Care

Beautiful Little Moon

Folder: 
ONE OF THOSE DAYS

Little Moon, Little moon
where did you come from?
I could not see you
with your short little feet
I could not hear you
with your soft little barks.
Little Moon, Little Moon
are you sicky poo?
the holes in your heart,
the tears on your fur
no please don't go?

Your spirit is energetic,
your tail is a prapeler
Look at you go,
run fast, run slow.
Little Moon, Little Moon
your heart was broken
your heart has healed.
Enjoy your sun,
enjoy your grass
Little Moon, Little Moon
I found you in my heart
I found you in my pillow case,
your fun to watch.

Little Moon, my Beautiful Little Moon
Bring joy to my heart
Bring joy to my soul,
we love you so
from snout to tail
from slobber to muddy paws,
our beautiful little moon
Our Luna Bella, you are.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

In 2010 I received a 2 month old puppy. She was the runt of the little, came with two complicated wholes in her heart... after many tears, watching her slowly losing life... and $10,000 later in vet bills, she is a healthy 1 year old puppy with the energy of 10!

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tags:

the Peanut song

Folder: 
ONE OF THOSE DAYS

Short and stubby,
walks a little funny.
Little paws with fur
Little heart shaped nose.
Ta di da, ta di da,
it's the Peanut song.
Ta di da, ta di da
It's the Peanut song.

Shy little guy
with the heart of gold
Funny little pup
with his tail white as snow.
Found on Surrey Street,
alone and cold
Ta di da, ta di da,
sing the Peanut Song.
Ta di da, ta di da,
It's the Peanut song.

Furry little ears
Fall green eyes
His my puppy from Surrey Street
my puppy from the Angels above
shy little guy, so I sing to him
Ta di da, ta di da
His little song
Ta di da, ta di da
It's the Peanut song.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I found a puppy two years ago on a street Named Surrey, took him a while to trust me, but I invented a little jinggle and to this day, when he is scared, when he shys under the bed or in a corner I sing this poem/song, and he looks at me to say "thanks for making me feel a little better and safer".

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'Clouds'...A Brick on the Wall

I cannot help but notice faces in the clouds--

memories of a forgotten yesterday come to mind.

Dreams hang from certain clouds like apples on a

tree, the blue sky behind the clouds is a miracle

awaiting for faith to come around--

The Sun brakes warming a feeling of hope in the

clouds, some shed tears, others laugh--

Clouds are scattered, one is a dragon blowing fire

across the realm of time...traveling clouds scream

for an end, only to be welcomed by the storm ahead--

a breeze is beginning to blow, yet it is only a whisper

in the wind.

A war has began in front of my eyes,

clouds resembling battles in my life--

One of the clouds looks like a demon I once saw in

one of my drug induce experiences...

A white blanket now covers the sky,

lost and confused the clouds come together for safety-

From a distance I can see a ray of prosperity trying

to set free the agony of being a slave...

Sitting in front of the window clouds are my view,

I wish I was free like them--but I am reminded

that I am only another brick on the wall...

Author's Notes/Comments: 

We are all bricks on the wall...

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Brady

I wrote this for my friend who I've been trying to convince to stop smoking. We're young, and I don't think he realizes the severity of the consequences of what he's doing that will come later. I care, and I've been trying to help him, but it's at the point now where I just don't know if he can be helped...

Don't you know the world is round
and things will come back to you?
Mistakes we make in early days
will come to eat right through you.

We live our lives by who we are,
and perfect we are not,
but still you do destructive things-
condemn yourself to rot.

Though your heart is sweet and good,
somehow you've lost your way,
and now I've found you blindly living
in your darkest day.

I reach my hand for you to take
to pull you to the light,
but you won't take it- you won't do
what you know is right.

But no, I will not walk away
and leave you in the dust,
'cause I can see that somewhere there's
a diamond in the rust.

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Apologize

Im sorry for trying to care,
always trying to be there.
Im sorry for wasting your time.
Im sorry for getting close to you,
for being nice to you.
Im sorry for the stuff i only told you....

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American Galaxy

American Galaxy   

https://sites.google.com/site/uwachuku/americangalaxy

Celebrating the People and the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave   

Remembering the Union's Faith Foundation   

A Loving Higher Purpose for the People   

Copyright © Ugonna Wachuku   

https://about.me/ugow

https://www.ted.com/profiles/1724539/about

UgonnaWachuku.com

Hope for Dunblane

Hope for Dunblane  

 

 

In evergreen memory of our beloved 
children of Dunblane Primary School,

Scotland: United Kingdom! 

