Ngozi Olivia Osuoha (Nigeria)

 
Ngozi Olivia Osuoha (Nigeria)
 
Ngozi Olivia Osuoha is a Nigerian poet/writer/thinker, a graduate of Estate Management with experience in Banking and Broadcasting. She has authored twenty three poetry books and has also published over two hundred and eighty poems and pieces in over thirty countries. She has equally featured in over eighty international anthologies and has won several awards.
Some of her books are archived in the US Library of Congress including some anthologies she featured in. She’s a tailor too.
Some of her pieces have been translated into and published in some languages including Spanish, Polish, Macedonian, Russian, Romanian, Farsi, Khloe, Arabic among others.
 
 
BLACK CHILD
 
They call you coloured, as though they are colourless
And tag you awkward and still hinder your forward,
They compel you wayward and compact you untoward
Black child, the world is so wide, yet wants you wild!
 
The sea wants to drown you so be no fish, for fish is edible and profitable
Rather be the tide, the current and the storm
Be the mermaid, and rule the sea!
 
Black child, the fire wants to raze you
So be not the coal for coal is combustible,
Instead be the flame, the hotness, and the degree
Be not inflammable!
 
The wind wants to uproot you
Be the earth, the land and the forces!
 
The world doesn’t like your skin
So she can throw you into the bin
Just to get the tiniest tin
Or drink the harshest gin
And still label you a sin,
If that could make her win
Or puncture you with a pin.
 
Black child, you are not gold
Let no one have you sold,
Though you live in a nest
You can be the best.
You are never the worst
Let no one; your head burst!
 
Black child, you are not a monkey
Do not be laboured like a donkey
Though you live in a cave
You are not a slave,
And never you be a pest
Though they put you to test.
 
Your breastmilk is sweeter than honey
Let none syphon it with money,
Your balls are stronger than rocks
Let none crush them with blocks
Nor cage them with padlocks, for there is your life!
 
Black child, the world is dark
But you can make a mark!
Yes, your skin is black
But there is no nature you lack!
 
Your skin is beautiful and wonderful
Even the rainbow is not that colourful,
Black child, walk with your shoulders high
For no human is more human than you!
 
 
THE NONAGENARIAN DEITY
 
The nonagenarian deity
Instrumentalist, folklorist
Instrument of folklore;
Mike Ejeagha.
 
In tongues and gongs
Songs; sung and unsung
Climbing rungs to right wrongs;
Melting hills like wax.
 
The beautiful rainbow
That dazzles against shackles,
The handsome glow
That twinkles even with wrinkles.
 
Male, now pale
Tale even of gale
Voice of the ancestors
Flute of the kindred spirit
Tune, concordance, trumpet
Melody and harmony;
Mike Ejeagha.
 
The nonagenarian deity
Festival of folklores,
Spirit of the gods
The legacy, the heritage.
 
Mike Ejeagha
Anchor of tales
Succour of tails
Ripples on marble,
Legend of the seeker.
 
The golden voice
The diamond nuance
Platinum echo,
Hero of the land
Warrior of the people;
Mike Ejeagha.
 
Eulogies and elegies
Solemn assembly of the gods
Gathering of the spirits
The archive, the archivist.
 
Mike Ejeagha
Tales by moonlight
Realities by sunlight
Leisure by daylight
Pleasure by broad daylight,
A legend gentleman.
 
At ninety and one
You fought and won,
A unique nonagenarian
A prolific Nigerian,
Mike Ejeagha;
Another wonder of the world.
 
 
DEAR MAMA
 
Years move, we think of you
Decades go, still unforgettable
Times to come, we wish you were home.
 
Dear Mama
We wonder how long
When we would see you again
Though you rest under God’s wings.
 
So we know you are good
Great and better in heaven
Smiling down, looking, watching.
 
Dear Mama
Heaven is peaceful, stay
Paradise is blissful, enjoy
Rest, keep resting with God.
 
The world is painful
Full of thorns and pains
Fiercely piercing angels
Up there, you boom
Blooming, teeming green and young
Blossoming forth and fair.
 
Rejoice and pray for us
Merry, and stay safe forever
Dear Mama, we love you eternally.
 
 
DEAR DAD
 
Greetings Dad, I hope you are good. I write from the big heart to spot a dot and dot the spot because you have been a dot, a circle and a cycle.
 
You have spotted many lives and helped them dot their circles. You have circled and encircled lives in thousands that they didn’t get lost.
 
You dotted lines and circles, you made and broke cycles.
Today, I decided to dot you, circle you and encircle you because many a time, you link circles like springs.
 
Let it be told that on this day in history, I chose to honour you with dots, in dots and dotted facts.
 
For being on the front line for the dots, in all manner fatherly outstanding, farming, teaching, sporting, societal, cultural, defence, philosophical, academical, ……………..
 
Dear Dad, I deliberately make this tribute as small as a dot, as intentional as a dot, as mysterious as a dot. Enjoy your day, Sir.
 
 
 

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