Hope

When Sunlight Falls

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spiritual poems

When Sunlight Falls





Today I spend some hours

In hush of golden sunbeams

Were thoughts escape from reality

To slide away in daydreams



It's then when Sunlight falls

To caress my sensitive soul

Were it gently rocks the inner me

To cherish and console



'Twill spread His warm comfort

All over my longing whole

Were it will be absorbed greedily

By desert of my empty soul



Light of love and sanity

Wellness of soothing harmony

In Thee I find strength

Solace for struggling me



Today I spend some hours

Encircled with Golden Rays

Peaceable Light please guide me home

Relieve my blue whiny days.



© Theresia A. Makatita-Poortman


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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 

 

Homage to Geneva

Homage to Geneva  

 

Ugonna Wachuku at the Roformation Monument: Geneva: Switzerland

 

Ugonna Wachuku 

 

(c) 1998: Ugonna Wachuku 

 

Contents: 

 

Dedication

 

Prologue

 

Escalade

 

Homage to Geneva

 

Fireworks

 

Spirit of Geneva

 

English Garden

 

River Walk

 

Alpine Garden

 

Take My Love

 

The Author 

 

Dedication: 

 

To every Genevese

and to every other

human being who,

in oneness, symbolize

that Genevan spirit

of tolerance, peace,

humanitarianism and

brotherhood of all

humankind.

 

 

Prologue  

 

"Man is born free;

and everywhere he

is in chains."

~ Jean Jacques Rousseau

 

"The desire to be as

civil as possible is

a deep motive for the

contemplative life."

~M. Scott Peck

 

In Geneva today, the human creative spirit is

not in chains. One is invited to let one's creative

essence run calmly wild for the peaceful good of all

humanity.

 

In contemplation therefore, Geneva will never cease

to awe and inspire  my deepest poetic emotion. For

me, Geneva is not just a small, global city and state.

Geneva is an emerald beauty of huge, natural, creative

inspiration so unexplainable.

 

In paying this homage to Geneva, it is my kind wish to

invoke the most subtle feeling in every human heart -

so that we can begin to see Geneva anew based on her

ancestral heritage in the reformation and humanitarianism.

 

And also in the moving spirit of her hard-won independence

clothed in that strengthening solidarity of the human spirit.

In Geneva's great name, let us continue to live with that

cherished spirit of peace warmed in the sky-blue garments

of love and solidified in the flame of human adversity

and soulful yearning for survival through this journey

called life.

 

At the very dawn of the new millennium, let us embrace

one another with that sweet fragrance of humane care

and healing oneness.

 

In Geneva's meadow gardens and green country-sides

of inspiration and peace, :- from Hermance to Dardagny;

from Veyrier to Versoix, to Plan-les-Ouates - where 

inspiring Patek Philippe have been humanely creating

worthy watches for humankind since 1839, let us, indeed,

affirm our love for one another despite our skin colour,

religious creed, social status, level of education or ethnic

origin: 


By doing so, we will surely build an enchanting world of

peace and humaneness where everyone will sit with joy

and fulfilment under his or her own Alpine tree

or palm tree.

 

Subsequently, let me specially call on all women and

men of inspiration and goodwill to join me in paying

this heart-felt homage to Geneva - with additional

inspiration and encouragement from abiding friends

such as Franck Muller: Master of Complications! 

 

Let my creative tribute to this humanely great Canton of

the Swiss, Confederation Helvetia, which I have come to

christen: Poetic Geneva, outlive the monuments of time

and stone. Let us cherish this humble homage to Geneva

now and forever!

 

Ugonna Wachuku

Wednesday 20 May, 1998

Geneva, Switzerland

 

i:

 

Escalade 

 

There is a spirit so strong

and beautiful on this land

called Geneva where the

rivers Rhone and Arve

calmly flow.

 

On a summer boatride down

the Rhone town and country,

one's joy is aroused by the

enchanting nature of Geneva's

bloom and glow.

 

Geneva is a beautiful land

beckoning to love and to

embrace with a maidens's

charm.

 

The people of Geneva are

beautiful too. It is the

people's strong spirit

that sustains the land in

beauty an peaceful

independence.

 

This strong spirit came

on firmly during that

dark night of December

11, 1602, when it seemed

the stars of hope and

light had fled from

Geneva's sky.

