#FloetryByJulietKego: Warmth

Open up,
let me crawl
into the crevices
of your soul’s linnings

Gift me your warmth
from the fiery embers
of your sated spirit
a cold, cold world out there
sit with me in silence
cure my chattering
be ye a safe shelter
to my shattering storms

How you ahhmaze!
like a Rembrandt painting
found in a Salvation Army
(Okirika) thriftstore
today be the maze
let me lose my lies
and bury my cries
inside your solid walls

Turn on your inner light
illuminate my pathway
hold up life’s mirrors
and let me find my truth

(C) Juliet ‘Kego

Floetry by JulietKego: Ha! Your Laughter

Ha
Dear Lord!
(A pause, a pun, an exclamation)…
I hear traces of thunder
In your laughter
And one day, I will write
Your laughter into words
Capture how your larynx opens
Like an unfolding petal to my sun
How your throat swallows up my air
As it convulses in mirth,
And on your cheeks
Unformed dipped-in dimples
Struggle not to cheekily crinkle
As hot and cold air whooshes out,
Condensing into droplets
Washing my body-soul-spirit
Like vibrating rivulets of rains
And I become Earth’s wet centre;
A pulsating core of the universe.

#FloetryByJulietKego: A Night Out With The King.

An invitation to dine with the King?
With wonder we all fall on bended knees.
Here all that is of darkness flees
Bring out the box with a baguette diamond ring
We shall adorn ourselves to enter his holy place
Do we put on precious pearls and silken lace?
Do we bath ourselves in red rubies of fires?
Or in our stunning, sparkling sapphires?
Do we come with heavy hearts, bare and open?
With sealed souls now ready to heal and awaken?

#FloetryByJulietKego: A Breakfast of Poems

I woke up today
with a sweet-tangy taste
of your praise-poetry
on my tongue

For breakfast, I served
woven words, crunchy
like a waffle basket
with drops of honeyed
syrup soaked in

I inhaled and released
wispy fragrances
of sweaty spent stories
that escaped our bodies
I am woke in you

(C) Juliet ‘Kego

#FloetrybyJulietKego: A Bouquet of Poems

Today,
I found a bouquet of Earth’s 7 poems
resting on my doorsteps
one for each layer of creation….

The air in Judea came alive
with perfumes of your poems
a hint of humble hibiscus,
giving, gazing gardenias,
wise, impish izoras,
thorny, red roses
fun, flirty lilies,
a wisp of zany zinnias,
and a lone, shy, smiling sunflower,
all laced up in a vase,
filled with the aromas
of your presence, Yeshua
I am Elizabeth,
John danced in joy in my womb
when you came visiting

#Poetry4Change: Who Shall We Tell of the Coming Hell? By Mina | @MinaStones

Fallen soldiers
Distant warriors
Universe change
What will remain

Hovering about
Putting candles out
An unseen beast
In our streets

Whispers surround
Despair abounds
Who shall we tell
Of the coming hell?

Prayers sail
Familiar waves
Hope still lives
As silence speaks

Calm to soul
Young and old
Patiently wait
Tomorrow a day

© Mina | 2020

#FloetryByJulietKego: Who are you walking with?

Who are you walking with?

Walk with someone whose memory

brings a shy smile to your lips (when they’re away)

One who makes you walk into a room

like you have an invisible crown on your head

who centres your gypsy spirit

who soothes your soul in any storm

one who makes you matter.

__________

Walk with one who celebrates you
who creates a waterfall deep in your being
(during a drought)

who makes you dance
even when an orchestra stops playing

who riles you yet makes forgiving so easy

be with the one who kisses you

with the sun’s golden rays

till you disappear into time

__________

Who holds your hands in a crowd

who heals your torn & worn out heart

be with the one who sees you without the lie

of a deformed world

one who gives you a sacred space

to be human, to stumble & rise

allows you room to embrace & gain mastery

over your shadows and bask in your light

__________

#FloetryByJulietKego: A Gypsy Birth And Home-coming

I met a gypsy in the fields
a maker of mind-magic
with flowing, tangled locks
to her orbit mortals flocked

to whispering winds
her maxi-skirt twirled
to thundering clouds
her heartbeats echoed

we traded places
she, now rooted here
hearth; a home I soon forgot
as I cut off my umbilical cord

I am become a wistful one
a wonderer’s wanderer;
a warrior and water-walker
I, – a barefoot belly-dancer

#FloetryByJulietKego: Wings of Words

 

 

 

 

Travel with me
on winged-planes of poetry
come walk with me, beloved
– barefoot, on a restless red earth
with sands, hot and fine
– longing for a feel
of travel-lust laden feet
surrounded by scents
of cool and crispy pine
open up; drink my wine
sit on our seat of stillness
let’s co-create an alchemy;
bear witness and prophesy
with sacred sounds of silence,
obim utter nothing, aye, no kpim
let’s ride this wave, on wings of words―JK

