Senator Ihenyen

ANA PRIZES 2011 SHORTLISTS

author — Tue, 15 Nov 2011 16:34:23 +0000

The following works are shortlisted for the ANA awards 2011. The eventual winners will be announced at the Awards Dinner of the 30th International Annual Convention of the ANA in Abuja.

Adult Category

1. ANA/NDDC Flora Nwapa Prize for Women Writing (100,000 naira)
Heart Trick by Joan Oji
Our Wife Forever by Julie Okoh
Twilight at Terracotta Indigo by Umari Anyim

2. ANA/Jacaranda Prize for Prose (50,000 naira)
Sieged by Adamu Kyuta Usman
The Two Sparrows by Ida Offor

3. ANA/Chevron Prize for Environmental Issues ($2000)
Only one merit being shortlisted. It will be announced at the Convention.

4. ANA/NDDC Ken Saro Wiwa Prize for Prose (100,000 naira)
Roses and Bullets by Akachi Ezeigbo
The Secret Lives of Baba Segi’s Wives by Lola Soneyin
Twilight at Terracotta Indigo by Usman Anyim

5. ANA/NDDC Gabriel Okara Prize for Poetry (100,000 naira)
No award made. Three entries that merit Honourable mention will be announced at the Convention.

6. ANA/James Ene Hemshaw Prize for Playwriting (150,000 naira)
Olubu by Isiaka Aliagan
The Scent of Crude Oil by Eni Umuko

7. ANA/NDDC J.P. Clark Prize for Drama (100,000)
A Haunting Part by Julie Okoh
Casket of Her Dreams by Isaac Attah Ogezi
Ogidi Mandate by Olu Obafemi

8. ANA/Cadbury Prize for Poetry ($2000)
Ode on Lagos & Other Portraits by Jeff Unaegbu
The Beauty I Have Seen by Tanure Ojaide
The Primus of Cupid by Abubakar Othman

9. ANA/Esiaba Irobi Prize for Playwriting (50,000 naira)
Only one merits being shortlisted. To be announced at the Convention.

Children’s Category

1. Fatima Akilu, Preye and the Sea of Plastic
2. Chinyere Obi-Obasi, The Great Fall
3. Lola Shoneyin, Mayowa and the Masquerade

ANA/Funtime Prize for Children’s Literature (Prose)
1. Nnenna Ihebom, The Lunar Princess
2. spencer Okoroafor, Jide Meets a Ghost
3. K. C. Suleiman, Akin’s Assignment

ANA/Lantern Books Prize for Children Fiction
1. Chinyere Obi-Obasi, Chijike
2. Nu U. Nu, Tension in Animal Kingdom
3. Ayo Kolapo, The Blind’s Daughter

ANA/Mazariyaja Prize
No shortlist because of insufficient entries.

Hyacinth Obunseh
General Secretary,
Association of Nigerian Authors (ANA).

Filed under: Literature Tagged: Abubakar Othman, Akachi Ezeigbo, ANA Convention, ANA prizes, Isaac Ogezi, Nigerian literature, Okoroafor, Olu Obafemi, shortlists, Tanure Ojaide, winners

Another September 11

author — Sun, 11 Sep 2011 06:46:40 +0000

(Last year, on September 1, 2010, I wrote a poem titled “Between September 11 and September 1″ following Obama’s fulfilment of the promise that U.S. soldiers would finally begin to leave Iraq. Today, it is another September 11. Osama Bin Laden has been killed by US forces. However, it appears there are now many Osama Bin Ladens in the world. I have extended the previous poem and retitled it, “Another September 11″).

September 11…

that tragic turn

that changed the world

the terror that struck the Pentagon

and the ripples of fear that spread across our heart

when man and beast stood side by side

and no one could tell who was man

and no one could tell who was beast.

September 1…

with the bloody bullets from our gathering guns

with the merciless missiles from our American armoury

man went to war with the beast.

When the last gunshots were heard after years of yearning

one left the land of the other

leaving behind blood and tears

shrouds of hate and love, flags of
hope and despair

and no one could tell who was man

and no one could tell who was beast.

And after a deadly decade of
haunting Osama

Obama makes a hero out of a virulent villain,

When in Pakistan bullets found the target
And far in the dead sea the body is buried.
But who would have known
That the villain
had become the hero
And the hero, the villain.

Filed under: POETRY Tagged: 9/11, Attack, Bin, death, Laden, Obama, Osama, Pakistan, Peace, Terrorism, Terrorists, US

Searching

author — Sun, 11 Sep 2011 06:11:58 +0000

I search
for rainbow in the sky,
but there is no sunlight
piercing through the
ranting raindrops

and I begin to wonder
where to find its colours –
colours of my heart, colours of my dreams,
my hope.