 

When it seemed the people

of Geneva will smile no

more in the land's beauty.

With Charles-Emmanuel -

Duke of Savoy on the brink

of conquering Geneva by

suprise, the land's peaceful

soul was shaken.

 

From the city walls at

Plainpalais to the

clinging bells of Saint

Peter's Cathedral, the

Genevese raised their

loving lanterns in

oneness.

 

Jacques Mrcier's first

shot of warning can

still be heard today,

raising that strong

spirit for the land's

fragrant, uplifting

freedom.

 

Even Francois Bousezel

who gave his life to

keep Geneva's peaceful

independence and beauty

will still be remembered

till the end of time.

 

In a spirit of oneness

and love, Geneva fought

to bring glorious light

and freedom during that

night of terror.

 

Through the years, that

sweet aroma of Mere

Royaume's pot of saving

soup can still be breathed

in soothing defence of

Geneva's independence.

 

Lady Piaget's keys

unlocked the darling

door to freedom and

joyful victory.

 

Geneva won her freedom,

her peaceful independence

when Isaac Mercier dropped

the Portcullis at the

blown-up gate of Porte

Neuve.

 

The stars smiled.

Heaven heathered.

 

The dark grey sky

bloomed into dewy

dawn on that glorious

sunday morning when

Theodore de Beze and

Simone Goulart led

Geneva in worship

and praise to God

Almighty who made

all things peaceful

and beautifully

healing.

 

Remember, there is

a strong spirit so

splendid and uplifting

on this land of heaven's

earth called Geneva where

the rivers Rhone and Arve

freshly flow with gladness.

 

There is a spirit so

strong and beautifully

inspiring on this

Genevese land called

Saint Gervais where

eighteen men lie

while the freedom

and peaceful

independence

they won live

for you and

for me till

the end of

time!

 

....... From my book: Homage to Geneva ....... 

(c) Ugonna Wachuku: May 1998 

Geneva: Switzerland 

 

Homage to Geneva 

~ Critiques/Comments ~ 

 

Serene Moment

belleloved@excite.com

  A very nice tribute to Geneva.  I've learned a lot on an historical perspective.  Great work. ^_^  

http://www.postpoems.com/members/serene  

 

Helen Schmidt

heljac123@aol.com

Ugonna, 

 

What a wonderful homage to a beautiful city. My husband and I have visited Geneva and found it to be a lovely, ethereal place whose citizens are friendly and welcoming.  I enjoyed the historical citations in your "Homage to Geneva."  A beautiful piece! 

 

Best regards, 

 

Helen

http://PostPoems.com/members/helen

2002-02-22 12:03:50 


Farah D

fiffi_d@yahoo.com

I was in Geneva last month and I can totally relate to the sentiments that you have expressed so beautifully here..Ugonna. Its a most wonderful and humane city...and you have brought that aspect of the city so well in your poem. Its as if Geneva is speaking to you and through the words of Geneva you speak to us. One of my most memorable memories of Geneva is from the air as the plane swoops in to land ..with the calmness of the lake beckoning you to come down quickly. I will surely be back again in Geneva soon and I will surely be back before that to read your wonderful words. Thank you Ugonna.

http://PostPoems.com/members/destiny

 

2002-04-14 13:53:42  

 

Flanders Fields

Flanders' Fields

 

Ugonna Wachuku 

 

(c) 1997: Ugonna Wachuku 

 

__ 

 

Contents

 

__ 

 

Dedication

 

Prologue

 

Flanders Fields 

 

Crossroad

 

The Lamp

 

In Your Eyes

 

Angel

 

New Hope

 

Let me Be

 

What Have We Done

 

Racism and Injustice

 

Sky Blue

 

Once Again


Waiting

 

Searching

 

When I'm Gone

 

Landscape of My Soul

 

Take Me Home

 

Still Waters

 

Heaven

 

The Author

 

__ 

 

Dedication

 

__ 

 

To the cherished memory

of John McCrea and all

those brave souls who

"lie in Flanders Fields"

__ 

 

 

Prologue

 

__ 

 

"Tell them this, if ye

break faith with us who

die, we shall not sleep

though poppies grow

in Flanders' Fields."

 

~John McCrea

 

These deeply moving words by John McCrea

just before he died on the French Channel

coast in 1918 with the British coastline

in view, could not be more essential and

meaningful than now and ever.