 © Juliet ‘Kego

#FloetryByJulietKego: Sautéing sorrow; drinking in dreams

Glass in hand, a pint of this and that
we pause to remember and celebrate
the ones who sauté the storms that sizzle
brave ones who make us linger over lush aromas
the clanging of crockery; loud clunking of pots and pans
ahhh! flavours floating up our being and all around the home

Excited chatter of young and old voices
sly and naughty peeks into the many pots
still cooking on the stove; tasting a sauce here
some sprinkles of spice there
oh! a little dash of ose Nsukka too
a piece of tender meat
a still-warm piece of bread
rising from fondled fresh batter, set it in an oven

Beautiful cacophony of colours
of mixed vegetables and nuts and fruits
a splendour to the sight, a tease to the senses
the aroma of the juices from turkey, chicken, lamb
goat meat and succulent sirloin beef
bare hands marinading and infusing
the heart-herbs and soul-spices slowly

An epiphany – everything tastes like a miracle
even when life is far from wonderful
because we know this; memories of all
whom you love and have loved
sieve into these spices of life
hmmn, we hold each in your heart
as we pour in broth, oil and waters
aye, into each bowl, each pot, each pan

It is not merely cooking
this, is an adventure into culture, history, life
this, is a feast of love, of thanks, a dance of the harvest
a celebration of the earth and heavens
of stars and the beings orbiting and inhabiting it
food is but a medium, a language, a pathway to us

In the end, we seize the day
and capture a moment of magic
where we all pause to say:
LOVE is the sustenance
family and friends, the reason for being
and ‘neath the moon, is where we share
secrets and familiar stories
connected to the source of it all
-aye, a thanksgiving!

Your were here sir, ma’am, brother, sister
and through your eyes and journeys
we commune through a seance of senses
with loved ones, here,
and those like you, gone there,
we got a chance to dance
with spirits, angels, fairies, gods
and most of all, we got to simply be…human

A salute to you! Those who show us
the wow! wonder of ordinary days
entrenching themselves in us, opening
our consciousness to see and be extraordinary
to celebrate our ALIVENESS
We are here! We are alive! We are thankful;

for the food of love
all different flavours & colours of it
here, where we sauté sorrow; drink in dreams

Live in love; rest in peace, AMEN

(c) Juliet ‘Kego

#FloetryByJulietKego | For Leah Sharibu – A Happy Birthday?

For daughters – Alice Ngaddah, Chibok Girls and Leah Sharibu…LEAH – A Happy Birthday?

They’ll be back, Papa
Aye Mama..

Beaded words
strung into secrets shloka
hang ’em like pāda
a dua verse, a psalm, a song,
an ululation, a chant, a canticle,
a poem; a sombre sonnet for their safety..

A prayer for sisters;
a song for our daughtersJK

 © Juliet ‘Kego

Drowning Dreams…

 

We were there
when she folded her dreams
and laid them neatly
in a metal box
(between layers of rocky, pain-pebbles)..

She shut down the lid
with a force of finality
and put it down, soft-like
by the river bank;
– her dreams, her heart, her soul.

We stood with her
as the box sank to sleep
at the river bed
and wordlessly, we walked her back,
a half-being, to a half-life…

(c) Juliet ‘Kego

In My Father’s Robe (Remembrances of a Beloved Father…) by Juliet ‘Kego

On December 5, 2010, a part of me died (and rose again), more alive than ever. My father transformed from this formed plane of earthly existence to the formless beauty of the heavens…

A day before that, I had launched an organization I co-founded with a friend.

More than anyone on the planet, he knew why this was an important new path for me to walk. I knew I had his unwavering support. During his burial, I had to wear his chieftaincy robe and carry his customized fan. The honour! I really do love certain parts of our culture (not the oppressive, patriarchal, limiting parts…Yes, I said it! Lol)❤

Random Musings: Happy Thanksgiving!

‪#‎FindingTheEXTRAORDINARYinTheOrdinary‬ There’s something magical about thanksgiving, in particular cooking for beloved family and friends. All the clanging of crockery, the loud clunking of pots and pans. The spices floating up our senses and all around the home.

The excited chatter of young and old voices, the sly and naughty peeks into the many pots, still cooking on the stove; tasting a sauce here, a piece of meat there, a still-warm piece of bread, fresh out of the oven.

#FloetrybyJulietKego: GATED HEAVENS

Gated Heavens

We shall meet there at heaven’s gate
Where a cross makes new life for the late
And a molten grace dissolves despair
Spring of love flows through walls of fear
Tingly laughter drowns our choking cries
Truth whispers; she buries weighted lies

Aye, then, as our faith takes root
Beloved, away we go, to take a tour
On a laughter-lit, narrow angels’ route
Darkness & demons make a detour
Far from us, at the cross-road junction
To us shall flow the holy unction

And after a winter’s chill of shrivelled leaves
Spring peeks shyly; in death (s)he lives…

 ©  Juliet ‘Kego

#FloetrybyJulietKego – UNBREAKABLE

#WomensHistoryMonth ‘I love to see a young girl go out and grab the world by the lapels. Life’s a bitch. You’ve got to go out and kick ass.’ ~Maya Angelou

2017: New Management, New Directions!