 

 

Ugonna Wachuku 

 

(c) March 1996   

 

__ 

 

Contents  

 

__ 

 

 

Dedication  

 

Prologue  

 

Part One:   

 

D:

 

Victoria:  at dawn   

 

Emma:  innocent face   

 

U:

 

Melissa:  bells toll   

 

Charlotte:  harmless smiles

 

N:

 

Kevin:  You walked our streets   

 

Ross:  to the brilliant gardens

 

B:

 

David:  tell it on the mountain?   

 

Mhairi:  evening walk without you

 

Part Two:  

 

L:

 

Brett:  sweet, little love   

 

Abigail:  on the green earth

 

A:

 

Emily:  in search of you   

 

Sophie:   I remember you

 

N:

 

John:  your soiled napkin   

 

Joanna:  in my tears

 

E:

 

Hannah:  child of peaceful Dunblane  


Megan:  my memories of you  

 

Part Three:

 

Smiles and hope

 

What monstrous hatred?

 

Epilogue

 

The Author

 

__  



Dedication  


__ 


In unfailing memory of

our 16, 5 years old kids

murdered by Thomas Hamilton

at Dunblane Primary School

Scotland on wednesday 13

March, 1996;

 

an eternal tribute to their

noble teacher who was shot

defending the children;

a message of hope and love

to mourning parents and families;

 

a loving homage of caring

love to the 12 kids and 2

teachers wounded;

to all humankind who have

learnt from, and dared to

be wounded by the bloody

tears of Dunblane!!!

 

__ 

 

Prologue

 

__ 

 

 

"Blessed are they that mourn;

for they shall be comforted."

 

~Mattthew 5: 4

 

"Blessed be God, even the Father

of our Lord Jesus Christ, the

Father of all mercies and the

God of all comfort:

Who comforts us in all our

tribulation, that we may be

able to comfort them which

are in any trouble, by the

comfort wherewith we

ourselves are comforted

of God."  

 

~2 Corinthians 1: 3-4   

 

 

The shock stills! The coldness dumbs! The reality

blatantly unfathomable! The tragic truth of humanity's

age old bizarreness sneaked in on the historic small town

of Dunblane, Scotland, on wednesday 13 March 1996, when

a lone gunman made his way into Dunblane Primary School

and in stacatto bursts of gun fire murdered 16 five year

old kids and their teacher. 12 other kids and 2 teachers

were wounded.   

 

 

When the reality of this news dawned on me, my world

stood breathless. For fleeting seconds, I thought I

was gonna wake up from my dream and see that it was not

true. But then, I fainttingly realized that I was rather

dreaming with my eyes wide open! The evergreen garden

of the blooming respect and love I have for children

all over the world had been deeply stained by the

cold blood of humankind's death-weapon. White walls

of my yearning for a better world for our earth's children,

our tomorrow's people, crumbled into streams of tears

and blinding sorrow as death quaked its loving grounds

with a gun-man's hand. Tears rolled down my face in dry

shriek. It was, in its own manner, yet another monstrous

atrocity, blatantly unique, in mankind's march through

this troubled world.  

 

 

Remembering that two months from the 13 of March, it

would be the United Nations declared International Day

of Families - 15 May, 1996, I bitterly wept for Dunblane.

I cried for humanity!   

 

 

Then, in my deep-felt sorrow, I realized that 1995-2005

is the United Nations decade for human rights education.

The question of what rights the child has to life, liberty

and security haunted my weary being. This brought me to

the brink of accepting that in many ways, humankind have

failed our children, our hope for the nations, our future!    

 

 

This book is as a result of my soulful tears and contrite heart.

This is my loving and healing hope for Dunblane because

violence to children anywhere is violence to me personally!   

 

 

Ugonna Wachuku

Wednesday 27 March, 1996 

Loex: Bernex Commune 

Geneva, Switzerland 

 

__    


Part one:   


__    



"If I can help somebody

as I pass along, if I

can cheer somebody with

a word or song...then,

my living will not be

in vain."   

 

~Martin Luther King, Jr.     