 

Conequently, it is in keeping faith with

the dead that I write this collection. Now,

what does keeping faith with the dead mean?

Keeping faith with the dead is to do our

very best to make peace. In making peace,

our basic task  is to embrace the truth of

the brotherhood of humanity - so that,

together as one, we will make the world a

healthy and beautiful home. This is the most

valuable legacy we can bequeath to humankind.

 

Future generations will undoubtedly be glad.

In unequivocal terms, let us join hands with

the strength of love. We must denounce the

devastating reality of hatred, racial injustice,

poverty, deprivation, under-development and

war, again and again - and again!

 

My narrative poem: `Flanders' Fields' explores the

fatal problem of war, life and death with a visit

to the graveyard. This ballad is symbolic of life,

hope, beauty, love and the passing reality of the

often sad human condition. Flanders' Fields takes

us on a journey of realization and awareness -

the wisdom in allowing our earthly life to grow,

to love in humility and bloom like the poppy which

will flower forever.

 

Subsequently, from `Crossroad' to `Heaven', join me

for a humane, creative voyage into love, care and

beautiful rejuveneration in nature. Experience those

fears, tears, dreams, riddles and hope we have in

common. Surely, beloved friends, my deep-felt hope

is that you will personally find meaning, joy and

soul healing inspiration from this collection.

 

My simple prayer is that our ever loving God will

grant us deep faith to hold hands together and affirm

our believe in a peaceful world founded on the brotherhood

of humankind and clothed in the brilliant blue garments

of love:

 

May our longing and search for a peaceful world lead us

to the saving meadow-land and green pastures of that

heavenly storm stopper: May this age old yearning of

every human soul find uplifting expression in that living

love and unfathomable peace that will flower and bloom like

the poppies of Flanders' Fields!

 

Ugonna Wachuku

Wednesday 10 August, 1997

Geneva, Switzerland

 

__ 

 

i:

 

Flanders' Fields

 

My maternal grandfather

fought in the jungles

and trenches of Burma,

now, Myanmar.

 

That day, tears clouded

my young eyes as

he told me stories of

life in the trenches.

In great sorrow, I

listened as he told

how friends and loved

ones fell side by side

through the fatal heat

of war.

 

I could smell the

breath of human blood

mixed with mud in

those deadly trenches

of Burma where uncaring

men fought with one

another from dawn to

dusk.

 

With the warmness of

that cold harmattan

night, we sat by the

traditional mud hut

kitchen fire.

 

The sweet smell of

the roasting corn

filled the air with

the smell of the

roasting local pear

and yam.

 

A keg of sweet palm wine

stood by, as well as a

bowl of palm oil mixed

with pepper.

 

I could feel tears

in his eyes as he

told me that most

of them did not

even know why they

were killing one

another!

 

They had no clear

idea of what it

was they were really

fighting for.

Outside, the wind howled

and whistled through

the dark noises of the

night, silently

heralding the cold,

dry dusty desert wind

from the nothern

Sahara.

 

Amos Odu:

for that is my maternal

grandfather's name

told my young heart

the horrors of war.

He taught me the

beauty of peace

flowered with the

fragrant breath of

loving hearts all

across our weeping

world.

 

He told me not

to loose sight of

the real dream of

hope founded on

peaceful handshakes,

smiles and kisses.

 

Then, on that warm,

cold harmattan night,

beside the kitchen

fire, my two younger

brothers: Uchenna and

Ikenna, joined us for

the story.

 

Together, as one,

with the lost love

in human hearts, we

symbolized a new

beginning.

 

I, whose name, Ugonna

means Eagle of God, the

precious large bird of

prey, with keen eyesight,

vision, strength, majestic

essence, princely profile

and dignified endowment,

called myself: Birth.

Uchenna, whose name

means: God's thought

or Father's thought

called himself: Life.

Ikenna, whose name

means; God's strength

or Father's strength,

called himself: Death.

 

Together, since blood

is thicker than water

or even crude oil for

that matter, we formed

a circle of love and

peace. It was a new

heartfelt beginning: 

 

We formed a circle of

human experience and

began to ask why

mankind must kill one

another. We began to

ask why blood must

form river beds in

trenches, jungles

and cities before

humankind realizes

the shameful

nothingness

of war. 

 

We came to affirm

our belief in love;

our caring belief

in the brotherhood

of humankind.

