The Muses

Oh! Great sages of blema

here I come once again

my voice has gone blunt

and in need of whetting

I am going to the forge

to saddle my voice again

at the foot of the brook

where orchids hung from

the nooks of prehistoric oaks

to defy baobab of the savannah.

There is no propitiation here

but the invocation of the sages

here, your salt, honey, palm oil

cola nuts and cowries

I have not forgotten

to bring packages of tasseled lion hackles

I have once wrestled my gourd

from the whirlwind alone

and sustained a mortal scars

as a solitary stipple of prowess.

I call on Tutu, I call Avakpe

Ayidzolu and Agbadzo

neither in distress nor for a war dance

but to guide me to the waterfall

at the sprawling foot of the rainbow

and help me catch the spray

from the eaves early at dawn.

I am the great Hunnour

who does not initiate in the sacred Yeve

for when the head has gone awry

in the omega mood of astral trip

no priests can restore

but only by the wise gods of blema.

That is why I set forth early

at dawn with the dews to wait

at the forge where only gods

and goddesses eat orchids for breakfast

and belch rose petals to soothe

the aching hollow heart of mankind.

The Brain gain

There is a certain new tempo of rhythm

when the old flare of the nomadic is dim

rustling through the thick undergrowths

gnawing at the hearts of African youths

wading through the oceans and high seas

so solemn beyond what the mortal eyes sees

on every valleys, molehills, and mountains

flowing raw from the prehistoric fountains

Nkoyeni’s cryptic urgent clarion home call

gaining momentum without a sigh of a lull.

Rushing homewards is the youth with gains

albeit the hurdles, untold gory joys of pains

multiplying what Africa lost in the bargains.

When the old lofty barns we now overflow

heightens our paces home will never slow

when the sated pastures no longer greener

evaporated is our old naivety of a learner

then comes the seeping away of the brains

which has finally suffocated the old drains.

There is also another great trek of a new flock

whose genes are not part of Nkoyeni’s old fold

these new creeds now speckle the youths’ pluck

in old sojourns as new trophies returning bold

the other new races now migrate on their own

their returning instincts to Africa never disown

where nuclei human first sprouted life abroad

their climate the foolhardy greed had polluted

their panting thirst for cleaner air very broad

the power of forgiveness revenge now uprooted

legendary African spirit to accommodate given

the pillage, rape, indignity, forgotten, forgiven.

And I see a new Africa and a new conscience

ascending from the pit of mediocrity to the zenith

sparkling with magnanimity and true patience

bold sages again to look calm with pride beneath

where the savannahs, rainforests swallow the drought

for the pride lands the rains many gains had brought.

Awaiting Bayes

Oh! What is in the offing for me?

which leaves gnawing anxiety for me?

impatience boils in my breast

without any sign of a little rest

for all the sleepless nights endured

nothing but success to be assured

for all the oil that burnt with the night

to humbly prove many a wrong right.

Oh! The die is already cast

only in prayers to be steadfast

Oh! On this fearful alter of JAMB

I calmly lay like a helpless LAMB

and just like her old twin sister WAEC

many a student’s hope they but WRECK

my failure, my success on these lands

Oh! God, I commit into your able hands.