D:   


at dawn:   


Victoria Clydesdale:    



at dawn, clouds began

to gather over your

little, sleepy town -

these clouds of death

defied those streams

of peace in you:   

 

They overlooked the

beauty of your innocent

smiles.    

 

The forgot the warmness

of your innocence.

These clouds of death

did not bother to see

the unspeakable love

in your eyes.   

 

Latter that morning,

these clouds brought

in more thicks of

darkness; waiting to

bring the healthy

light you've always

known to an end.   

 

You never knew!   

 

Afterwards, the rains

came from these dark

clouds.   

 

But these rains were

not form heaven's nature.

They came from one of

us - a gun man who defied

families and humanity -

a gunman who believed

you had no right to

live and be educated.   

 

His bullets cut you

down. Yet, we refuse

to see you die.

We refuse to end

the sweet smiles you

gave; even in our

battered memories.   

 

You left home with

hope and love for

a better day. But

valiant Vicky, your

day ended in tears.

Our world stood still. 

 

Our breath fizzled out;

while earth's streams

flowed without life.   

 

Our wretched world

ended with your death.

Our tears continue even

with blue clouds and

the rainy rainbow.    

 

Now, we dream of your

loving laughter.

We dream of your calm

screams through the

welcoming day.    

 

Ehen finally, we wake

up, we shall still dream

of you, Victoria because

those smiles in your

eyes will linger

forever

while

our

dreams

of

you

trails

our

left

d

a

y

s
.

.

.

.

.

.



Innocent Face:

 

Emma Crozier:    

 

Your innocent face

shown around the

world stopped us

on the road to life.   

 

Your endless twinkle

snuffed out stars

in our skies and

brought daylight.   

 

Yet you were cut

down before you

could ask why?   

 

Beloved Emma, you

were hot to death

even in the peaceful

state of your simple

soul so calm and

trusting.   

 

Nobody seemed to care.

Humanity left you in

your innocence and

love.   

 

And death could not

wait to take you

away from us, Emma!

Death walked your

trusting path and

mine unknown.   

 

We refuse to accept

that death can take

you away. We affirm

that God will dry

your tears and ours.   

 

Yet our tears flow

because now we deeply

understand that you

were our sweet, little

girl of love and hope.   

 

The earth, with me,

weeps for you, emerald

Emma. Heaven bleeds

tormenting tearful

torrents because you

were our love, our

reason forc being.   

 

Beloved Emma, you

were our future.

But death did not

bother to respect

the hope and love

you symbolized for

or empty world.   

 

That gun of death

tracked you down

and in your own

blooming blood,

you gave up the

hope and bountiful

love within your

beautiful soul.   

 

How I shudder to think

about towering tears

so silent in your

dying breath and mine.   

 

Your utter disbelieve

at what was happening

to you and your class-

mates.   

 

What soul do I have

to stand your pleading,

searching eyes?   

 

What mortal strength

do I have to bear this

shattering burden?   

 

Who would answer your

prying questions for

humanity, Emma?   

 

Your innocent face

will linger forever.

Your smiles.

Your enchanting,

little laughter!   

 

Emma, just remember,

you are my hero.

You were our love.

Now, you are

God's

caring

A

n

g

e

l

__ 

 

 

U:   

 

bells toll:

 

Melissa Currie:   



Now, the bells toll for

you. The bells toll to

welcome earth's herald

of your little body,

Melissa!   

 

This is no wedding bell

in the country church

yard. This is no

christening ceremony...  

 

::::::: 

::::::: 

From my long-hand collection: 

Hope for Dunblane

Ugonna Wachuku  

(c) March 1996 

Geneva: Switzerland 

 

The Road to Essertines

The Road to Essertines 

 

The Road to Essertines

 

Ugonna Wachuku 

 

(c) April 1997

 

 

Contents:   

 

 

Dedication   

 

Prologue   

 

 

The Harvest I   

 

 

The Harvest II   

 

 

Cathie   

 

 

Dreams   

 

 

Now   

 

 

Barefooted   

 

 

Forever   

 

 

This   

 

 

Lonely Eagle   

 

 

Brooks to You   

 

 

Aglow   

 

 

Distant Streams   

 

 

When Dawn Comes   

 

 

River Bird   

 

 

The Moon Never Departs   

 

 

When the Birds Sing   

 

 

The road   

 

 

Flower   

 

 

Silence   

 

 

She will Be   

 

 

This Earth in You   

 

 

For the Beginning   

 

 

I Remember Who You Are   

 

 

Winter in your Heart   

 

 

Masterpiece II   

 

 

Back Again   

 

 

Beckon Eagles   

 

 

Moon Angel   

 

 

Masterpiece   

 

 

Farewell   

 

 

The Author   



Dedication:   



To her who became an

enigmatic muse on

The road to Essertines-

Catherine Ramu!      