In the emptiness,
I begin to understand
that if I could not look into the eyes
of the living around me
to see that the rainbow
gleams there too

I may never find the colours
to paint a better place
for you and me

(Selected from my collection of poems, “Colourless Rainbow”, SEARCHING is dedicated to all the victims of the 9/11 terrorist attack and those affected by it through out the world. Peace to the world)re to find its colours –
colours of my heart, colours of my dreams,
my hope.

In the emptiness,
I begin to understand
that if I could not look into the eyes
of the living around me
to see that the rainbow
gleams there too

I may never find the colours
to paint a better place
for you and me

Filed under: POETRY Tagged: 9/11, Bin, Laden, Osama, Peace, Pentagon, Security, Terrorism, US, victims, White House

Senator Ihenyen: the New Nigerian Writer to Watch by James Nnadi

author — Sat, 18 Jun 2011 12:50:36 +0000

The Abuja literary community had the opportunity on May 28, 2011 to experience the most appealing and imaginative poetry of Senator Ihenyen, a new voice in Nigerian literature. The Lagos-born poet whose first name ordinarily would make him pass for a member of the National Assembly wrote had a wonderful time with the writers, dignitaries and literary enthusiasts who filled the Pen & Pages Bookstore to the brim.
Emerging poet, Senator Iyere Ihenyen had been invited by the Abuja Writers Forum as featured writer at the highly-acclaimed Guest Writer Session.
The final year Law student of the University of Benin, Benin City, held his audience spellbound right from the start till finish! After reading out Senator Ihenyen’s fast-growing profile as a poet, short story writer and literary researcher with commendable recognition, Mr. Ajibade, Secretary of the AWF went ahead to invite the new author to take the hot seat.
Senator Ihenyen, reading from his debut book, Colourless Rainbow, stole the heart of the audience as he delivered each selected poem with fresh energy, profound passion and fiery imagination! Each delivery attracted loud applause from the audience who were thrilled and fascinated, not just with the young author’s mastery of performance, but the beauty, emotions and thoughts which his poetry expressed in the most imaginative manner. From the melifluous flow of words to the evocative imageries, Senator Ihenyen fired the imagination of the audience as they were deeply drawn into the overriding images of blood and rain which coloured the movements, “The Mirror”, “Camouflage” and “Chameleons”. The author whose editor was the highly respected critic and editor, late Okey Okpa (Foot), went ahead to thrill the audience with poems selected from the remaining movements, “Images on the Breaking Walls of My Heart”, “Masquerades”, “Crossroads” and finally, “The Tide”. Interestingly, the collection of poems, “Colourless Rainbow” which was released from the stables of Coast2Coast earlier this year, is written in seven movements, symbolising the seven colours of rainbow in ascending order. According to the author, the work is presented as an indivisible and interrelated whole, not as a collection of individual poems. Curiously, perhaps this explains the recurring images of blood, rainbow and rain which run through the whole work. In one way, this effects an appreciable level of unity in the work, while on the other hand, it also appears to create an overriding atmosphere of violence which the reader would fast become familiar with when reading Senator Ihenyen’s poetry. From the comments made by majority of the members of the Abuja audience, this style was highly commended based on the use of symbolic and imaginative words as a most appealing medium of communication. Indeed, Senator’s poetry won many hearts over to the genre of poetry, as not a few of the audience confessed that they were greatly fascinated with the writing of the new Nigerian author.
However, Elnathan Jo, while also commending Senator Ihenyen’s poetry, advised that the excessive energy and passion be toned down and more emphasis be placed on skill, as obtainable in South African protest poems. Also, Unoma Azuah, who was also in attendance, while comparing the author’s work to those of Sefi Atah and the likes, expressed her admiration for the poetry of the Lagos-born poet but advised that the clitche of blood and cluster of adjectives could have been better treated. Interestingly, however, majority others, including Ibrahim Kabura, aka Little Master Ibrahim, praised Senator Ihenyen’s poetry for what they described as most appealing, flowing from his use of imageries, symbolisms and mellifluous words to express emotions and thoughts in ways that fire their imaginations.
According to the new voice in Nigerian poetry, who served as the distinguished editor of the Catholic Digest, Nigeria Federation of Catholic Students (NFCS UNIBEN) Senator Ihenyen, with smiles betraying the dimple on his left cheek, thanked the audience for their beautiful comments, insightful questions and constructive criticisms. He started by saying that rather than being overtly defensive like a “Maiwada to a Mudoski”, he would leave the critics, if any, to dissect his poetry.
However, the young writer who was born in the 80s and hails from Esan-West LGA, Ekpoma, Edo State, remarked that the state Nigeria is at the moment requires clarity in communication, unrestrained passion and fresh emotions with an urgent message. He continued by pointing out that he could not afford to “beautify ugliness” by reducing protest poetry to sonnets as seen in Dennis Brutus’ poetry, and consequently create an unintended disconnection between his lines and the message. “There is no time to miss the message”, he said. On the employment of imageries, symbols and adjectives, the one-time Campus President of Golden Minds Nigeria, University of Benin, who doubled as the former President of the Catholic Law Students Association, (CLASA UNIBEN Chapter), added that his poetry is essentially driven by the grandeur of Leopold Senghor’s poetry, the sophistication of Wole Soyinka’s poetry, and Niyi Osundare’s lyricism, but with a voice and a message of his own.
The audience must have appreciated the writer’s ability to identify the literary tradition which he belonged and his experimentation with it in a bid to carve out a niche of his own when they applauded his response. Indeed, one of the audience had remarked earlier that Senator Ihenyen’s poetry was a fresh voice – a “transition from Wole Soyinka and the others” based on the contemporary realities expressed in “Colourless Rainbow”. Well, if you ask me, I honestly think that Senator Ihenyen’s poetry deserves serious attention from literary critics and reviewers who appreciate (and they should!) contemporary works.
There couldn’t have been a better way to draw the curtain than have the freshest phenomenon in contemporary Nigerian poetry, Senator Ihenyen, pick out lucky numbers for the free-books raffle draw, and of course, sign autographs, and smile to the camera. With him were Prof. Unoma Azuah, Kabura Zakama, El-Nathan John, and many other writers and literary enthusiasts.
Senator Ihenyen, author of “Colourless Rainbow”, is currently working on a second volume of poetry, “Ripples Across Lives”, centred on HIV/AIDS. With interest in literary research, he has the unpublished title, “Complete Poetry: for African Students and Writers” to his name. His webblog: www.senatorihenyen.wordpress.com