Our circle is a

continuing one,

lovingly reaching

out to touch every

human soul - for

peace; for tolerance;

for the respect of that

bountiful, divine worth

within each human person.

Later, my grandmother,

my father's mother,

taught us the wastage

in war:  

 

Her story was not

of ther trenches of

Burma;

But of the trenches

of Biafra, flooded

with the blood of

our tribesmen on war

path with the bigger

land of my birth.

 

With tears in our

little eyes, we

asked questions.

She told us about

our uncle called

Victor;

a brilliant soul

who was studying

engineering at the

university.

 

The day he left

home for the war

front was the last

they saw of him.

 

The wind whistled

past while trees

swayed to the rhythm.

She told us that

stories were brought

home, of how Victor

her fourth son died

at the Abagana sector

of the war front in

the heat of war.

 

My tribesmen were

called the Biafran

rebels. In turn,

they called the foe,

Nigerian vandals.

 

We could feel the

pain in her eyes.

We could feel

the bleeding heart

of such a loving

and caring mother,

when she said:

 

"We mourned him

so much because

none of the family

saw his body to

this day!"

 

My grandmother turned

to me and told us how

I was born a year after

the Biafran war ended:

She believed I was

Victor's soul renewed

since I was the first

child to be born in

the family after that

bloody and devastating

civil war.

 

My father, whose name,

Maduadighibeyanma, means:

Man hates his fellow human

beign, is her second child.

Then, my grandmother,

whom my two brothers

and I call Ne-nne,

blessed me:

"Vikitor (Victor) died

in the biafran war; but

you are soul renewed -

his soul, born into the

the family as a heavenly

consolation."

 

My grandma, a brave

woman of hopeful

strength and grandeur

prayed further: 

 

"May you seek

peace and build

peace. May you

build peace from

home to the ends

of the earth."

 

In the hidden tears

of her love, she

chanted:

 

"May you, your brothers

and your generation never

see war. War is evil. No

one ever wins. No life is

left unhurt or shattered.

No family is left unscared!"

 

The wind rose and

whistled past.

Trees bowed as if

in agreement to my

grandmother's prayer

and chant.

 

Yet, wars are planned

and made by mankind

in the hateful darkness

of his mind and heart.

But no war is

ever won.

 

The deep, bloody

scars are left to

the living;

to cherish;

to care and

to heal.

 

The cost is too

heavy a burden.

Human resources

plus divine,

earthly bounties

are destroyed.

 

While poppies

glow and bloom.

humanity stunts

in gloom.

 

Should we not learn

from these Flanders'

Fields poppies ever

in bloom and with the

glad birds, in the nude

beauty of nature, sing:

Poppy forever?

 

Then, in pain and tears

of destroyed hopes and

loving dreams did I leave

that green land of my birth;

that vast heart of the noble

Niger and benign Benue - those

two radiant rivers on inspiring

ancestral landscapes.

 

I walk this Alpine land

in search of that peace

which passes all understanding.

Would I not find it in the

reassuring bloom of the

precious poppy

flowering flower?

 

Zurich kissed my yearning

feet in glad welcome; and

passed me on to the warm

winter whiff of glorious

Geneva's fresh february

coldness coddling.

 

In April, Geneva

saw me alive.

 

The spring's sprouting

spirit went with me

on a visit to the

graveyard in remembrance

of those brave souls who

lie in Flanders' Fields

and elsewhere:

 

---   

[present tense

narration]

--- 

 

On a walk through

lofty Loex's woods,

side by side with

the river Rhone,

 

I come to you,

graveyard, to wonder

at these souls lying

here.

 

You walked with us.

You came with us.

You breathed of this

earth.

 

Now, in silence,

you lie still in

this graveyard,

sleeping on green

earth.

 

I wonder at you,

grey tombstone wtih

a cross and rounded

head.

 

I wonder at the

green earth that

now stands on these

bodies that were

once mine.

 

I watch in solemn

thought.

I stand still in

remembrance of you

all who lie here

and in Flanders'

Fields.

 

I too will come

your way.

That way, none

can tell:

 

We cannot tell the story.

We cannot tell the beauty.

We cannot tell the suprise.

We cannot tell the sense.

 

I sit in you, graveyard;

near the war, I sit.

Bees circle my head

and take off to your

flowers, graveyard.

 

In spirit, I watch you

who lie here now.

