Ode to Senator Ihenyen by Emeke Nwaoboli

This is a poem titled “Ode to Senator Ihenyen“. Written by Emeke Nwaoboli, a young and budding Nigerian writer and friend, he was moved to appreciate my “kind gestures“ towards his writing craft with a poem. He also happens to be an active member of Golden Minds Nigeria, the youth development organisation in which I currently serve as Project Manager.

Since today is World Poetry Day, I believe there is no better time to publish this piece!

Thanks, Emeke Nwaoboli. I‘m most flattered. Very grateful for this kind effort!

Emeke Nwaoboli‘s blog: http://www.emekenwaoboli.wordpress.com

Ode to Senator Ihenyen

My hands are itching,
Itching to write about great men.
Great men like Senator Ihenyen,
The new Nigerian poet and writer,
Author of Colourless Rainbow;
The emerging voice in new Nigerian poetry.
Fighting against AIDS with his poems,
Standing like a Defender against the swooping swords of oppression.
An advocate in his wig and gown,
The voiceless has found his voice.
Even his smile can mend broken hearts,
The ink of his pen splash songs of freedom.
I am proud to announce his name,
I rejoice
For he has inspired me.
My ink will continue to paint his glory,
On every soul that is downtrodden.
Remain the great Senator!
With the paintbrush of your imaginations,
Make the colourless rainbow colourful.

(c)Emeke Nwaoboli 2013


Tell Us, a poem (Nigeria’s Independence Day)

Peter Irabor, an old fan of my poetry who wrote the very first review on my book Colourless Rainbow, when it was still unpublished contacted me two days ago! He specially asked that in the spirit of Nigeria’s 52nd Independence Day Anniversary on October 1, I should repost “Tell Us”, one of the poems from my collection!

Well, here is an author’s grant of a wonderful fan’s wish. I hope you will all read and give me some feedback, will you? Thanks!

Tell Us

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
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