James Nnadi
Abuja.

Filed under: POETRY

Eating the Poetry in Okpanachi’s “The Eaters of the Living”

author — Sat, 05 Mar 2011 12:58:37 +0000

Eating the Poetry in Okpanachi’s “The Eaters of the Living”

Book : Eaters of the Living,
Musa Idris Okpanachi,
Kraft, 2006, (111p) ISBN 978-039-195-9
Reviewer: Senator Ihenyen

Perhaps, I would have ended up being one of the “eaters of the living” if I had not received Dr. Musa Okpanachi’s collection of poems, “The Eaters of the Living” recently. Winner of the 2008 ANA Cadbury Poetry Prize, and one of the shortlisted books in the 2009 Nigeria Prize for Literature, I suppose that only a cannibal could afford to eat up the opportunity of reading such book. However, you will not be totally wrong to describe me as one of the eaters of his poetry after I had “eaten” his lines, word-by-word.

Structured into eight sections, “The Eaters of the Living” attempts to portray a nation, ravaged by anomie, corruption, violence and power – a “carnival of cannibals”. In my attempt to devour the work, I will centre this review around what I consider to be Okpanachi’s poetic techniques, predominantly, employed in his work to create certain meanings and effects, drawing illustrations from the book.

Owing to its thematic pre-occupation, there is the predominant use of paradox and irony in the work. This effectively portrays the contradictions that have claimed a nation in the face of socio-political problems. In the very first poem, “Silence of Time”, the poet says:

“We dived into the ocean
And found it shallow.”

Also, in “Manifesto”, the persona says:

“I bring you a Christmas
Without a messiah”

“…I give you the flower of my love
That will lure you to death”

“Welcome to the state dinner
As guests to be eaten
Lets toast with your tears
Help yourself to the flesh
of your own blood”

In the poem, “The Free Prisoners”, lines 8-11 is ironical just as it is also paradoxical:

“We are the only prisoners
Walking freely on
The street in shackles
And bangles of handcuffs”

In another poem, “Crush Me”, it is ironical that

“I taught you
The art of life
With which you play the game of war”

In stanza four of the same poem:

“Silence me,
Take away my voice
For I gave you the tongue;”

As Dr. Okpanachi rightly describes it in his poem, “In Me” (pg 79), these contradictions are indeed “the world/on its head.” It mirrors the disturbing plight that we have found ourselves, in a nation with raped, ravaged and devoured “common heritage and patrimony”.

Apart from the use of paradox and irony, I discovered a copious use of repetition and parallelism in Dr. Okpanachi’s first volume of poems. These sound techniques do not only effectively create a musical quality in his poetry, but also reinforce meanings intended. It runs through the whole book like blood flowing through the veins in the body of his poetry. Of course, illustrations that would stir auditory appeal in our sense of sound and open your mind like a parachute abound.

In “The Spectators” (pg 38), every first line of each stanza begins with the lines, “We were witnesses”, giving the poem rhythm and unity. Also, in the poem with which the collection is titled, “Eaters of the Living” (pg 28), enjoy these lines:

“Our nation is a nation of the eaters
They eat everything and everyone
They eat like the termites
They eat like the cancer cells
They eat like acids…”

“I am not tired” is also repetitive in the poem, “I am not tired” (pg 25).

