings
Lark sings carelessly of what they think; one who is slack in his job is the brother to destruction…
Mild feelings of discomfort shouldn’t be your beast, ball rolls from the crowd giving no wave of warmth don’t be too serious rollick
You’re not obliged to hunting feelings of embarrassing you on a pedestal, rock pedestals are results of erosion you know.
If your subconscious erode intentions from a pinnacle belltower obstacles
When you see yourself working up the podium it shouldn’t be a mirage, the range within veins swaying like lightning can make you timid, as self reminds you of how bashful you are to say something too you weren’t given the spirit of fear but of sound mind and power.
It’s far better to dare mighty things to win glorious triumphs even though checkered by failure.
Now, bear in mind that I had not yet said the topic. I didn’t say so nor was there any more freestyling till after 11am, at 11:06am. The Topic?
NEVER WALK ALONE
Before I say anything further, here is UC Truth at 11:10am; just four minutes after the topic was given:
Maybe God gave us two feet
just to teach us
that we should never walk alone
I know you were expecting a long one. Sometimes, there is not really much on a man’s mind.
Now, I was about to talk about the topic. I believe that either in God Sightings or What to pray about, I mentioned that I trust God for these topics. So sometimes, when they pop in my head, I’m like, “Lord, really?!”
At 11:35am, Captain Edet came through like (no, not like bang daraerang)… And he named his freestyle. This guy:
*Unashamed*
Let me some room
I have a speech to make,
Hear now, the words that I speak.
I’m a child of God and I’ve got no shame
I’m a saint of God because he calls me one
I will stand on the highest peak, shout at the top of my voice and make sure the world hears my words.
I’m unashamed of the gospel of Christ
The gospel that breaks chains
Sets the captives free
The gospel that brings victory
Makes the sick man whole
I’m unashamed to declare this day my love for the Father,
ByOh yes, that Mighty Man of war that rules the heavens and earth
The Supreme Commander of the host of heaven
He is my God.
I’m unashamed to proclaim my stand
My salvation and victory
I’m unashamed because I wasn’t given the spirit of fear, no
But that of love and of a sound mind.
Why should I feel shame when I was bought with blood, the blood that speaks better things than that of judgement–the blood of Abel
I’m not ashamed to be called a Christian, this is my identity, this is my reality.
I am who God says I am and I AM NOT ASHAMED.
And he didn’t stop…at 11:46 he dropped another at 11:46am:
I will not leave you nor forsake you,
In the thickest fog, I’ll be there.
When the storm rages and threatens the peace of the ocean, I’ll be there.
When the earth quakes, I’ll be there.
Do not be afraid for I have overcome the world, I’ll be with you always and you’ll never have to walk alone
And then, my people, I thought that the day would be full of poetry spurts like this…but UBA at 1:50pm was the last spurt. Turns out, the topic is Liverpool FC’s Motto or something…so Uba went straight for the neck, with football word associations:
All the arsenal I need, that’s the word
You cut me and forgiveness is all I bleed
Proud Liverpool fan
You know I never walk Alone
I live in HIS Cantonment
Military zone
Tell the Devil stay clear
Washed in his blood
Sin and I don’t stay near
Connect to my source like a charger head to a cord
Always a winner
My God is Mercy
The Devil can’t do me frodd
See, He’s the Way maker
Chain breaker
The owner of the field
Not just a plot but the entire acre
So no matter what life plays
My coach is the game changer
And when the whistle blow, that’s Rapture
It’s game over
So better have in in your corner
Make you no waka Alone
And that was it for freestyles that day. I wonder which month to go to next…
I believe that if you had read any of these poems on their own, you would get a part of the picture. Now you see them together, I think it’s a more wholesome picture. Tell us what you think, and see you next time
Authors:
Nonso John
Ebube
UC Truth
Edet
Uba
The Bleeding Heart
The blood she shed was all her own.
She’d found no way to staunch the flow
For twelve long years.
The cost to her in doctors’ care
Was nothing to her shame and her enormous fears.
Unclean and thus untouchable
She knew she’d live and die alone in blood and tears.
The world had turned its back on her
And all she saw and all she touched was tinged with red.
Denied the right to worship God,
Denied the Temple courts by law, her soul was dead.
Denied all comfort, love of friends
And touch of man, she kept alone her blood-stained bed.
Her last hope lay in this new man,
But with her touch she’d make him, too, unclean, outcast.
And should she even hope for help?
Of all the people God might heal she was the last.
For it was God who sent the curse,
The blood and shame, the loneliness, through Laws He passed.
In spite of all these doubts and fears,
Mistrust of God, she took her chance – a touch unseen.
Then, Jesus, the untainted, changed the Law to Love.
Her world became new, fresh and green.
The blood He shed was all his own,
And flowing down it covered her and washed her clean.
Pamela Urfer
© 2021
Hello Ladies
They asked us out after the age we intended to marry
They begged us to wait until they were stable before we become soul mates.
Our hearts desires to be sisters to our daughters and sons have been crushed
How would our offspring understand us?
We’re left with the gate of loneliness when they leave or when he dies as the case may be.
But this was not how it was written…
They waited together and got their promise
Her clock got better with age even after menopause
She died before him and he was never lonely
So when God is on your matter it becomes an adage
It would always be done deal as long as God is on gear too.
Kapiché?
Azubike Hannah
© 2019
Ruffian prisoner
I am a man,a loner
A ruffian prisoner
Plagued with joy and sadness
A bird full of feathers and fear
My journey is never left alone
Nor my stay allowed to be
From the east to the west
And from north to south
I am occupied in loneliness
Confused, trapped in emptiness
I am the eagle soaring so high
But sadly caged in the web of the sky
I am a ruffian prisoner
Engrossed deeply in anger
In prayer and in loneliness
I am a man in captivity
Wandering prodigally in freedom
Liberate me,Oh Lord!,liberate me…
Chigekwu David
© 2019
Christ a poet 