Amuse: The sunset 

Sometimes I do think the sun was angry when she was hot

People hide underneath the tree branches, some throw down mats

And in few minutes they snore out there fatigue without remorse

They blow trumpets, letting their mouths wobble in defeat

Yet I wonder if by chance the suns heat was responsible, 

As her benevolence was misinterpreted as a queer malevolence

But she did her work and as the day will be soon spent

She must take her heat somewhere else but the snorer must snore


Image by my twelve year old brother, Chijindu Favor Iroegbu who just celebrated his birthday yesterday, 18/01/2018. A cheerful year to him, I wish. 




Family is love, family is the birth place of love

It is a wake of faces; staring, admiring, loving

A bed were we fight with pillows some times

And a glimpse of hope in the darkest of nights


Family is that look through the eye of a loved one

Family is the noise we make when we are all crazy

The reason we run home after a day of sun stress

And a soothing bath that gives a fresh-start fragrance


Family is laughter, a bunch of friends who delight in food

And more who delight in dance, wine and wierd things 

In great times, in sad times, morning, night, all for fun

But we all must begin and end with the family


Family is the dream of a fairy beach house

A collection of stones and pets all about the house

It is the taste of the sweet coconut juice from earth cups

The smell of boiled potatoes and soup for evening meal


Family is trust, made of honor and loyalty, 

A dream come true, a bouncing smiling baby

The taste of orange, a collection of picture albums

And a sense of belonging to the clan


Family is a citadel, a place of warmth and shelter

Designed in the hearts of hearts, the depths of care

Where the pains are sorted with mild words and smiles

And the love of our mother Nature with all she offered to us


Family is the song we sang together around the Christmas tree

The visits of places were masquerades pursue people with sticks, 

A life given to be shared by many wonderful people

And even a greater joy of gathering once in a while

Folklore: Let’s play under the Moon light


Breezes of your presence come to me each evening, with mild rosy fragrance 

The voice of the wind sing with you when you sang of the Nightingale and her lover 

And now it is our tryst, one we waited upon, the one we craved when the sun was here


Now we make haste, for the night will be cold and we must stay near the fire, 

Under the baobab tree our love will blossom and there our tryst play our fancy

The mild air mix with your fragrance and the Night herself has come for a sniff 

Merry evening, one of love, beneath the tree with the moon shining long and bright

But the evening is still young and so will our tales be and the ones others will tell

Let’s play hide and seek as other youth gather for the nights tale

Let’s wait for the youth, lovers to gather

And this night there will be no timidity

Ah!  It must not be this night, no no no… 

And if my wit tries to run I will hold it back… 

But I have not come to watch anyone but you

My jewel, I am your Lion, your forest King! 

And before the night tales are spent

We would have lived our Romeo and Juliet! 

Musing: Observing you

I look upon your face, it shone in the night moon light

In the darkness, where many bodies shuffled about

Dancing, drinking, talking, calling, shouting, but I only heard you

But will you let this light you bring shine in my heart, will you? 

The fine curve of your pouting mouth make me weak

When you smile I feel my heart leap towards you, 

Your hair fall, they fall before my face, hovering about

But I watched it fall, every time, every beautiful moment

So I have made this little musing for you, 

I am hoping to see all smiles this year! 

A Note: Welcome to January, 2018

Please welcome to a brand new year! It’s 7.20AM here as I write. Last year has been a blessing in my journey of the pen, I believe strongly this year will be much better. 
I hope your dreams and aspirations come thru this year. I hope we all have reasons to celebrate. 

A tale of the Christmas Eve


Once upon a time, it was evening and very cold one

For the Ice king was out, on his stroll thru his kingdom

And the Snow witch heralded his welcome; flying before him

Hanging up on trees, weighing down tree branches

Making even huge trees to come crashing down

And painting the whole forest immaculate white

Wood cutters marched home, trying to beat the cold

The snow fell trying to hide the pathways from them


Now the wind made the snow sail, smashing into the faces of the men

Across the frozen lake, a stray hound pack sniffed about

Seeking shelter from the sinister cold which grew with time


‘Ah, ah, ah!’ The wolf pack leader grunted

‘This is monstrous weather, why is the cold so sinister, 

And why is the government not working on it?’

‘The Ice king is angry perhaps’ one of the wolfs replied

As they all sat down with their tails in between their hind legs

‘The Ice king is mad! He is being irrational’ another said

‘I wonder who must be irrational!  The one who hunts others or… ‘

A squirrel was cut off her statement when the pack looked up, 

From another tree, an Owl watched the dramatic wolves as they huddled

The mice living on the tree roots hid away from snow and wolves

And the night was just starting to wake… 


The Night shows mercy to none who sought refuge in her

The inhabitants of the woods knew this very well

The Ice king himself was an admirer of the rocky mountain 

But the mountain has taken no notice of him, she was cold herself

The Ice king will sit for hours, musing over her, wishing up and down

Blowing secret kisses to the wind to send to the mountains side

But the mountain was concerned only with the snow and her cold

From the tall tree tops the doves huhuhu each other

Calling, greeting the snow and her queer emissaries 

Everyone wondered why the night was cold, why it hurt them so


The pathways to the village was covered with thick snow

And the men sought about, lost and eagerly wishing for home;

For the warm mushroom soup awaiting them

And the hot bath and a mug of strong black ale

But the cold night will not let them find their way home

It enticed them, showed them strange caves, apple trees

And the weakling of deers which could have been easy sport

But the men refused all her offers, determined to see their home,  

They climbed trees to see the vast land of white mass

Looking for stray smoke from chimneys or sight of lamps 

Though the wind seemed to take that off their sight too

But once, one yelled with joy as he found a glittering light

And the whole bunch followed him, walking fast in that direction… 


And when the woodcutters made it to the hamlet at last

Walking noisefully through closed gates and homes, 

They counted their good luck out in the fields, 

Trotting faster as their tongue longed for soup


Now from the inn in the village they could hear men sing

Drinking ale from cauldrons, they sang of the white snow

Her malevolence, her treachery, her trickery and her cold heart

They sang of her cold hands and the times it must be intense

And why all; men, flora and fauns must not trust her smiles 


Happy Christmas eve, everyone. I hope you have fun reading this tale.