You walked this earth

like little me.

 

I remember Flanders'

Fields! 

 

I remember Burma

where my grandpa

fought in the trenches.

 

I remember Biafra

where I lost a

promising uncle Victor 

at the war front. 

 

I remember all those

places across the

world where men

lie in graveyards -

slain by deadly hands

of war.

 

In spirit, I watch

you who lie here

now.

 

I watch you in

the silence of

my sober heart.

In you, graveyard,

 

I sit still;

in all mortal

calmness.

Should we not learn

from these poppies

ever in bloom, and

with glad birds in

the innocent beauty

of nature, sing:

Poppy forever;

for you;

for me?

 

Gentle winds walk

my bald eagle head.

Sweet air from the

river Rhone walk

in front of me -

a man in quest for

life;

 

in search of love;

in search of that

hopeful birth;

in search of that

joyful death;

in search of all

natural bounties

and life.

 

I pay homage to you

who lie in this

graveyard.

 

I pay homage to you

who lie in Flanders'

Fields.

 

I deeply remember you

who lie in:

 

Dunkirk,

Katanga,

Biafra,

Angola,

Liberia,

Mozambique,

Zimbabwe,

Rwanda,

Somalia,

Nicaragua,

El Salvador,

Guatemala,

Afghanistan,

Cambodia,

Cyprus,

Iraq,

Iran,

Kuwait,

Korean Peninsula,

Vietnam,

United States of America, 

Mexico, 

Israel,

Palestine,

Middle East,

India,

Pakistan,

Kashmir,

Tajikistan,

Cambodia, 

Sudan

Libya

Georgia,

Abkhazia,

Sierra Leone,

Falkland Islands,

The former Yugoslavia 

Liberia: 

and all other places

with bloody trails

of war and human

conflict, globally!  

 

I pay homage with

peace. 

 

I pay tribute with

that spirit of love

which will always

conquer hatred and

war in the fleeting

minds of humankind.

 

On a walk through

the lofty woods of

Loex, side by side

with the river Rhone,

I come to you,

graveyard.  

 

I have come to be

with you who sleep

here. I have come

to feel with you. 

 

Your flowers are

blooming. I watch

the evening sun

glitter on these

flowers and on me.

 

Yet, in this green

earth, you lie so

still and quite.

 

Only the birds

sing and fly past.

 

Humanity walks you by.

You do not know the

smiling sun on us

anymore.

 

These fragrant flowers,

you cannot smell.

 

I sit still in you,

graveyard. In

contemplation, I

remember you who lie

in Flanders' Fields -

the handsome hope and

home of our poppy

inspiration.

 

Let us care.

Let us love.

Let us keep

faith with the

dead -

our dead!

 

Should we not learn

from these poppies

ever in bloom, and

with the beautiful

birds of God's nature,

sing:

Poppy forever;

for you;

for me;

for our children

and their progenies?

 

Now, I walk this

Alpine land in

search of that

peace which passes

all human

understanding.

 

--- 

 

[present tense

narration ends]

 

--- 

 

Would I not find this

peace in the reassuring

bloom of the precious

poppy flowering flower?

 

Remember, my maternal

grandfather fought in

the jungles and trenches

of Burma, now Myanmar:

 

With the warmness of

that cold harmattan

night, we sat by the

traditional mud hut

kitchen fire.

 

The sweet smell of

the roasting corn filled

the air with the

mouth-watering smell

of the roasting local

pear.

 

The yam which I had

chosen from grandpa's

barn also roasted with

fragrant flavour mixed

with that of the roasting

bush meat.

 

I could not wait to

eat the corn with

the pear; nor could

I wait to dip the

yam or bush meat

into the bowl of

fresh palm oil

mixed with pepper.

 

In great sorrow,

my brothers and I

listened as he told

how friends and loved

ones fell side by side

through the fatal heat

of war.

 

I could smell the

breath of human blood

mixed with mud in

those deadly trenches

of Burma where

uncaring men fought

with one another from

dawn to dusk.

 

Should we not learn

from these poppies

ever in bloom; and

with the inspiring

birds of God's nature,

sing:

Poppy

forever;

for you;

for me;

for our

children

and their

progenies?

 

__ 

 

ii:

 

Crossroad


 

On the crossroad,

down the labyrinthine

path through life,

the journey to you

unfolds.

