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

 

Saddest Note

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

Click Here to Read More

#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

#RandomMusings – Finding that special one that fits perfectly!

‪#‎RandomMusings‬ by JulietKego: Maka Chukwu! I honestly did not set out to get him. I was walking and facing forward jejeli. Minding my own business. No aproko spirit in the air. No amebo or tatafo energy anywhere around. The gbegborun spirit had been quenched at night vigil the day before.

That Fada sabi do anointing and say correct prayers sha o (that one na correct story for another day! Hian, since this new handsome priest come to our parish, all the mothers and young girls don dey come receive communion. I no go lie jare, even me dey hear and understand the Word better now. E be like say Redemption get fine face o). Lol.

Anyway back to my Tori. Eh henn I was doing my daily walks in the mall like usual (Truth be told, I fell off the wargon for a while now, but this body must hot like Cameroun pepper by Easter of next year. E be like I go dey Television well well next year). Anyway, as I was saying, all of a sudden I see him hanging on her lifeless form.

So I thought: what nonsense. Correct looking thing like this should be on a living-breathing woman (insert my name here). I finished my walk and decided to wait o. Right in front of his dormot. Soon, the time to open up all the stores came and you better believe I was the first person in.

Told the salesgirl to take him off that mannequin, so I can try him on. Ahhh haha. E no reach 3 minutes, I don swipe card. As in, immediate decision. Love at first sight no ni.

This bobo knows how to hold a woman joor. Na so he package all my Ikebe in very ghenghen order, And even flattened this my one-pack belly with style. His colour was just gbam. Too much! Dark to my fair skin. We jel like ogbono soup and kpomo. His length nko? It was perfect for me. Not all those Ajasco, MJ-type, open-mouth for calves or before ankles type.

He was kissing the floor I walked on. Holding me firmly but not too tight or loose. Just perfectly so. And with each step, I heard him whispering in my ears: ‘Walk for me baby, strut your stuff!’ Me too dey whisper back to him: “17, 18, 19, Bobo!”  🙂

My people, una see me see wahala o. Na so o! I go do exercise with track suit and came back home in jeans. This is is the story of how I bought a perfect pair of dark, blue, stretch jeans! Jules

#PoetryMasterclass. Poem: Tonight I Can Write The Saddest Lines by Pablo Neruda

Tonight I Can Write The Saddest Lines – by Pablo Neruda

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
Write, for example,’The night is shattered
and the blue stars shiver in the distance.’

The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

Through nights like this one I held her in my arms
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.

She loved me sometimes, and I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.

To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.

What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is shattered and she is not with me.

This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

My sight searches for her as though to go to her.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.

The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.

I no longer love her, that’s certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.

Another’s. She will be another’s. Like my kisses before.
Her voice. Her bright body. Her inifinite eyes.

I no longer love her, that’s certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her.

Are you an African Poet? Enjoy Olu Oguibe’s post about a Poetry Masterclass he attended…

Some posts you read on Facebook and you immediately go GBAM!! I saw this on Olu Oguibe’s wall and simply had to share. I also particularly love the engaging conversation it opened up on his thread. Lot’s to think about. Enjoy!

[Culled from the Facebook Page of Olu Oguibe on December 27, 2015 at 8.30 am EST]. Shared with permission from the writer. Follow Olu Oguibe on Facebook by Clicking Here.

A couple of months ago, I attended a public lecture in the English Department at my college. The lecture was given by an emeritus professor, who’s also Connecticut’s most prominent contemporary poet. I was never a fan of her poetry because she writes in a vein that few Africans from the Continent relate to, but that’s exactly why I made a point of attending the lecture.

Click Here to Read More

#117. Floetry by JulietKego: 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

Click Here to Read More

DigitalBackBooks.com – Discover Africa’s Stories.

‪‪#‎AfricanLiterature‬
#TheDangerofASingleStory
#‎AfricanStories‬ ‪#‎PostcardsFromAfrica‬

I’ve always believed and harped on the fact that as Africans, we have to begin to tell empowering and more complete stories about ourselves. And also, to use more creative platforms to tell these stories, in order to be more relatable, accessible and in effect, a reach a wider audience. Watching Chimamanda Adichie’s brilliant TED Talk: The Danger of a Single Story, cemented this belief for me.

Click Here to Read More