Parallel expressions and repetitions make “Where to Stand” (pg 19) an appealing poem. Beyond its musical quality, there is a unity of thoughts and emotions, while also placing emphasis on its meaning. Other illustrations can be found in “We give you this country” (pg 11), “After the dawn” (pg 61), “My Song” (pg 58), “Crush Me” (pg 71), Dirtied as this poem (pg 80), and “I am” (pg 82). Others are “In Me” (89), “Dossier of flowers” (pg 92), “She Came” (pg 95) and many others you would discover when you pick up “The Eaters of the Living”.

On imagery, Dr. Okpanachi, predominantly employs fresh similes and metaphors you will find imaginative, vivid and evocative. I will start with my favourites:

“…my face recurs at every door
Like decimal digits (lines 15-16, The Quest, pg 88).

“The acres of your thought
The limitless hectares of your imagination (11-13, We give you this country, pg 11).

“They eat like cancer cells
They eat like acids (lines 5-6, The Eaters of the Living, pg 28 )

“I bring you an iron rule
in the shadow of your
freedom” (lines 5-7, Manifesto, pg 14)

Other uses of imageries imageries include:

“They were cut down
Like banana stems” (lines 21-22, The Spectators, pg 38)

“At midnight,
Dark like the soulless
silhouette” (lines 8-10, Hangmen, pg 43)

“The fruits of freedom
Plucked from the pages of
Our history” (lines 49-51, Crush Me, pg 72)
These imageries make Dr. Okpanachi’s poetry rich and profound.

The use of enjambment, in which a line of poetry runs into the next, creates a free-flowing expression of thoughts, feelings and beauty in the work. “Code of Silence” (pg 13) is a good example:

“The code of silence
Is written across
Our lips
Hanging on our noses
Destinies written
in the mud on
the ruts of tanks…”

“Hunger” (pg 23), “I am not tired” (pg 25) and “Dossiers of Flowers” (pg 92), including many others contain good use of enjambment which makes the widely published lecturer at the University of Maiduguri express himself in a tide of uncluttered verses.

Curiously, I sense a leitmotif in Dr. Okpanachi’s collection of poems. By this, I mean a frequently repeated theme in his poetry. This is the theme of silence. At the risk of betraying the legal side of me, I am forced to flip back the pages of this collection to the Acknowledgement page for authoritative purposes. On page six, the author whose second collection, “From the Margins of Paradise” is forthcoming from Kraft Books, stated:

“I wish to thank my co-travellers in the march of SILENCE. The wayfarers who endure SILENCE,…who understand the unspoken language of the MUTE, ho believe that the mystery of SILENCE speaks with the magic of courage…”(emphases mine).

In his opening poem, “Silence of Time” (pg 10), silence appears, and reappears in his third poem, “Code of Silence” (pg 13). What is the role of silence in Dr. Okpanachi’s poetry? I will leave that issue for another day, or you can unravel the plot behind this “silence” when you read this volume of over 60 poems.

Finally, I will attempt to briefly identify what I consider to be the eaters of the living poetry of the author. By this, I mean some typographical issues. In “After the dawn” (pg 69), I suspect that “down” as used in line 18 is a typographical error. The word, “dawn” appears to be the author’s intention. On mechanics, in “The god we made” (pg 34), the “L” in “lord of the streets” should be capitalised since a full stop had been introduced prior the “lord”. Lines 9, 14, 17, 30, 32 and 35 falls under this category. I believe these were not deliberate as they do not appear to be appropriate employment of poetic licenses.

On the whole, I have become one of the eaters of Dr. Okpanachi’s poetry – in the positive sense! Definitely, you should be dining with Dr. Okpanachi’s poetry by picking up your copy of “The Eaters of the Living”, to discover a peculiar dinner party where we are being feasted upon by the monster you will find on its illustrative cover page.

Senator Ihenyen
author, Colourless Rainbow,

http://www.senatorihenyen.wordpress.com/

Filed under: POETRY

A Poem Written by God

author — Tue, 01 Feb 2011 22:46:27 +0000

I long to write a poem on the walls of your heart, that whenever your heart beats,
you will feel the throbs of my love,
steaming beyond the flames of February fourteen.

But whenever my eyes fall on yours,
Your eyes gleaming on my mobile wallpaper,
Heightened hills of ignited imaginations break into dust, waterfalls of brimming emotions lean to a slithering drop,

Because what I see before me
Is a work of poetry,
of art, of nature, of perfection, of immortality -
my muse is too bemused to mould your being
with the clay of human hands, the mortality of human desires, of human
imperfections.