 

I behold the pastural

path I have to follow.

In the unmarked

cabin,

I meet your soul.

 

I go back to the past.

I go back to the

beginning of a journey

conceived with these

inspiring lush pastures

from the land.

 

That cherishment of

the beginning cuddled

in smiles of motherly

waterfalls embraces

my being.

 

A new clouds walk in.

Fresh dews draw the

marvellous morning to

a towering start.  

 

In the soul that is

mine, I breath of

your caring cation;

life from your

purifying heaven.

 

It is catharsis.

My journey begins

anew.

 

A yeaning in me

unfolds.

 

The moment flees

from me.

 

The present yawns

for a meaning lost

on the narrow road

to this fleeing

moment.

 

Soothing breath is

found.

 

In your heart,

windy waterfall

is met.

 

Life is given.

 

Refreshing hope

is born.

 

A new dawn

screams.

 

I search for your

heartbeat.

 

I search for the

love you hid in

pastural plains.

 

I long to see the

glitter and the

greeness while

dawn lingers.

 

Nothing is lost

on these plains.

 

You walk barefooted

through sands of hope;

just on time, to

fulfill a destiny

in my soul.

 

You walk me through

the dark.

 

You lovingly take

me through those

deadly tunnels in

life.

 

The love you hold

outweighs all!

Love on the

crossroad.

 

Crossroad to

channels of

new discovery.

 

Live is given.

Love is embraced.

 

Your journey in

me unfolds.

 

This good journey

is your name.

 

Crossroad of

discovery and

beginning.

 

Your love makes

me loving on this

journey through

life.

 

Crossroad of

awakening.

Crossroad of

rejuveneration.

 

I behold your

life-giving

road:

 

The caring,

pastural

path

I have

to

f

o

l

l

o

w

!

 

__  

 

iii:

 

The Lamp

 

 

Through dark

roads

and

channels,

a lonely heart

on hopeful

life trail

wander afar

into your

watchful being

 

on

green

garden

glory

In dark woods and

pathways, moonbeams

hide behind grey, blue

clouds on star empty

night.

 

Yonder, on the radiant

river road to noble

nature, blue birds sing

on bloomed garden flowers

to herald the coming of

your lamp.

 

Raindrops journey through

windy woods and nature to

...

::::::: 

::::::: 

 

From my long-hand manuscript collection: 

Flanders Fields 

(c) Ugonna Wachuku 

August 1997 

Geneva: Switzerland  

 

View ugonna's Full Portfolio

Tears of Yesterday

Tears of Yesterday 

 

 

Ugonna Wachuku

 

__ 

 

(c) 1996: Ugonna Wachuku 

 

__

 

Contents:


__ 

 

Dedication  

 

Introduction

 

Part One:

 

Yesterday's Tears 

 

River Road 

 

Flower Landscapes 

 

Raindrops 

 

Urs Haberli 

 

Green Earth 

 

Misty Clouds 

 

Streams 

 

Rainbow 

 

I Found Love 

 

The Farmer 

 

Part Two: 

 

Chinwe 

 

First Meeting 

 

Distant Shores 

 

What does it Take? 

 

The Journey 

 

To the Ridges 

 

Ngozi  

 

Obinwanne  

 

New Day 

 

Love me Again 

 

You 

 

The Stream 

 

Part Three:

 

Streams of Love 

 

Calming the Storm 

 

Ako na Uche 

 

A heart 

 

Dreams 

 

Lonely Soul 

 

Like a River 

 

Living in the Shadows 

 

When Love Calls 

 

In your Eyes 

 

Nobody Loves Me  

 

Farxiya

 

Epilogue

 

The Author 

 

__

 

Dedication

 

To all humankind who have ever

dared to love and care for those

of us living in the shadows in

this beautiful but hurting world!

 

Together, lets make this God-given

splendid earth a better home for

all humanity, our fellow earthly

animals, plants and environment

and our progenies!
__ 

 

Introduction:
__

 

"And now abideth faith,

hope, love; these three;

but the greatest of these

is love."

 

~1 Corinthians 13:13

 

These thirty-five poems represent a deeper part of me

which has found meaning to live and to love. They are

poems that derive great strength and inspiration from

the beauty of nature and from the humaneness of the

loving people I have come across at this period of

my life.

