Joshua Omeke is a Nigerian born Poet based in England. He has performed at LSE Ubuntu Cafe, been reviewed on Kirkus Review and has been nominated for several awards including the Forward Prize.
Joshua has been published in Nigeria, Uganda, Ghana, United States and the UK.
I REMEMBER…
I recall papa Abraham,
Whose saddle to venice,
Trailed saharan sands,
In 1972, he started his journey,
Survival of Nigerian civil war,
Mapped European routes,
At the borders his journey began,
By the lake of chad, he met Aisha,
Who kept him warm for three nights,
In his fight for purpose,
He continued to Libya,
West Africans with foreign visions,
Driven past saharan dunes,
On a landrover truck,
to the lands of no return,
In hope of greener pastures,
so much hardship was endured,
Hitchem from camp, spoke french,
Days in Morocco; were easy he said,
il est avec moi, Merci d’autoriser
Bribing corrupt naval officers,
to hide in war ships, nautical to sicily,
Somehow, somehow hitchem left for france,
Forced to learn the ways of the european,
Papa abraham longed for home,
He returned to start life,
I remember… his poignant words,
Like tapestry they measured courage,
In years to come they sustained,
He said; Africa is home.
SPLENDOROUS ACHE
If Roses grow in heaven,
Lord please select a bunch for me,
Place them in my grandma arms
and tell her they’re from me.
She saddled my cradle,
As thick residues of her love,
Enclose me like parentheses,
I held unto her protection.
Then swung past principles,
Of her enforced moral fiber,
Which were etched as morning dews,
Washing away bad-habits.
Through kaleidoscopic toy,
Younger me burnt for more,
As she stood to be a guiding light,
Into escaping rampage.
Please tell her I miss her,
and when she turns to smile,
place a kiss upon her cheek
and hold unto her for awhile.
Because remembering her is easy,
I do it every day but there’s an ache,
There’s an ache within my heart
That will never go away.
SUMMERTIME IN QUEBEC
Acer laurinum descending the air,
From trees stiffened in soil loam.
Navigating the Canadian heartbeats,
Like saint-jean lake in Quebec.
A tourist dreams shines to souls,
While french locals, cheek peck.
Open tradition from british to french,
Oozing demeanour of majestic blow.
In lingual composition as spirit soars,
Radiating effect of prairies landscape.
People of cultures diverse in community,
Whispering the strength of glacier Peyto.
The goodness of Canada’s suppleness,
Hidden likened to sweetness of her croissant.
Je ne parle française, the tourist spoke,
English and French, dear tourist, is in their soul.
OIL VESSELS: OLOIBIRI
Oil flows beneath,
Oloibiri’s troubled land,
Nature’s tears are shed.
Mistaken government was their friend,
Awaken to the sounds of gun shots,
Peasants running, soldiers,
Shooting and shooting,
Oil was found,
Ransack their town,
Burn it to the ground!
OUR ENEMIES
I see wild fire begetting cold ash,
Lives lost, water purifying the land,
The smell of burnt substances,
Remains for days to come,
But with the lives lost,
Properties and material items,
May no longer be the product of concern.
CHAINS OF LANGUAGE
Like strands of hair— Language with her volta bridges a connection amongst pairs.
In diction, tonation, presentation and norms, her rhythm is copacetic.
Creating a community of like minds, transcending values and norms,
Beyond the limitations of thoughts,
Words, are voiced to announce inner perception.
Which creates awareness of ethnicity, and brings forth understanding.
Like a daily bread, we eat words, and bridge norms.
Truly, in all complexes languages dissect to cultures, and bridge connection.
Like a hornet, the words buzz through the free air.
Disconnecting the hyperspace of solitude, to bridge direction, and announce intentions.
A garden of thoughts, gradually harvested by the strokes of the flipping tongue,
Beyond the amazonic Brazilian into the Scottish plains, languages traverse past African Savannah and bound middle easterners,
In alike terms with vastness there remains her counterpart— Silence.
An approach when language is not understood.
But with the twist n’ turn of words, backed by sign and expression, language between two unfamiliar ethnicity is established.
Joshua Omeke is a Nigerian born Poet based in England. He has performed at LSE Ubuntu Cafe, been reviewed on Kirkus Review and has been nominated for several awards including the Forward Prize. Joshua has been published in Nigeria, Uganda, Ghana, United States and the UK. Illustrations: Temilade Adelaja