I can’t believe 2017 is almost at our shores! 2016 was a kaleidoscope of so many different developmental strides, events, collaborations, loss, deaths, re-births, challenges and triumphs. Ultimately, if there was a word to describe 2016 for my team and I, it would be ADVOCACY.

We finally wrapped a couple of advocacy cases in different sectors and embarked on some foundational reforms around sexual abuse in two tertiary institutions.

For 2017, my focus is geared towards social enterprise (specifically, economic empowerment); creating sustainable opportunities for young creatives (through the POETRY4Change platform, in collaboration with Praxis Magazine Online); developing structured mentorship spaces, angel investing synergies and micro-lending platforms for youth in different streams of the social enterprise value chain.

#FloetrybyJulietKego: Collecting Dust…

“One day you will ask me which is more important? My life or yours? I will say mine and you will walk away not knowing that you are my life.” – Kahlil Gibran

Collecting Dust…

You are a special story-book
I shall never grow tired of reading
yet must somehow put down
on a console in my basement

#PoetryMasterClass: “My Lord, Tell Me Where To Keep Your Bribe?” By Niyi Osundare

[Originally published on Sahara Reporters on Oct 26, 2016 and culled from saharareporters.com]

A poem by the renowned Nigerian poet Niyi Osundare.

My Lord

   Please tell me where to keep your bribe?

Do I drop it in your venerable chambers

Or carry the heavy booty to your immaculate mansion

126. Floetry by JulietKego: A Perfect Kiss […with the universe]

I often think that there’s a sacred time when dusk kisses dawn. When the world sleeps and our higher selves awaken; open to downloading epiphanies from the still, quiet, sacred voice within. And sometimes, if we are truly present, we experience the fullness of being-ness as we wake up into the arms of the universe.

Into the arms of a loving Creator. Our souls stir, our spirits sing, our hearts stop in stunned silence, as we witness the heaven kiss the earth, in what must be an ancient, age-long tradition.

Poetry Masterclass – Rabindranath Tagore: Unending Love

“Clouds come floating into my life, no longer to carry rain or usher storm, but to add color to my sunset sky.”
― Rabindranath Tagore, Stray Birds
Poem:“Unending Love” by Rabindranath Tagore

I seem to have loved you in numberless forms, numberless times…
In life after life, in age after age, forever.
My spellbound heart has made and remade the necklace of songs,
That you take as a gift, wear round your neck in your many forms,
In life after life, in age after age, forever.Whenever I hear old chronicles of love, it’s age-old pain,
It’s ancient tale of being apart or together.
As I stare on and on into the past, in the end you emerge,
Clad in the light of a pole-star, piercing the darkness of time.
You become an image of what is remembered forever.

You and I have floated here on the stream that brings from the fount.
At the heart of time, love of one for another.
We have played along side millions of lovers,
Shared in the same shy sweetness of meeting,
the distressful tears of farewell,
Old love but in shapes that renew and renew forever.

Today it is heaped at your feet, it has found its end in you
The love of all man’s days both past and forever:
Universal joy, universal sorrow, universal life.
The memories of all loves merging with this one love of ours –
And the songs of every poet past and forever.”

Rabindranath Tagore, Selected Poems

#RandomMusingsbyJK: ‪‎Life Lessons at Tea Time‬

‪#‎LifeLessonsAtTeaTime‬ Not everybody will be your cup of tea, just as it’ll be silly to think you can be everybody’s cup of tea. Focus on the tea you love, quit forcing yourself to casually taste (and even drink) all the other teas.

And do not serve or sell your brand of tea to everyone. Seek the ones who naturally love your flavour (or have over time, acquired a good taste for your tea). In fact, it is necessary to point out that not everyone actually likes tea! Don’t take it personal. Allow people the right to their choices, okay?

Plus, know when to serve it hot, lukewarm or iced. For those moments in life when you’re forced to have teas you can’t honestly stand, simply say NO or sip very, very slowly (or add lots of sugar, close your eyes and gulp the darn thing swiftly, the caveat is of course, over time the sugar may be very bad for your health).

However, the sooner you learn to say NO, YOU’ll encounter less of those unsavoury tea-time episodes…Develop the habit of saying yes or no from an authentic space. Clarity about your boundaries attract who and what you want into your spaces. Ambiguity messes up the resonance of your vibrational frequency and simultaneously brings in both gems and craps into your energetic field.  Lol 🙂 ~ @JulietKego

Happy Father’s Day: In My Father’s Robe (Remembrances of a Beloved Father…)

On December 5, 2010, a part of me died and rose again, more alive than ever. My father transformed from this formed plane of earthly existence to the formless beauty of the heavens…A day before that, I had launched an organization I co-founded with a friend.