The word of God has become flesh in you,
Would you dwell inside my heart so true,
For I now long to write on your lips with a kiss,
You’re a poem written by God in bliss.

Filed under: POETRY Tagged: Art, God, Immortality, love, POETRY, Relationship, Valentine's day

Man in the Mirror

author — Sat, 08 Jan 2011 09:05:04 +0000

Cigarette burning in the ashtray
empty bottles before a belching belly

down the street
he finds a bed beside a gutter
and when he finds his feet,

a punching bag in the sleepless face
of a woman waiting by the window

fear in the face, screams from the scene,
tears in the eyes, blood in the nose, body on the floor

(silence)

his face falls on the mirror
away from the lifeless-looking face:
Tell me it’s not true
Tell me it’s not true
I’ve AIDS
Or just let me die
let me die!

Make me live like this

(silence)

I’ll kill the man in the mirror

(culled from a collection of poems in progress, Ripples Across Lives: Poetry against HIV/AIDS).

Filed under: POETRY Tagged: AIDS, blood, blood test, death, depression, despair, drinking, HIV, life, Living with AIDS, POETRY, violence

On Boxing Day

author — Tue, 28 Dec 2010 18:03:35 +0000

a box
inside it was kept
a gift

a heart
a throbbing heart
with carol beats

our love
was again reborn in a manger
and I’d followed my heart
to the star from afar

who could have known
your words were keys to the kisses
carols at Christmas, as sweet as chickens in the fried kitchen

these words of yours tonight -
gift in a box, royalty in a manger,
merry-making in magical moments

Filed under: POETRY Tagged: boxing day, Christmas, love, Religion and Spirituality

Tell Us (Nigeria at 50)

author — Fri, 24 Sep 2010 06:40:04 +0000

Countless cowries have been tossed and tossed
on countless shrines; countless kola-nuts broken and chewed;
countless gourds of palm-wine poured beneath palm fronds
to search out your place in the hands of destiny!

Countless times,
We have seen the magic of the moon
in your eyes, twinkling with silvery illumination of love.
Countless times, we have seen the milk of your breasts
flowing like palm-wine from the gourds of life.
And we have, countless times, heard the music of your heart
titillating with the thrills of tranquil nights.
Countless times, we have seen the light of your soul
glow like the fires from the pit of this calabash.

But tell us why widows lie with bereaved brooms
in the midnight? Tell us why only blood
gush from your black breasts when young lips
run with hungry-innocent eyes to your lap?
Tell us why we love to dance
to the disharmony of war drums?

Tell us! Tell us why we no longer hear drums of thunder
after flashes of lightning? And no rain
after dark clouds…Tell us!

…my pen shall bleed
the last drop of its dark blood,
through this labyrinth with solitary lamentations –
For I am lost in your images
as yet more cowries are tossed to unveil
the black face of my virgin bride
Whom I made love to in the moonlight
But found no blood on her white garment at dawn

Senator Ihenyen
(From my forthcoming book, Colourless Rainbow: Poetry of My Childhood, ‘Tell Us’ is dedicated to the Golden Jubilee celebration on the occasion of Nigeria’s Independence Day on October 1).

Filed under: POETRY

The Red Sea of Your Heart

author — Thu, 23 Sep 2010 05:26:43 +0000

With the fins of of your love
I dive into the ocean in your eyes
in search of the hidden treasures of your thoughts,
in search of the arrow in your heart

but the deeper I go
Closer and closer I draw to the dangers of drowning,
but my doubts remain above the neck of this strangulation
above the terror of your torture, the poison of your beauty.

Tell me, love
Is it the colourless sky of your presence
that has buried me in the grave of my wondering?
Like night and day, bat and butterfly,
We are so close, yet so far away
We are so close, yet so much apart
We are so close, your ugliness terrifies my being,
And my beauty fascinates your beinglessness!

If this is called love,
let me become finless in your world
but grow wings to fly towards that place
above the sky of this Red sea of your heart
for I’m dead to you
just as you live in the death
I now bring to you with love!

Senator Ihenyen

Filed under: POETRY

Between September 11 and September 1

author — Sat, 04 Sep 2010 00:48:23 +0000

(Today, September 1, 2010, U.S. soldiers finally begin to leave Iraq. Obama makes good his promise)

September 11…

that tragic turn

that changed the world

the terror that struck the Pentagon

and the ripples of fear that spread across our heart

when man and beast stood side by side

and no one could tell who was man

and no one could tell who was beast.

September 1…

with the bloody bullets from our gathering guns

with the merciless missiles from our American armoury

man went to war with the beast.