 

With these poems, I yearn to define humanity. I yearn,

indeed, to present some uplifting meaning to the caring

nature of the love I have always desired amongst humankind;

including my heart-felt longing to see mankind's complete

willingness to cherish and protect our earthly environment

for our survival and that of coming generations because in

loving one another, we must be courageously prepared to

protect, sustain and care for our natural environment

globally. This is an urgent task all women and men of

love and goodwill must engage in.

 

These are poems for the brotherhood and oneness of humanity.

They are poems for the realization of our oneness as dignified

human beings created in the image of God Almighty!

Herein, I have paid monumental tributes to all humankind

who have ever dared to love; even to the point of not being

loved in return - to the reality of being spited and asked

to turn the other cheek.

 

This is a special call to all of you out there who have never

dared to love to take up the pleasure and burden of love.

Arise!: Be a soulful part of this great movement seeking to

heal and make much more peaceful and loving our troubled and

tearfully hurting earth. This is a loving call of the eagle.

 

Ugonna Wachuku

March, 1996

Geneva: Switzerland

 

_

 

Part One:
__

 

On these far lands,

I see love.

I see despair.

Today's road is a

tearfully joyful

path to a future

unknown.

 

__

 

1:

 

Yesterday's Tears

 

__ 

 

Today, dawn breaks in

on me gradually.

I behold the glittering

sun and fading moon.

Rays follow my beaten

track. I gasp for breath

on this pathway.

A new day walks on

towards the discovered

city on sunlit abodes.

My life spreads out

like birds' wings on

the clouds.

 

Meaning yawns.

Hope beckons.

Like a river,

you begin watery care

of the earth's hunger

and thirst, just before

the eagle glides in from

our early morning mist.

A new city emerges from

the rubbles of this mind

destroyed:

 

Yesterdays's tears find

meaning in today's laughter.

The windy weather breathes life

into a soul so weak and dying.

In the breath of your heart,

streams water my beings

dry river banks.

 

A brilliance lost comes back.

The eagle in me is ready to

soar, to love and to cherish.

Today, the smile you bring

sows fertile gladness for a

heart forgotten yesterday.

 

Down the village path to life,

riddles and hope; on this road

to your soul, we behold a hero's

sun, stars and moving moon.

The rainbows assuring path

meets us on this new road.

 

My heart trails this native

nature in you. This new day

is full of dreams and hope.

This is a new day created

from soothing tears unbound.

This new day, my yearning

heart will still follow your

rainbow; your life-giving

stream-roads and sky-ways.

 

The caring and overwhelmingly

loving answer to

yesterday's tears!

__ 

 

2: 

 

__ 

 

River Road

 

When birds sing new

songs of hope on the

sad green earth;

when love means something

healing and uplifting

in your handsome heart;

when stars shine

at noon to herald

the name you have;

when dawn overcomes

dusk in the darkness

of fleeting life,

look for the heart

that dares;

look for this heart

that yearns to be part

of the pain from earth's

lowly people.

 

Go in search of the

love you can find.

Search for the meaning

to our dreams of oneness

and peace because you are

this new beginning for the

earth's green hope.

 

Let our hearts be together

on this voyage to the other

side of the sea's sentiment

for life.

 

Lead us to this life of

hope and love for the

earth's yearning poor.

Lead us to the fulfilling

and bountiful river of

found love and care -

this river road to life

unchained...

 

__ 

 

3:

 

Flower Landscapes
__ 

 

Flower landscapes fill

the beauty and refreshing

nature in your being.

Native stories are told

on the beach and you

glitter like the moon

on blue shores.

 

I follow these blue

shores scattered all

over the earth's bossom.

And in my being, a living

light brightens.

 

What other pathways and

dreams can fill my days

and hopes as we try to

find life's breath on

these welcoming,

breath-taking highlands

with flower landscapes?

 

The beauty you left on

the last bridge opens

a new world olf inspiration

and survival for the poor

soul in me. I find your

mothering gateway to the

end of our sorrow.

 

Part of this sorrow

ends with you; yet,

your blue clouds never

depart from us.

 

Teach me anew then.

Let me be part of this

sprouting hope and smile-

this love never giver given.

 

Aha! While we wait for the

beginning, let these flower

landscapes come to you.

Let them begin a treasured

song for the hopeless.

 

Let theses flower landscapes

come to you and to me.

Let the light come.

 

__

 

4:

 

Raindrops
__ 

 

Raindrops.