 

 

Prologue:    

 

On the road to Essertines, there is no short cut.

The experience is a long, whole, breathless, 

charming encounter with nature.

 

Yearning to be at one with enchanting country-sides of poetic

Confederation Helvetia, I set out for Essertines a small village

in the Dardagny Commune of Switzerland's Canton of Geneva.

 

Above of all, I went in search of her. And discovered that I

have been charmed to entrancement by the nature of her

village.   


On this stupendous road to Esertines, she became an enigma

and subsequently bloomed into a Muse. The reality of this

Muse dawned on me when I discovered that within the depths

of my creative being, new forms of poetic expression were

taking shape and breathing.   

 

In the days weeks and months that followed - between April,

1996 and February, 1997, poems in this collection were

written by me in response to the awesome creative inspiration

this enigmatic Essertines Muse brought my humble way.  

 

For how long she will remain this Muse, I cannot tell. But

indeed, I have dedicated this collection to her as a soulful,

monumental tribute to all women and men of inspiration and

goodwill; who will, against all odds, continue to love, to

care, to cherish and to conquer evil and fatal forces that

wish to stiffle our humaneness as humankind bound in dignified

brotherhood, peace and loving oneness.  

 

Today, it is a beautiful March afternoon. The sun is brilliant

and warm. From the large window of my home library and study,

I can see Geneva's magnificent country-side greening into

splendid spring near the river Rhone. So, I will be so

grateful if you join me as I step-out for an inspired walk

on the road to Essertines!  

 

Ugonna Wachuku

Loex village,

Bernex Commune,

Geneva, Switzerland

13 March, 1997   

 

 

A:

The Harvest I   

 

On the temple's threshold,

I await your home-coming. 

 

I do not wait alone.

The eagle waits too. 

 

Then, at the distance,

the farmer begins to

gather the harvest for

you and for nature.

The sower begins to

soe the seed from the

land in your heart.   

 

The land is fertile.

Your land is green.

The rain begins to

drizzle.   

 

The land kisses her.

The rain kisses the

land and the eagle

smiles across those

green fields luring.   

 

The sower sows more

seeds.  

 

The rain increases in

intensity while beneath

the sheltering tree you

sit in calm contemplation.   

 

Then you drink from

the rain as the farmer

gathers the harvest in

the healing, fertile

rain of your land.   

 

In your eyes, the new

harvest is seen.

New seeds begin to

sprout.

 

B:

 

The Harvest II   

 

The Path:  

 

I came to see you

yesterday.

I was at the farm.  

 

Catherine:

[Shrugs]  

 

I wasn't there.

Anyway, if you came, that was

fine of you. And whatwas your

mission?  

 

The Path:    

 

I came for the harvest.

These days, one never

knows when the clouds

will gather.    

 

Catherine:

[Somewhat suprised]  

 

The harvest! Who told you

there's a harvest?  

 

The Path:    

 

I am the path! 

 

Catherine:

Aha! The Path! The Path

to what? To where? 

 

The Path:   

 

Yesterday, remember you were

the road. The road flows to

your river inthe heart of

Essertines. But then, I am

the Path to this harvest!   

 

Catherine:

[Startled]  

 

You're kidding me!

Who told you to believe

that?  

 

The Path:   

 

I don't need any old time

prophet to tell me that.

It's real. And don't you

forget: I am still the Path!  

 

Catherine:

[Shrugs again. Stares] 

 

Hmmnnmm! Talk about being

real. What do you know about

the harvest anyway?  

 

The Path:   

 

I was with you at the

beginning. I saw you

sitting under the tree

in the rain. The farmer

was there. The sower.

And the eagle too. I was

with you at your childhood

streams and waterfalls of

yeaterday and today - at the

spring - if you understand.   

 

Catherine: 

 

I could. But then, I honestly

want to  know what you would say

about this harvest. I saw your

noble rainbow when the clouds

gatther. You think I didn't? 

 

The Path:    

 

Ah! There you are!!

But I have already told

you about the farm. What

else do you want to hear?

