The Missing Me

The garden,
fresh and full.
I wasn’t alone in the garden.

I named the tress,
I named the birds and beasts, I named the river,mountains and all things.

I was happy with all I named
But a part of me was missing inside me.

I looked for this part of myself in the garden
I looked at the cows
I didn’t find it

I looked at the monkeys
I didn’t find it
I looked all around
Yet I couldn’t find the missing me.

Out of frustration
I ignored a strong part of me in the ocean of nothingness.

I ignored the rhythmic vibration that this lost self keep echoing in space.

But , one day
I slept soundly as usual
In my wood carving shade.

Maybe God came
I don’t remember
But the tortoise affirms
That He opened my body and took a rib to create the missing me for me.

Now standing tall
Standing fulfilled
Standing whole
I have found my entire self.

Ugwu David C. ©2023

Oak Season

As clear as day I hear it
The sound of a raging storm
My thoughts unclear as the cloud
My brows knitted in bewilderment

We spoke words
And this day we waited upon
The unveiling of what came as a prompting
The head start we need

Where did we m…
Stop
A stern interruption
Like lightning it flashed before my eyes

Leafs falling from a 100 feet
Roots absorbing water from a river
Branches unmoved by the wind
A trunk as large as the Pompey pillar

As clear as day I hear it
It’s Oak season
Rejoice
It has come

Imani Dokubo
(C) 2022

If All Were Medicine

IF ALL WERE MEDICINE

If all were medicine
Jehova Rapha would’ve retired
and left his theatre for vaccine

but
all weren’t about men’s abilities:

For all doctors had her contact, yet
her flow was as a pool –
the woman with blood issue.
but when to the Rabbi’s hem touched
the river ceased
and to her, received wholeness

If all were medicine
His stripes would be no more but useless
and thirty-nine lashes in vain

but
all weren’t about men’s discoveries

For Lazarus was ill
three days being buried to death
yet on the fourth, the man of Galilee cried
there in loud voice, he raised the dead
“loose him, let him go”

If all were medicine
there won’t be miracle
in the name of Yeshua…

But all weren’t medicine,
let’s shout “Jesus
and we’re healed!

Josh Oluwafemi Oloyede
©2020

TALE OF THE HEAVENS

Far away
Away as the waters that once finds its dwelling at shore

How far is far
Are you talking about endless oceans or a stary sky?

I have lost my rhythm at the sound of the endless ocean
Scared to trace the pathway
Which I once trusted as the Broadway

The way to the Broadway can be deceptive
But we are receptive to the leading of the rhythm within
The one that leads to the path of life

The path of life
The crown of eternity
Grizzled with Gold and emerald
Joining the Herald
The cherubs and seraphs in the song of redemption

The very redemption that liberates
The one that exposes me to my strengths
The joy is unending
This song ushers me to rivers of living water

Most times I hear more about angels singing
But poetry is hardly talked about
Does the angel write?
Is poetry their kind?

If they ever wrote I wonder what colour the words displayed
But I think to myself, if Christ is a poet then maybe their is a trace that leaves clues

Maybe they write in blue
Or green, or pink,
No, I think golden, because of the golden scroll
Maybe not
Maybe black or brown or no color
Maybe their ways is a mystery to unravel

I think a greater mystery to unravel is the way they study their master through us, the chosen once, the once who have given themselves to the Word

It teaches me the true way of a living master
That conquered me in my rebellion
Adonai
That divided the river Nile

The Niles hear and see
They are receptive to the masters voice
Same way they can be with ours
Cause the signet has been placed on us

Imani Dokubo
The Alchemist
© 2019

ETERNAL LIFE

it was so much joy
That day I joined the life
In the race of men
I gave my first smile, looking into her face who gave me life
While mouth stocked to her chest gulping out desperately a white river
A white river that would make me strong and grow

Day by day I got to know how life is
The sweetness of it and the sour it gives
How good life could be and how evil could penetrate
I only know the first life given from a woman
But as time grows
I begin to see despite life was given life itself could be taken too

I see the young and old been taken
Taken not from the woman who gave it
But taken from another life named death
Death I was told it’s also a life
Another life not to live walking
A life laying silently below the ground
Soundless, only the cracking walking sounds of termites feasting on every part beneath the ground

One morning ,I walked down with mama to a place
Under a shield filled with different faces
Looking lost but wanting more
There , I got to know of another life
Far better than the life from a woman and the life beneath the ground

I heard of the third life
A life flowing with milk and honey
A life of peace without stress
A life which know no sickness nor sorrow
A life forever more with no endings reigning with kings and Angels
A life bought by a boy called Beloveth Son
Who give to it freely with His blood
Blood bonding is as one
That whoever believeth in Him should not perish
But have Eternal life

Deeyoke
©2019

Dear stranger

Dear stranger,
Do not hold down your doubt, your anger,

Life is no ordinary poem,
With lines, stanzas and rhymes,
Life is no ordinary Odyssey,
With storms, fear and courage,

‘No’ your breath is more,
Breath of life is more than,
a poor poem, a poor journey,
And so I say,
Let the apparition show,
Let the street overflow,
With the words of psalms,
May the words of proverbs,
And Matthew fly across your mind,

But please dear stranger,
Do not restrict your doubt, your anger,
Let them challenge the Psalm,
And proverbs and all,

And when your inner man is ready,
And your reasonable war over,
Throw away all the broken armors,
Of doubt and anger and sit still,
For awhile by the river,

For I am the crown, the king,
The light, the peace,
The truth, life eternal,
In me every road,
Leads the way home,

Dear stranger,
Do not resist your doubt, your anger,
But come, follow me.

Ugwu David C
© 2018