When the last gunshots were heard after years of yearning

one left the land of the other

leaving behind blood and tears

shrouds of hate and love, flags of
hope and despair

and no one could tell who was man

and no one could tell who was beast

(c)senatorihenyen2010

Filed under: POETRY

IBB 2011

author — Fri, 20 Aug 2010 06:24:02 +0000

when nightmares become daydreams to bring smiles to faces
when shrouds spread out to wing our dreams to flight

and the blown brains of daring democrats
become the watermelon we wait to eat from the bloody ballot box

are these not the demonic dividends
that the gap-toothed is boldly bringing to us?

Yesterday
it was the freest and fairest we ever had
yet the waiting winner never saw the faces of freedom
nor fairness

…if only you could annul the past
to put the future behind bars,
would these shadows haunting your present not have stepped aside?

Filed under: POETRY

Okigbo Writes Sandburg a Poem (to Chimalum)

author — Fri, 20 Aug 2010 00:35:31 +0000

BEFORE YOU, Carl Sandburg,
naked I sleep;
before your poetic presence,
a prodigal

leaning on your lines
lost in your words
Under your muse wait I
with pen and paper,
watchman for the magic words
wordsmith with your irons
at the fireplace;

out of the silence of our graves:
give ear and hearken…

let my living lines live and let live
and turn no more on your dusty bed

STILL WATERS of the end

Filed under: POETRY

Abiola’s Cry

author — Sat, 08 May 2010 05:30:44 +0000

When a Poem becomes a Prophesy…

Below is one of my poems, Abiola’s Cry, contained in “Camoufladge”, one of the seven movements in my forthcoming volume of poems, “Colourless Rainbow: Poetry of My Childhood. I have posted it specially because having been written over 6 years ago, it seems a prophetic message as IBB is about to contest in the 2010 Presidential elections. Having annuled the June 12 elections, this is Abiola’s Cry to IBB!

Abiola’s Cry

I know your faces, splashed by threads of light against the shadowy
Walls of death! Those dark eyes staring at the spirit
of a struggling soul, held behind bars of brutality!

And do I not know your footsteps?
Those brutal boots that crunch aloud along the corridors of death!
Take my soul! Take my soul! Feed my flesh to the vultures!
Paint the rainbow with the colours of my blood!
Better for me to die like this than bow to your democratic subtleties!

This spirit shall blaze in your darkened dawn
like the fire of the sun. This voice shall be the cockcrow
Of your voiceless dawn. These splashing tears shall wash
away the stains still dripping from our wounded innocence.

Listen! Listen to the throb of my pulse
As it dances to the beats of a true dawn
Not born by tyranny. Not baptised with brutality.
Democaracy, not crucified by truth!

Filed under: POETRY

At First Sight (to Tes)

author — Mon, 15 Mar 2010 11:43:51 +0000

I never belived in love at first sight
But when I set my eyes on her from the one-storey height
I dashed down the stairs to know if I’d been right
But she had walked far down the red-clayed street,
And I felt my heart boil with some heat,
As I wandered and wondered if again we would meet.

A moment later she was walking pass again,
And I was glad my waiting was not in vain
As I’d felt my heart all day hangin on in pain.
She was on the phone as I gently walked beside her in patience,
A faint smile in my eyes in the sunny ambience,
‘You’re stupid’, said she as I shrank with sudden inconvenience.

‘Me?’ I asked calmly as I smiled and watched in unbelief,
‘Sorry, not you’, she replied as smiles rose on her flowery face giving me relief,
And quickly stole a closer look at her gleamin eyes like a daylight thief.

Moments later, too glad to know she didn’t mean pimple,
She told me her name and how much she loved my dimple,
Dazed, I told her it was the same with her low-cut hair as Tessy gave me a sweet soft chuckle.
It felt like we had known each other for long,
Waking inside me a strange fondness so strong,
And I heard my heartbeat gurgling like a gong.

She told me she would see me again that evening,
And I took her word without doubting,
Because I could see it in her eyes by just listening. The study clock ticked towards 9:00 that night,
And I felt the wingless angel from space had gone in flight,
But her eyes were on my mind though out of sight.

I struck the match-stick against the match-box at last,
The candlelight revealed d red-inked case names I must cram fast,
If this coming exam i must blast.
A quiet knock at the door kept me wondering,
What my hostel mate, Charles, wanted that evening,
When I saw in front of me that eyes again glittering!

‘What-a-surprise! I-I-didn’t know u were still coming down’,
‘I promised i was going to come’, replied she, with angelic eyes making me unworthily drown,
As I asked her to come in like a visiting crown.
When after a fleeting hour of friendship that felt real and right,
At 9:38 I softly kissed her forehead goodnight,
As she took my heart away with her that night.

Day and night I craved and longed for her awake or asleep,
As I breathe without a heart inside my rips so deep,
Until thirty-seven days later, she gave her heart to me to keep.

After burning ourselves to ashes with the fire of love,
You have taken my heart away with you with the wind,
Dimples disappear, tears overflow, heartbreak haunts.
But tell me, Tes, if your love was ever true,
How come I still have the heart to fall in love again?

(c)Senator Ihenyen2010

Filed under: POETRY

ANA is Behaving like a Political Party, says Osundare, Nigerian Poet

author — Tue, 09 Mar 2010 08:41:06 +0000

> ANA is behaving like a political party, says
> Osundare
>
>
>
> By Anote Ajeluorou
>
>
>
> The Guardian, March 8, 2010
>
> http://odili.
> net/news/ source/2010/ mar/8/4.html
>
>
>
> After taking a critical look at the current state of
> affairs of the once vibrant Association of Nigerian Authors
> (ANA), its former secretary Prof. Niyi Osundare has come up
> with a damning verdict for the association’ s seeming
> lack of direction and ideas. Prof. Osundare told The
> Guardian recently that ANA was behaving like a political
> party for its seeming lack of focus and unusual reticence in
> national issues.
>
>
>
> He noted that the association had failed totally in
> pursuing the ideals of writers and as conscience of the
> society. ANA, usually noted for its concern for the state of
> the nation, has hardly uttered a word in the recent past to
> make a position statement on issues plaguing the nation.
> Such silence, Osundare said, was not fitting for an
> association usually known for its robustness of ideas.
>
>
>
> Also of concern to the acclaimed poet is the
> association’ s closeness to the powers that-be and the
> monies the association receives from such sources in the
> name of organising convention jamborees. “I don’t
> know when last ANA issued a position paper or a communiquŽ
> on the national situation,” he charged. “And, if
> there’s anytime this kind of stand is necessary, it is
> now! This is extremely important. The political situation in
> our country is dire.
>
>
>
> As I keep on saying, without the political kingdom, there
> will be no place for us to stand and stare. “Our people
> should also know that the reason we are not writing enough,
> the reason we’re not reading enough, then reason we
> don’t have enough books to read is because our politics
> has been badly organised, and our economy is in the
> doldrums.
>
>
>
> “How much of this money is accounted for after each
> annual convention? We used to do this. We had an auditor,
> who would audit and submit reports. ANA is behaving like a
> political party and this is not the original idea of ANA.
> ANA should be a kind of workhouse or factory and repository
> and fountain of ideas. I don’t see many ideas coming out
> apart from the jamboree at the end of every year in Kaduna,
> Owerri, Ibadan, Minna and getting the governors to give the
> keynote address.
>
>
>
> “Whatever is convenient for the governor is convenient
> for us. Even when we lay down a programme and it doesn’t
> suit the governor, we alter it to fit his political agenda.
> This is shameful; this is really not how a writers’
> association should be run.”
>
>
>
> Prof. Osundare repeated the parable, which legendary writer
> Prof. Chinua Achebe gave at the inception of the association
> in the 1980s regarding the role the political class should
> play in the fortunes of the association.
>
>
>
> “I was there since ANA’s inception in the 1980S as
> national secretary, and as Oyo State chapter president.
> I’m not just a writer but I’m a passionate believer
> in ANA just as I’m passionate about ASUU. These are the
> two professional groups in Nigeria that I’m passionate
> about; therefore I should be able to voice my own opinion
> about it.
>
>
>
> “ANA has deviated from many of the ideals that saw it
> into existence in the 1980s. Among its problems is political
> corruption. I’m disturbed at the way governors have
> taken over ANA annual conventions. I remember we discussed
> this kind of thing at length in 1981 and 1983 – what should
> be the relationship of Nigerian writers, through ANA, and
> those in power. Achebe gave the parable of the poet and the
> emperor.
>
>
>
> “He said that the poet should be close enough to the
> emperor to hear his whispers; but he should be far away from
> the emperor so as to escape the claws of power. When ANA
> held its convention at the then University of Ife, we argued
> back and forth whether the governor should be invited. And
> the governor of Oyo State then was Chief Bola Ige, himself
> an excellent writer. But we argued back and forth. In the
> end, we reached a compromise that first as a writer, let him
> come, and he gave the lecture.
>
>
>
> “We used to argue before inviting politicians. We did
> not want politicians to takeover our association. At the end
> of each convention, there were communiquŽs about the state
> of the union, about the state of the country. I used to take
> part in the communiquŽs; in fact there were two
> organisations I was always involved in writing the
> communiquŽs – ASUU and ANA.
>
>
>
> “We would do an analysis of the political and economic
> situation of the country and how it all pertained to
> culture, and criticise and offer suggestions. I don’t
> see such things happening these days. When Chief Olusegun
> Obasanjo was corrupting the political system of this country
> into working for his third term, it took the prodding of
> people from different areas for ANA to offer some kind of
> statement.
>
>
>
> “I did not hear say anything about the rigged
> elections of 2007. I didn’t heard ANA say anything about
> how the election tribunals have been going on. I haven’t
> heard ANA say anything about the situation in Anambra; no!
>
>
>
> (the above is an excerpt)

Filed under: POETRY

One Sunday Morning

author — Sun, 28 Feb 2010 07:59:36 +0000

Awake,
I open my eyes,
staring blankly at the pink wall
outstretched infinitely before me
by my rumpled bed
like a mat on the floor.

I twist and turn
Stretching my sleepy skeletons
like a cock under a morning sun
away from its cage.
My eyes fall on the blue rug
running underneath my bed
and the window blind lets the rays
of the sun throw long shadows across.

I pulled my head back to the pillow
and this time the white ceiling stares back at me like a wide eyes with no pupil

pink wall, blue rug, white ceiling,
all staring at me this Sunday morning,
and my mind stares back with empty spaces inside me -

Life,
like Facebook does,
I ask you only one thing:
What’s on your mind?
Share,
like rays from heaven.

Filed under: POETRY

author — Sun, 28 Feb 2010 07:59:04 +0000

Awake,
I open my eyes,
staring blankly at the pink wall
outstretched infinitely before me
by my rumpled bed
like a mat on the floor.

I pulled my head back to the pillow
and this time the white ceiling stares back at me like a wide eyes with no pupil

pink wall, blue rug, white ceiling,
all staring at me this Sunday morning,
and my mind stares back with empty spaces inside me -

Life,
like Facebook does,
I ask you only one thing:
What’s on your mind?
Share,
like rays from heaven.

Filed under: POETRY

Write poems and Instantly Get Comments!

author — Sun, 28 Feb 2010 03:45:32 +0000

Poetry Graffiti

…the good, the bad and the ugly

Poetry Graffiti… the good, the bad and the ugly!

Poetry Graffiti is a fresh one from me, Senator Ihenyen to all the budding, young, upcoming, fledging and emerging poets out there! I have specially created this page in my webblog as an open avenue where you, especially new Nigerian poets, can publish some of your poems and get feedback as well! You could call Poetry Graffiti a blogzine if you like!

All you need do is scratch your words or paint with words by just posting your poems, once in a while, on my comment board below, just the way a real graffiti works! Yes! Down there on the wall of my blog, and if I really like it, I will publish it in the Graffiti Wall where everyone out there in the street can see it!

You know I love it when it’s short and concise, sensational, shocking and excitingly rich! Just like a graffiti! However, if it’s too long, it will be cleaned off the wall. And if it is too dangerous to the health of good poetry (if I consider it a poor work), it will be sent to the cleaners by the Police – i.e. you will get a brutal and harsh comment which will be published beneath your poem for the public to see! So I encourage you to scratch down good poetry, not bad works that will attract deserving feedbacks, if not from the reading public, straight from me. Start scratching those words now, and possibly get comments from other writers and readers who get to come around my alley in this corner of the world!

Of course, for scratching words on a wall open to the public, I’ll call the Police! Don’t be scared, it is only in my alley you get to meet the Police that is truly your friend because in my alley the Police means the feedback you have secured for yourself for doing graffiti on my wall! Yes, I am going to be giving you feedbacks on any graffiti you scratch on my wall! But beware, such feedbacks, good, bad or ugly, will be published in the public for everyone to see! Apart from getting the Police response, you can even get to know one or two things about poets and poetry and all of that stuff at The Literary Ladder!

So what are you waiting for? Start scratching on those walls down there now! Remember, always do it craftily because the Police is around the corner!

Filed under: POETRY

Your Indelible Footprints (dedicated to Foot, my late editor)

author — Sun, 28 Feb 2010 03:29:49 +0000

The poem below is dedicated to Okey (Foot) Okpa, my late editor and would-be publisher at Coast2Coast, who passed away on Christmas day in 2008. My heartfelt condolences to his lovely family and friends, including Odili Ujubuonu, his first author.

Your Indelible Footprints (to late Okey Foot Okpa)

Tell me, Foot
Tell me why your red-inked footprints
are everywhere on my manuscript
gleaming in my heart,
But none, Foot,
none in this poem
This poem that gives you life?

As colourless as the rainbow
we were searching for
before you left your footprints behind on my manuscript,
like red petals on eternal whiteness.

Your footprints are indelible
not just on the sands of time,
nor on this wet-earth you left behind for my feeble feet,
But on these lines you left behind.

My heart is heavy,
not with the faltering fullness of tears,
but with the brimming emptiness of these words
I’ve had to squeze from the harrowed heart of the mourning muse.

Tell me, Foot, tell me
why your red-inked footprints are everywhere
on my manuscript,
gleaming in my heart,
But none, Foot, none in this poem
that gives you life?

Senator Ihenyen

Visit Foot’s online memorial here

Filed under: POETRY