Waterways.

Windy tears trail my

path on this way to

the land.

 

A shrill cry jolts

my memory back to the

reality of a hurting

world.

 

I see far away palm

fronds on earth's

fading beauty through

your holding heart.

 

Warmness never experienced

covers this vision of

a yearning in me.

This yearning lingers

on you as it winds

its weary way through

the lost land.

 

I walk this land slowly.

I wait to see new moons

emerge from shambles of

lost hope:

 

I met you in the hall.

Eyes walked to the table.

Our hands waited for dawn.

All through the day,

I waited for your

merciful meaning.

I waited for hope

in life; for your

name's caring nature. 

 

I waited for your love

and hope-filled smiles

on lawns so green:

Raindrops.

 

Waterways.

Windy tears trail my

path - this path to life

and love born anew on far

away lands and longings.

I wait with hope. 

 

I wait with the

brilliant birds' beauty.

I honestly yearn for

your raindrops on waterways

of home and today.

 

Will you, indeed, trail

these tears - these

numerous despair in life?

 

Will your raindrops and

waterways float us into

green pastures and meadow

sea shores?

 

Raindrops!

Waterways! 

::::::: 

::::::: 

__

 

From my long-hand manuscript collection: 

Tears of Yesterday 

(c) Ugonna Wachuku 

Geneva: Switzerland: 1996 

__  

 

View ugonna's Full Portfolio

A short statement

Folder: 
2001

Shadowed in the corner...

Hope, like a dried up well, has disappeared over time.


Author's Notes/Comments: 

The world today.

View twilight_stranger's Full Portfolio
tags:

Heroes

They save people from dying.

The give up their lives

So the people they help

Can live, survive.

They do all they can

To give people aid.

They give people courage

When they are afraid.

They may be a stranger,

A neighbor or friend,

But every good hero

Stays there till the end.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This poem is dedicated to those who lost their lives on September 11 and after trying to save people, all heroes who have died throughout the years, and heroes that are living now.  They are the real people we should thank for getting us through hard times.

View rapjr11's Full Portfolio
tags:

Pinch of Fear

Folder: 
-2- Secular Poetry

Trudging down this worn remote path

Fumigated by mother earth's wrath

The wind grabs me by its futile grip

Flings me around like an old whip



Overshadowing trees eye me as I pass

Creatures giggle and lurk in the grass

Crickets wail my presence to beholders

Headlights denote cars upon the shoulders



With every pinch of fear that I dissolve

My legs scurry faster beyond my resolve

Dirt wraps around my icy cold hands

My mind wonders what lies in the lands



Fear pervades my ears, my throat my soul

I can't seem to free myself from this hole

Frantically I dig but I get covered more so

Spirits howl with rapture at my undying woe



Gasping for air and truth from within

Suddenly I notice warmth in the wind

Her hair is of gold and flutters like the sea

She speaks "if you want life, reach out to me"



"But if you deny love, forget all mirth

And if be it so, I'll pray your rebirth."

The words spin around in my inutile mind

Debating my fate with a surreal design



I yearn for her hand but dread to look back

I want to live again, but there's something I lack

Her eyes twinkle profoundly like crescent moons

Her aura is mute but I'm drawn to her rune





Pleading for help I cannot decide

I've to do something no more will I hide

Awaiting patiently above the rift

Realizing that I'm starting to drift



Mother earth yells with a distinct helpful roar

By lighting the sky to show me what soars

Heaven submerses the sky in ravishing form

And guides me to conquer my innermost storm



Immediately I reach out to take a hold of my friend

Disregard all worries, which die anyway in the end

Her hand felt like silk as it touched mine

Lifted me up and revealed what was in-line



At last I'm liberate, no longer recluse

My heart is discovered and finally in use

View nomes2riches's Full Portfolio
tags:

Someday

Someday I’m going to make my move

Someday I’m going to make it happen

Someday I’m going to catch my groove

Someday I’m going to wake up laughin’



But today there are only fears

A broken down engine in a car full of beers

If today was tomorrow, I’d know what to do

I’d know why I can never catch up to you



Someday today will be tomorrow

Someday when I am feeling used

Someday I’ll wake up crying

Knowing that it’s me I abuse

Author's Notes/Comments: 

someday folks... just not today... or tomorrow... just... someday

View sirknight's Full Portfolio
tags: