Words well up from behind my eyes as I type
them without format, stanza or protocol. I simply
need to eradicate the stench of annoyance that
has built up from years of not flushing my
system properly of irritation.
The log of wood in my left eye has grown a
canopy that is the habitat for my patience and
perhaps, I have become a patient nursing the
promises of my Comforter as I watch my kin
shiver in a cold world.
I want to dump my conscience, having found it
has been conditioned by the same Miss
Information that hails from The knowledge of
Good and Evil. Since I’ve fallen off that family
tree, I want to leave that Local Government Area
behind, but…
How?
Lord You said if I left mother, father, sister,
brother and anything anyone for you I would
surely get more in return, but is this what you
meant? Should I really abandon these people to
their ways?
Yes?! I hear you saying ‘Yes’!!
Yes, why not Yes right? With one word, you solve
my dilemma and as usual where I’ve come to
sulk and pout, you suck me dry of depression
and pour out your peace. If I didn’t have you I
would surely have snapped like a twig
underneath a stampede.
Tomorrow I will have a smile for everyone, and
your words will crawl down the my heart only to
drip through my lips and ripples of joy and
praises will send waves of glory into eternity.
It is you, working in me, willing and doing your
thing. All they’ll see is you, while even I am
healed inside your startling power. My gratitude
is unspeakable but I know you know my
thoughts, so you know my expressions of worship
are merely outbursts of spirit pressure.
You are mine, and I am yours,
Your eternal Majesty;
The Lord of Light and Life,
The King of Heaven,
First Signatory of The Better Covenant,
Grand Architect of the Universe,
The Invisible Lord of Everything,
The Inventor of Music and Beauty,
The Chief Dispenser of Meaning,
The Author of Language and Progenitor of its
Diversity,
The Beginning The End,
The Boundary of Existence,
The Puzzle of Wisdom,
The Spirit of Truth,
The Way to Immortality,
The Conqueror of Death,
The Slayer of Nothingness,
My Father, Teacher, Healer, Provider, Shield,
Reward, Wisdom, Power, My God and Lord.
My Spirit, words must have been invented for
this very purpose, You!!!
You!!!
The Love,
The Inventor of Lovers,
You better prepare, because I’m coming home to
praise you like you imagined from the beginning
of the world; and you know… You know.
Tag: poetry
THE PRIESTLY GENERATION
He looked afar in search of a kind
But in the lot, none worthy was found
The earth groaned, the heavens moaned
As darkness covered the people whole
Kings grew numb, princes too dumb
For servants rode horses and sin reigned on deaths throne
A cry was heard around the city walls
That of hope rekindled, joy reborn as chosen elites were brought forth
Redeemed from destruction, renewed by the Word
This kindred a wondrous sight to behold
Priests unto salvation, prophets unto redemption
To bring home the lost and weary souls
Armed with a clean spirit and wilful heart
These guide to reveal hidden mights
An array of mediators, an array of conquerors
All created to bring glory and honour to His throne
A channel of power, God’s mighty arsenal
Breaking through hell’s gated and fallow grounds
They turn not from their shepherd’s lead
They fear not even in the darkest deep
They march on along the righteous path representing Christ
A priestly generation ordained, the Kingdom’s light.
-JEDIDAIAH
Poetry in Pottery 2
I held each piece in my palms, one piece at a time as if examining each piece.
“Read it out loud, ” said the potter. “what good is poetry if it is not read out loud? ” Scoffing he added, “It is no prose! ”
I picked one piece up and aloud I read :
Some things I’m going to do today
I’m going to look back tomorrow
And find them funny
Then I’ll ask God, why do I find these things funny?
And He’ll reply, ”You’re okay”
“Hmmm,” said the potter, urging me on.
I picked up another piece and again aloud I read :
Every child leaves a signature behind
A mark that says they were once here
That they had grown up there
Being upset over a child staining a sheet for example
Is as empty as getting furious over the natural order of things
haha “You see it? If parents are capable of overlooking the mess of their children, how much more capable is God!”
Picking up another piece, I read on :
I have often wished I could rewind tapes of time
That I could check in back in time and unsay that word
Unfall in that love or unwalk down that lane
Unbreak that certain plate or unbutton that passion, at that time
But it never happens
It is at such times that I know it is only God
Only Him can truly do all things
“And this is all my handwriting! In fact it seems I’ve been reading out my own life!”
“Did you think I would give you someone else’s life to read out? ”
I was so awed I wanted to take the pottery pieces home but I figured I already have my life.
On my way home, looking back for a second at the house , it appeared as though it was the one up for sale 😀
I blinked and saw it had been a product of my imagination, perhaps an aftermath of my magical experience some minutes ago.
A woman walked out of the house, holding up a clay jar in her arms, with a child tagging along, and I wondered if she was shown what I had been shown.
Then I thought:
Everyone gets to be taught
In a way they can uniquely understand.
Poetry in Pottery
I went to the potter’s house today ( not the one up for sale :D)
When I got in, the potter welcomed me and I got to see around. Then he set colorful pots before me.
“Poetry in clay jars”, he had said.
Poetry? Was being presented to me? In clay jars? 
I watched him set them and I found they were in the order of the colors of the rainbow. I marveled as the white light shone on them and yet they reflected different colors. (1 Corinthians 12:14)
“Select one.”
I pointed at the one I selected. I’d chosen the yellow pot.
“The Yellow Poet”, he said smiling.
The pot was suddenly raised before me and left to hit the ground in a ‘thud’. I shrieked, “But why!”
“Take a look at the jagged pieces. You’ll see how God’s strength is shown in our weaknesses.”
So I looked on the floor and at the jagged pieces. There were pieces of different shapes and sizes. I looked at the jagged yellow particles. Some were rounded and big enough to hold water. Some were just too small and yet they were an indispensable part of the entire pottery, and sharp enough to prick the sole of one’s foot. Some others were just jagged enough; not too small, not too big.
But they all had poetry inscribed on them. Poetry pieces that comforted (stood the test of time, held water), dilapidated strongholds (hit the nail on the head, pricked), and there were pieces that just fed ( preached, were for just the right time and place).
“What do you see?”
“Poetry in jagged pieces! ”
I was happy. All of a sudden I was filled with joy and I began praising God.
“You feared for the broken pottery but you forget I am the potter and I know the purpose behind the moulding of each pot. If these clay jars, for instance, are not broken, how then can you find the poetry inscribed in them?
These clay jars are the height of my beauty and power ( Psalm 139:14) but they must be broken if their real purpose is to be met.” said the potter to me.
THE PENSPEAK VIDEO: CHUKWUKA CHUKWUMERIJE
TIME
Its boundaries same to all yet varying in displacements
The universal factor condensing in its form
For a wary student in class, very slow
For a lad asleep on the hay, too fast
A realign of composure ordering man’s events into play
For the hawker, an endless trek of shouts, sweat and pain
Hoping at sun down, the pain would be repaid in gain
Each hour counting, history’s witness, penning issues deemed fit
Its entity relies on no stance
It regards no opinions for it is set like the rising of the sun even the seasons to reap or sow
It determines what tides are turned; and authority in itself
It shows no favours
Accomplishments are noted as a virtue of wisely turning time
Wasted nights, unclaimed prizes, a teary eye, stiffed pride
Daunting reminders of wages gotten from cheating time
Regardless of wishes, time once passed could never be reborn
It would be as futile as pushing back a shot bullet to cock a gun
Each minute a precious gift given to treasure
A mighty feat will be managing time to reap its bliss
Time misused could replicate thousands of skies heavy with fountains of regret
Pouring down with no shade to hide from the effects of being drenched in sorrow
When tomorrow hits the band-wagon of yesterdays
It is claimed time as way-laid by misfortunes of mistakes
The future duped by procrastination’s mob raping the essence of today’s success
A probable result of yesterday’s indulgence.
LOVE
Love was why He came, to heal, to deliver, to set the oppressed free.
With depth so deep, the oceans couldn’t compete neither could mountains and hills comprehend, love’s height surpassed them.
Love was why He died
Sickened with faults and guilt,
Dieing in pain because wrath inescapable came to us
A law so right and fair, made by Him
The King that rules the Kings
Yet He bore the curse and shame
To free us all from rage
Love is why he came
Dirty sins with gravity
Colours, sizes and weights that differ
Redeeming and restoring
Love is why He rose
Not for show of strength or power
But He went through the stress
Leaving Jasper and Emerald for dust
Skipping death after 3 days
Love is why He stayed
Never forsaking, never condemning
Love is why He bled
From sins not yet sinned and communion into recover
That in it life and health could be
Love is why He left
To give a way for another so pure and meek
To teach and comfort
And strengthen in time of need
-Michelle Okonicha
He found me…
…and just again I was disappointed. It felt like I slept through the journey and just when I thought I had landed, my hopes got crashed.
He, Mr Law, was really cool, even cooler you could chill drinks in him. He promised me satisfaction if I’ll continually obey. I could almost swear I had this locked in with a B and K because I was all ready to do what he wanted.
I gave in. Like a skin to a boil, I gave in for a swell time of my life.
I wanted to please him and earn his love and trust. But sooner than later, the usual dreaded realization dawned and I prayed to race out for it was all empty and void.
Worse still each try left me feeling so incompetent. He even made me see that it’s all my fault, all the time.
Maybe, I gotta get up and try and try and try…quitters never quit yea?
I’ve tried many times but it just doesn’t seem to work.
Something tells me that there must be someone, yes that one guy…that guy that loves completely.
But where is he?
My Soul longs to see
With him I crave to be
Maybe he exists only in my fantasy.
Even if he does exist, how much longer should I wait?
How much more time do I have to spare?
“A woman’s time flies…” or so they say;
I hope I’ll still be in mine when he calls.
I am really tired of testing and trying, tasting and spitting out.
My soul gets parched each time I do.
I just hope I’ll still be in my time when he calls.
Still lost in the noise of my very own thoughts, Which had long started to sound like music, I didn’t realize I had wandered off into the road I once denied.
A road so broad yet lacked space.
In this vagabond state, unable to discern what the morrow holds and barely caring what happens next, I heard my name.
I was stunned ‘cos never before had my name sounded such harmony.
T’was the most beautiful sound that has ever walked into my ears.
This voice so gentle yet strong and firm called for me to exchange my burdens for rest but having wandered so long, it sounded too good for trust…and again I felt there ought to be a price for it. Nothing goes for nothing.
In my state of doubt still, the voice beckoned. It still sounded too easy, I couldn’t give into that. My old lovers weren’t that nice.
The sweet voice persisted and then my eyes opened and I saw a spark of light which flickered in front of me.
Nothing and nobody can be compared to the one I saw standing in front of me when my eyes fully opened.
His eyes held so much love that penetrated and irrigated my soul.
The intensity of his tenderness was unbearable so that I fell, yes, I fell into his strong arms where my safety rests assured.
My head rested on a heart that beats for me and I drowned in a satisfaction that has never been conceived by nature.
I couldn’t help but ask Mr Grace where he had been all this while. As he spoke to me I saw his love. A love that is not affected by my inconsistencies. I didn’t even have to work for it…it was free! I just accepted it and that’s all I ever did.
He found me!
And sorry I was not in my time, I was in His.
-HIS Ruth
Christ a poet 