More than anyone on the planet, he knew why this was an important new path for me to walk. I knew I had his unwavering support. During his burial, I had to wear his chieftaincy robe and carry his customized fan. The honour! I really do love certain parts of our culture (not the oppressive, patriarchal, limiting parts…Lol)❤

#125. Floetry by JulietKego: Maina’s Message for Mama

RT: @ObyEzeks “OUR #ChibokGirlAminaAli of Mbalala village IS BACK!!!!!!! #218ShallBeBack because #HopeEndures” – Twitter, May 18, 2016

 Maina’s Message for Mama

I am a little girl lost,

from Chibok.

I am the core

stench of my nation’s

festering,

rotten sore.

Ever since that night,

I dream of my mama

In dreams that I dream

of the dreams

that I dream,

#123. Floetry by JulietKego: A Grave Conversation

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Grave Conversation

Do not come to my graveside,

weeping in whispers

afraid he will hear

I am with you child, in every breath

Adanneya, Adannaya

#NaPoWriMo2016. Day 27 of 30 | Floetry by JulietKego: When I die…

 

When I die

In Zaria-Delta-Agatu
Akure-Oyo-Edo-Taraba
Chibok-Buni Yadi-Baga
Jos-Nassarawa-Enugu

Do not bury me there
beneath the red Earth
Where the scent of fear,
despair and lost hope flirt

Biko nu burn my body
as a peace offering on leaves;
for Afonja and his 80 thieves
feed the marrows of my bones
to our nation’s gathered assembly
of corrupt charlatans and clones

Sprinkle my ashes to cleanse
defiled rivers of my hometown
pour out my blood with incense
to quench the thirst of they who
wear the ruling crown

Offer my heart to the huntsmen
and the herdsmen
in a fair exchange;
-so that the bloody trails of tears
be transformed back into laughter
-that the blood of my children
may cease to spill
-that this ravaged heart hears
songs of peace and may finally heal

when I die
do not trap me
beneath Lugard’s land of lie
Set me free
to roam my homeland’s coasts
one of many, many lost ghosts…

(C) Juliet ‘Kego Ume-Onyido

#NaPoWriMo2016 | Day 21of 30. For a Prince (Rest in Peace: 1958 – 2016)

“An original is hard to find but easy to recognize.”
~John Mason

For a Prince.

Today, the sun-clouds reign
Draped in purple splendour
Of pearly-shaped diamond stars
A prince sleeps and rests on
Beyond the firmament
Where doves fly.
(C) Juliet ‘Kego Ume-Onyido

“PRINCE; followed by many, follower of no one. Pretty much sums it up.” ~Angela Fritz

#NaPoWriMo2016 | Day 18 of 30. A short story by Juliet Kego – “An Omelette For Two.”

I’m not sharing poetry today, rather a piece of prose I wrote a while back to celebrate the beauty of love and loss…Enjoy!

A short story: An Omelette For Two.

Mama, Hajia and your little cousin Zain came by yesterday. They said I looked very skinny, sunken eyes and all bones. I don’t want them to worry so. Or move in here and crowd our space. My night cries need no audience. It’s the one time I get to spend with you. With the world dead and oh-so-whispery quiet. And I curl into an oval ball in the middle of our room. A perfect spot for my tears to sing wordless songs that I know only you would understand.

So I got up early today, I made an omelette the way you like them. The way you’d taught me. Over the phone. Our last conversation before you got on the flight home. I’d promised you a hot breakfast in bed. You’d requested that I’d serve it with only a scarf around my neck. You said you found a perfect scarf in the duty-free store. Ah, you are my crazy, crazy heart…

#NaPoWriMo2016 | Day 9 of 30. Verses by JulietKego: EXPLOSION

EXPLOSION

When they drop a bomb
in Kandahar,
some splintered shells
touch down in Paris,
fragmented coils
travel to Damascus,
a live lug finds a way
to my backyards in
-Baga
-Taraba
-Agatu
-Enugu…
And then,
it detonates
inside all of us….

‪#‎AllLivesMatter‬

#NaPoWriMo2016 | Day 10 of 30. May I feel? By E. E. Cummings (Read by Tome Hiddleston)

 

So I was too lazy  🙂 decided not to write a poem today and so instead, I spent about an hour listening to sublime poetry readings by the talented Tom Hiddleston. Okay, if you know me well enough, you’d know by now that my #1 pick to read poetry in the whole universe is Mr. Hiddleston. Then, of course there’s Amitabh Bachchan and also Morgan Freeman. Some people have the voice of the gods, period!

Enjoy this sassy and naughty little poem by E. E. Cummings: MAY I FEEL?

Listen to the Audio version as read by Tom Hiddleston:

May I feel said he
(I’ll squeal said she
Just once said he)

#NaPoWriMo2016 | Day 8 of 30. Verses by JulietKego: Panama Palava

Verses by JulietKego: Panama Palava

Fair strangers

balkanized

our soul (or so tried)

and our sons;

brothers from our clan

knurled and minced
our muscled hearts

then drank up the blood

that flowed to give us life

fair and dark,

we cannot tell them apart

both raped our valleys

and pillaged our earths.

 

(C) Juliet Kego Ume-Onyido

#NaPoWriMo2016 | Day 7 of 30. Verses by JulietKego: Rotten

Verses by JulietKego:

His heavens farted
Clouds parted, acid rains
poured; her crops died.

(C) Juliet ‘Kego Ume-Onyido

 

#RandomMusings: Social Media Vacation, Tanking Economy and Finding Joy in Between…

Every once in a while I take a social media retreat. I reboot my social media platforms and start all over from the scratch to rebuild both my friends’ list and content. This period qualifies as one of my ‘once in a while.’ (Connect with me via email, phone, messenger etc.)

There’s a lot of economic hardship all over the land, and often this means more people flock to social media to escape the grind of reality. And it is easy for everyone to start pointing fingers, but that never solved anything. Please, be gentle with and empathetic towards people, most are dealing with different stressors, it just shows up join different ways. Be kind to yourself too. Both in the real and cyber-worlds.

#NaPoWriMo2016 | Day 6 of 30. Write a Poem about Food

Rather than write a poem, I choose to share a piece of prose about food. The very art and science of planting, nurturing, harvesting, preparing, cooking and eating food has always fascinated me. I’m an avid foodie and love to taste and connect with different cultures in the seductive tongues of their spices, grains, vegetables, fruits, meats, etc.

[The piece below was previously published for thanksgiving celebrations in Oct 2015].

There’s something magical about cooking for beloved family and friends. All the clanging of crockery, the loud clunking of pots and pans. The spices floating up our senses and all around the home.

The excited chatter of young and old voices, the sly and naughty peeks into the many pots, still cooking on the stove; tasting a sauce here, a piece of meat there, a still-warm piece of bread, fresh out of the oven.

The beautiful colours of mixed vegetables and herbs and fruits, a splendour to the sight, the aroma of the juices from turkey and chicken and goat meat and sirloin beef…bare hands marinading and infusing the herbs and spices.

And that moment, you realize everything will taste wonderful, not because of the spices but because you hold each person in your heart and you pour in oil and waters of love into each bowl, ech pot, each pan. This is not merely cooking. This is a feast of love, of thanks, a dance of the harvest…

A celebration of the Earth and the Heavens and the stars and the beings orbiting and inhabiting it. Food becomes the medium of love.

In the end, it simply is an opportunity to capture a moment of magic, where we all pause to say: LOVE is the sustenance, family and friends are the reason for being, and GOD is the source of it all. And how blessed are we to be connected to him!

So today, as I get lost in the magic of cooking and cleaning, I celebrate my ALIVENESS. We are here. We are alive. We are thankful. I am grateful for love, all the different flavours and colours of it, even when it doesn’t make sense.

And I am thankful for the chance we all get to dance with angels and gods. Love illuminates. Entrenches itself in us and opens us up to really see life and be extraordinary. Celebrating and thanking God for these inexplicable gifts…..

Now, someone please pass me the salt, let’s cook up a storm of love! ~ Cyber-hugs, ❤ Jules

(C) Juliet ‘Kego Ume-Onyido

———————————

And now, our (optional) prompt! Today, I challenge you to write a poem about food. This could be a poem about a particular food, or about your relationship to food in general. Or it could simply be a poem relating an incident that involves food, like David Ignatow’s “The Bagel”. Still not convinced? Perhaps these thirteen food poems will give you some inspiration. Happy writing!

#NaPoWriMo2016 | Day 5 of 30. #125. Floetry by JulietKego: Her Tomatoes

Sometimes, a toto tomato
is not a flaming reddish hue
because she is ripe
and ready for plucking…
Sometimes, she’s bleeding
from the inside
and it stains her life;
bruises her skin…

Her colours change
(like weathered ivory or fish
split open and bared,
punished by uncaring sons suns)

Her seeds darken
because of all the hungry,
dirty, harsh hands
that ywanked at her;
squeezed,
pricked, pierced
and fondled her,
into a forced,
rude ripening
of a dead awakening…

(C) Juliet ‘Kego Ume-Onyido

 

And now, our (optional, as always) daily prompt! April is a time for planting things (at least where I am, in Washington DC – you may still be waiting for spring, or well into some other season!) At any rate, I’ve recently been paging through seed catalogs, many of which feature “heirloom” seeds with fabulous names. Consider the “Old Ivory Egg” tomato, the “Ozark Razorback” or “Fast Lady” cow-pea, “Neal’s Paymaster” dent corn, or the “Tongues of Fire” bush bean. Today, I challenge you to spend some time looking at the names of heirloom plants, and write a poem that takes its inspiration from, or incorporates the name of, one or more of these garden rarities. To help you out, here are links to the Southern Exposure Seed Exchange and the Baker Creek Seed Company. Also, here’s a hint – tomatoes seem to be prime territory for elaborate names. And who knows, maybe you’ll even find something to plant in your garden! Happy writing!

#NaPoWriMo. Day 4 of 30 |#124. Floetry by JulietKego: Heart break (…in slow motion)

Floetry by JulietKego:

#124. Heatbreak…. in slow motion.

Alone in April,
On a fool’s day
As spring ushers in
cold memories of winter
My hands reach for a decanter
my colourless brandy’s gone
And so are the whites

#NaPoWriMo. Day 3 of 30| #123. Floetry by JulietKego: Wild Heart; Gypsy Soul

#NaPoWriMo Day 3

Floetry by JulietKego:
Wild Heart; Gypsy Soul

You will find her heart
in fierce, gentle strokes
of her vivid and shy art..

#122. Floetry by JulietKego – Sons and Daughters of Okigbo

#NaPoWriMo Day 2

[This is not a poem; it is Floetry inspired by true events].

At Okigbo’s shrine
seeds of his loins gathered
and called out to him:

 

“Nna anyi! Nna anyi!
Ifekandu, hear us.
Biko nu, mere anyi Ebele.
Do not look away.
Mbah nu.
Your son is desecrating
the waters
The priestesses find his semen
in the holiest of rivers
His seeds scattered
across the land
(lost in the fields of shame)
Does he not know
they each carry his gifts?
That we must find them
to raise them?
Alu na eme n’obodo anyi”

#117. Floetry by JulietKego: HEAVEN’S GATE

 

Floetry by JulietKego:
HEAVEN’S GATE

Let’s take a tour
on angels’ route
as faith takes root
demons make a detour
at the crossroads junction
where the holy unction
releases waters and oils

Hold your cynicism
at the holy exorcism
of the hellhound’s foils
there, at heavens’ gate
witness a reversal of fate
for fair Lucifer’s lair
won’t get a lock of hair

And sinner’s souls’ shell
burnt in their pits of hell
as offering to a dead Baal
the once lost possessed
now repossessed

By a ghost’s holy light,
won on a cross by his fight
at the trumpets, knees shall
bow, tongues sing alleluia
at the divine mercy of Jehovah.

(C) Juliet ‘Kego Ume-Onyido

#PoetryMasterclass – Chinua Achebe: For the love of Poetry

#LostInAchebe ‪#‎NPM16‬ ‪#‎CelebratingPoetry‬ He is known as one of Africa’s most celebrated prose writers and yet POETRY was Chinua Achebe’s first love.

I stumbled upon this website (www.brainpickings.org) and had a feast on Achebe’s poetry. In particular, his poem “Remembrance Day” struck a deep chord.

Come June 4th, I’ll be part of a team organizing the Annual Biafran Memorial Day Event in Toronto. Achebe’s reminder of what an honourable remembrance day celebration should be to all Igbos is both timely and necessary.

 

“We called him:

visionary,

missionary,

revolutionary

and, you know, all the other naries

that plague the peace…”

~ Chinua Achebe [From his poem: “We Laughed at Him”]

 

[The audio source: Soundcloud account of http://www.brainpickings.org]

#120. Floetry by JulietKego: WAITING FOR A KING

Floetry by JulietKego: WAITING FOR A KING

[For beloved Anna, the daughter of Penuel, of the tribe of Asher].

Passion and pain.
Love and heartbreak.
Sunny skies and rain.
Kpangolo and gold.
Broken and then whole.
My life traded and sold.
The longing on your face,
etched in linings of my soul,
all of time cannot erase.
Streaks of tears, more tears.
I find you, seven years of joy
and in the same breath,
I weep with the loss
of letting you go
Bereft. Widowed.

 

Steeped in stirrings
that shamelessly show
as stains of pooled heat
in damp, hidden grooves
Burning and then cold
I cannot touch myself.
I live untouched.
In the centre of my life
a gaping, gasping hole
The seasons roll
one to the other.
And now, I am old.
Seven by twelve seasons;
Eighty-four years old.
Pray. Fast. Offer. Wait;
Waiting and longing.
Till one day, I behold him
in the temple and I live again.
Aye, this love, beloved Isa,
the passion and pain
via dolorosa;
’tis the way of our cross…

(C) Juliet ‘Kego Ume-Onyido

#116. Floetry by JulietKego: BE A MAN; because boys don’t cry?

BE A MAN; Because boys don’t cry?

‪#‎ThisIsNotAPoem‬

A broken mantra-hymn
Chant it, feed it to him
Command him
To be a manned-robot:
“Be ye Strong,
Son, you can do no wrong
Mask your heart sore
Be soul-less, Ego-more
Like an erection
Be all cold and hard
Screw up your balls
With nuts of macho steel
Choke on that man-pride
Fears are alien; so them hide
Swallow, piss out tears un-cried
Be a man; who says boys cry too
Or have their hearts broken in two?”

 

Yes sisters, on golden pedestals
Raise him up high like Baal, your King
Build a burn-fire, form a worship ring
Disrobe of your common sense
At his feet open up your petals
Pour your fluids laced with incense
Bind him to breasts; shackled, seduced
And when the suns of your sin melt
His faux gold-covered shield, pelt
Him with curses, as he is reduced
To the lost boy you fed a poisoned lie:
“Be ye Strong,
Son, do no wrong
To be vulnerable is weak..”

And now behold your god of man,
all broken up and sick!