          

Catherine:  

 

Your heartbeat! 

 

The Path:

 

The Path never beats.

It trails. For the heartbeat,

I suggest you meet your friend-

eagle.   

 

Catherine:

 

Okay! Then, what do

you trail? 

 

The Path:    

 

You

 

Catherine:  

[Shaken. Exclaims]  

 

Meeee! The Path 

trails little me!  

 

The Path:  

 

Well ... 

 

Catherine: 

 

That's all you'll

say? - "well ..."

Why me?

Tell me.

You seem to be an

interesting character.  

 

The Path:   

 

I have played so many

parts in my life-span

and time. You could be right.  

 

Catherine:  

 

Then, what about the

harvest?

What about trailing me?  

 

The Path:  

 

I will tell you tomorrow

when we meet at the river.  

 

Catherine:  

 

The river! Where would

that be: The river?

 

The Path: 

 

Listen, Catherine, the

eagles call now. I've

got to go. We'll see at

the river.  

 

Catherine: 

 

Hey you! Wait a second! 

 

 

But The Path was gone.

Leaves in the wind

followed The Path

while at the distance,

village drummers and

dancers waited for the

harvest ceremony at a

river of life and love

yet unknown to her.   

.......

.......

 

From my book collection: The Road to Essertines


 ~ Critiques/Comments ~


Amy Riberdy
winnowillwhite@hotmail.com
i AM JUST SO LOST IN A MAGICAL WORLD IN THIS WONDERFULLY SYMBOLIC &
IMAGINATORY STORY.  WHO TOLD YOU I WAS THE HARVEST? (THE QUESTION...)
(THE ANSWER COMES WITH SUCH CONFIDENCE & POSSIBLY A LITTLE BIT OF
SMUGNESS: " I AM THE PATH..")  THEN COMES THE CHALLENGE... AH, THE
PATH. THE PATH TO WHAT? WHERE. CATHERINE TAKES NOTHING AT FACE VALUE,
EVEN ONE WHO CLAIMS TO KNOW IT ALL...  I AM SO IMPRESSED.... WELL
DONE. AMY
http://www.postpoems.com/members/gentle 


Mona Omar
monao3@yahoo.com
wow ugonna the road to essertines is lovely but the path was gone
leaves in the wind followed the path  river of life and love yet
unknown to her ?! wow its beautiful
http://www.postpoems.com/members/mona


Charisma *T.A.* Makatita-Poortman
shyrena@wanadoo.nl
I am truly impressed by your talent. Thank you for sharing your
wonderful thoughts.  Charisma ~*TMP*~
http://www.postpoems.com/members/charisma

 

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Caring and Loving

Ugonna Wachuku

 

You always talk about
caring and  loving:

 

You talk about brotherhood and
togetherness. You even take walks
through crowded streets looking for
the needy.

 

You pray always for the poor and
the unloved. You even pretend that
you care whenever you see me. You
proudly stand in street corners
to sing of your love for humanity.
You even sing of your love on TV
and radio.

 

You smile those lip service smiles
all the time. I cannot see it coming
from your heart because you always
avoid my eyes. When they call you,
you tell them how much you care;
how much you love. You preach it
from the pulpit. You sing it on
stage with lusting souls. I cannot
tell whether you mean it because
you never show it indeed.

 

When I needed help, you turned your
pious back on me. You gave reasons.
I might run away, you said. Where then
is the love you preach and sing about?

 

I needed a place to lay my little head.
But you left me all alone. You told me
to go and sleep in the cold hands of
unhealthy streets. You left me all
alone; all alone to swim with hungry
sharks and heartless people.

 

You smile when you see me and pretend
to care. You only remember that I exist
when you see me. You pretend to care and
love. Remember, you cannot light-up a room
and cover the light. The light must shine.
You cannot pretend for too long. Even in
my dreams, I see the uncaring and unloving
nature of your being and soul. I calmly see
the hypocrtic handsomeness that you possess:

 

In my dreams and tears, I scream:
Hypocrite! Hypocrite! Because with
your uncaring nature, you teach me
what love is not. And I learn for
the good of humanity and for me
because all I want to know and be
is what love is:

 

I'll always scream hypocrite
because you need to know the
truth of the spotted leopard.
Surely, my dear, the truth
will make you free. And my
caring screams will fade
away like a departing
flower fountain! 

 

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