 

(C) Juliet ‘Kego Ume-Onyido

#115. Floetry by JulietKego: Shattering The Silence

Shattering the silence; For R.
‪#‎ThisIsNotAPoem‬

The glass case splintered
And I thought her heart
Would break apart
Into nothingness
From the clawing
Lugubrious loneliness
I was here, there
And I was afraid
Of the quaking raid
I did not show my fear
It was a lump of brick
Choking me
Like a forced prick
Just before my throat
Raping my mouth; Killing me

#RandomMusings by JulietKego: On Jim Nwobodo, cross-carpeting and the failure in leadership.

Candidates For Psychiatric Evaluation ‪#‎MakeRoomInAROMentalFacility‬

‪#‎OurLeadersHaveGoneStarkRavingMad‬!!Jim Nwobodo was recently named by embattled former National Security Adviser (NSA) Col. Sambo Dasuki (rtd) among those who benefited from the multi-billion naira Armsgate fraud, currently being investigated by the Economic and Financial Crimes Commission (EFCC).
The former Governor denied any wrongdoing, saying that the N500 million released to him by the NSA was meant for PDP leaders in the South-East to mobilize support for the re-election of Goodluck Jonathan as President in the 2015 election.

“I am not looking for a job. I am talking because I want peace. I want our people to be part of the Federal Government at the centre. I had a problem being an opposition Governor. I am not coming into APC because I want anything. I want our people to reintegrate and have our own share of the Federal Government resources.” ~ Jim Nwobodo [Source: Today.ng]

I don’t know whether to weep or laugh hysterically! I’m totally flabbergasted. O gini di ife a?? What levels of DENIAL and DELUSION are these folks operating under? What crazy alchemy is let loose in the synaptic gaps of their cells? How messed up are their neurotransmitters? I was waiting for some core ideological shifts, a value construct or belief system that propelled this move and we get this inane dribble? Are you kidding me? Hear, hear him: ‘I want our people to reintegrate and have our own share of the Federal Government resources…” So this is all about getting a share of juicy mangoes and yams?

These are the words of a 75-year old man! A former Governor AND Senator of the federal Republic. A founding member of PDP. I am outraged that this joke of a human being shames Ndi Igbo, and in fact ALL well-meaning Nigerians, by using the ‘OUR PEOPLE…REINTEGRATE…SHARE OF THE FEDERAL GOVT RESOURCES’ sickening lines!! 500 million squandered on ‘South East Leaders!’ May we please know the names of all these greedy sickos who’ve held us down for ages?

These are the men/women 30,000 Biafra Agitators should really be attacking and demonstrating against. I do not want to wish anyone evil, so I’ll hold my tongue! 500 Million of our national wealth shared among fools and charlatans in a zone with bad roads, poor water supply, out-of-kids- school, poor health infrastructure, ill-equipped/poorly trained teachers, imagine if that was used for a micro collaborative technology hub for Youths in Enugu ….

Ah my beloved, battered Naija! We must have a wall of shame to call out these folks!! Mr Jim Nwobodo, sir, with all due respect, as an Igbo lady, you do not in anyway speak for me or represent me. Not at all!!

I appreciate that he handed over power peacefully, he may even be a good man but in my opinion (and I may be wrong), GEJ was a weak, corrupt and misguided leader, with zero creativity. Just like almost all the leaders before him. That’s exactly why we are where we are today. How can you simply spend money to buy votes when all you had to do was actually plough those funds in developmental projects and leave a worthy legacy?? I don’t get the logic at all!!

Did he not read up about Awolowo, Michael Okpara, et al? A first-time South-South leader! He had a chance to transform that zone into the envy of the world and couldn’t even clean up Ogoniland! Chinua Achebe got it right: “The problem with Nigeria is simply a failure of leadership.” The caveat of course, is that we are all leaders! #APrayer4NigeriaInDistress

Cyber-hugs,
Juliet ‘Kego Ume-Onyido
(You may also find me here: http://www.wholewomannetwork.org)

#68. Floetry by JulietKego: If I Die Again… (Destination: France and not Baga)!

 

Two, Two hundred or Two thousand?
We debate numbers, carelessly offhand.
In an orgy of violence, in this desolate land,
while children are slaughtered like salah rams

In numbers to rival Bar beach grains of sand
and the zoo masters feed off goats and yams
So if I must die, and die, one day I must
I fear not, either a svelte bomb or a crude dagger

I ask for this one wish; honour my plea in trust
Let me die in far away Paris, not here in Baga
Here sons, now enemies; Boko Haramites
multiply like an army of fornicating termites

Take me there, far, far away from here.
For here, many the toga of terrorists bear
it is becoming so very hazy for me to really tell
between Dasukis and his many master-devils

A case of who is evil and who is purely evil?
All parties sullied, to darkness their souls did sell
Here, they piss, shit and spit on my grave
In this town I am ignored, cruelly scorned

Take me to France, lay me under Eiffel’s cave
Where I shall be honoured and mourned
by one million souls who’ll remember my face
CNN will call my name from sea to sea

Even old Fox will fold me in her cold embrace
while Dokpesi and NTA air Liverpool-Chelsea
matches and owambes; political parties’ campaign
And drink of my blood mixed with fine champagne

And on my grave they gladly, gleefully dance
Hapless, to deaf ears may I not plaintively cry
for between cowardice and cluelessness, I die
If I die, do not bury me in baga,
take me far, far away from Naija….

© Juliet ‘Kego Ume-Onyido (All rights reserved).

119. Floetry by JulietKego: Knurling My Heart

 

(C) Juliet Kego Ume-Onyido

#55. Floetry by JulietKego: The Saddest Note We Ever Heard.

 

The Saddest Note We Ever Heard

 

The choir hummed a halting hymn
The organist played a pretty note
And we all waited for her to sing
And yet the only lyrics
That escaped her dry, parched tongue

#118. Floetry by JulietKego: I.Love.You

‪#‎ThisIsNotAPoem‬ ‪#‎RandomMusings‬

Floetry by JulietKego: I.Love.You

I.Love.You.

It is not a declaration

Or a proclamation

It is not a place

Or a feeling

Or a thought

or a thing

or words

Or a phase

or a meaning-less-ful phrase

or a craze

or magic

or madness

It is not about me

or about you

or about love

It is not to be connected

or pieced apart

or to be analyzed

or proved

or justified

It is not about truths or lies

It is not a blame

or a name

or a game

or a journey

or a destination

or a complication

It is not about worthiness

Or brokenness

or being lost or found

or falling or rising

or right or wrong

It is simply this:

I.Love.You.

Here. There.

Nowhere. Everywhere

Simple. Simply.This;

I.Love.You. 🙂

(C) Juliet ‘Kego Ume-Onyido

#120. Floetry by JulietKego: Foolish and Wise

‪#‎ThisIsNotAPoem‬ #RandomMusings

Sigh
Foolish, is I
Found not truth
In your doe-eyes
Sigh
Foolish, is I
Scalded as I tasted hot lies
In your loose tongue
Sigh
Foolish, is I
Saw but a child
In your man-girth

Sigh
Wise is I
Give you hot kisses
In honour of my love
Sigh
Wise is I
Laced my lips
With goodbye rums
Sigh
Wise is I
Intoxicate you to sleep
As I stealthily slip away

Sigh,
Foolish and wise, I
See scared little you
Simply as you really are
Afraid to grow up or own up

Sigh,
Foolish and wise, I
Listen to your jumbled lies
Still loving you as I let you go

Sigh,
Forever foolish is I
Missing the cold warmth of you
even when you’re not yet gone….

 

(C) Juliet Kego Ume-Onyido

#77. Lagos on my mind; Las Gidi state of mind.

Listen to the AUDIO Version of the poem below.

 

Las Gidi state of mind

The go – slow; the maddening traffic,

the jarring fast pace,

‘Ojuelegba? ‘Owa, owa’; the yelling and yapping

of crazy Molue and Danfo drivers.

Mama put and isiewu joints,

Amid the stinky smells of oceans and rivers

The fierce, obsessive, relentless race

to outrun giant, gutsy Eko rats

The runs, the hustle, the bustle,

(Eko for show),

Hustlers, hoping to hammer

————–

 

The Island, high-society; awon big boyz and gals

-Meet Jenifa’s crowd and crew

Caught in the designer madness, the endless chase

Under-the-bridge thugs and day-dreamers,

planning their next strike at the high-rise tricksters;

-the big spenders, the takers, movers and shakers,

moving fast-forward, then lost in reverse.

Rockstar-pastors and their sheeple,

trading big dreams for hard currency,

all in a polluted maze of fleece!

————–

 

Mainland, Ajegunle – AJ city, Eko Atlantic,

Slum hummers, jungle drummers,

Iyana Ipaja to Ajah, Lekki to Okokomaiko,

I love my Eko o [(♪, ♫)].

The exotic paradise of the combined beat

Shoprite designer rice, side by side with my Agege bread,

Faking it, making it, celebrating the mess and the madness

————–

 

Aje-butter, aje-pako,

Mushin-living, Louboutins-wearing, accent-forming,

welcome to our crazy land;

Redeemed by our sacred love for this soulful Island!

Tribe and tongue forgotten under the Island heat,

With love and passion we meet and greet,

screaming with swag from afar:

Bawoni? Kedu? How far?

The only currency accepted here are big, bold dreams.

————–

 

Las Gidi born, Las Gidi bred,

Together, we dare to follow our dreams,

Finding our unique light in the darkness, UP NEPA!

All united in this crazy prayer and anthem:

Eko oni baje o![(♪, ♫)]

Lagos, always on our minds,

eternal dreamers

in a Las Gidi state of mind.

(c) Juliet ‘Kego Ume-Onyido 2015 (All rights reserved).

[Image source: Author’s, self-created; copyright-free content]

#FloetrybyJulietKego: The Season of My Love

 

In the season when I first loved you
I swear I heard a sigh from the lady rain
as she wept non stop, (unlady-like), out loud
I guess from the fullness of your man cloud
Perhaps like me, she could not contain
the sight of your beauty-powered grace