Jazzy Blues - Winter Poems by Ikhide R. Ikheloa
- By Ikhide R. Ikheloa (Nnamdi)
- Published May 21, 2005
- Poetry
-
Rating:
Ikhide R. Ikheloa (Nnamdi)
Ikhide R. Ikheloa has written some of the most popular articles on this website and the Internet today under his pseudonym "Nnamdi." Ikheloa who calls his writings "moonlighting" also writes poetry.
View all Entries by Ikhide R. Ikheloa (Nnamdi)
The river is not the same river
That was here
When I held you close.
The river is gone.
The secret is here
The river is gone.
The secret is here
The river is gone.
And the river
Is not deep enough
To hold our secret.
Nando's Song
You held my hand
And giggling we crossed
Crossed the four corners of darkness
Kicked to Olokun's bosom
The sacrifice to nonchalant gods
White chalk
White cock
White chalk
White yam
Red palm oil
Four pennies
Empty bottle of Fanta
I will hold your hand
And together we will cross
This junction of darkness.
This Planet, That Planet, This Planet
This Planet
Sitting by your lake
Swan that went away
The same water molecule
Keeps coming back
Keeps kicking teasing my sad toes
Perhaps, there is hope
And you will come back?
- It is good to see you.
- It is good to see you too. You look well
- You look unhappy.
- I am not unhappy. All is well. Everything is as it should be.
- So look me in the eyes.
- It's all right, you worry too much, I am well. The heart is not as light as it should be, that's all.
- Look me in the eyes. Are you crying?
Silence. Silence mocks the lies that shield the heart's shame. Startled fish dart in and out of mute rocks, searching for shields. The silence screams for help.
Silence.
- I am going home.
- You are going? home to where?
- Home, home to Nigeria
- I see?
Silence. Silence mocks the lies that shield the soul's sadness. And startled fish dart in and out of mute rocks, searching for shields. The silence screams for help.
- I have told you before, we are at war, we are soldiers, and we must be strong or we die.
- Stay. Don't go.
- I must go home. Exile hurts, and I don't want to stay anymore.
- Stay. Don't go.
Song of the Dreamer
If I close my eyes, to the things I see, that I don't understand,
If I bathe in anger, in the darkness that hurts, then soothes,
Perhaps, the truth will stay, stay, stay, until I take it.
But what will I do?
My eyes won't close; the mind won't go to sleep,
It is hungry for answers to her questions?
So what should I do?
If I close my eyes, to the things I see, that I don't understand,
If I bathe in anger, in the darkness that hurts, then soothes,
Perhaps the truth will stay, stay, stay, until I take it
But what will I do?
My eyes won't close, the mind won't go to sleep
It is hungry for answers to her questions?
So what should I do?
I don't want to close my eyes, to the things I see, that I don't understand,
Because if I stare at these things long enough
Perhaps the answers will come cascading down
Out of the mouth of darkness.
Interlude. Murtala Muhammed International Airport. Ugly edifice for a mass murderer. The Harmattan winds wash my face dry and hand me a chewing stick. Is that Marvin Gaye pouring his pain out on my father's gramophone? And the policeman with the skin plastered over dry bones said 'Welcome home to Nigeria.' And my heart asked, "Why did you come home to this?"
- Your hair looks nice.
- I am glad you like it. I made it for you.
- You lie. You made it for your husband.
- I made it for you.
They sat there on the bed each saying nothing. After all these years away from Nando, he could still tell when she was going to cry. Her eyes were glistening and soon her body was shaking gently, the tears were streaming down and she was sobbing quietly, gently. Perhaps, he thought, he should have never come to see her.
- You did not write me. You said you would come for me.
- I have missed you every day. America has been hard on me and I didn't want you to be part of the suffering. It hurt so much but I could not get you out of my mind. In the depths of the winter I would stay in my room and dream of coming home to you. I couldn't get you out of my mind, but I was too ashamed to write. What could I write about? There was nothing here to write about, America was not the land I dreamt of, and I did not want you to be a part of that dawn.
- Stay. Don't go.
- I have to go. I will be back tomorrow.
He got up and walked out into the dark chilly night and he didn't look back. Her heart wailed, 'Stay, don't go.' But the words stuck in her throat. And like a sweet nightmare her dream vanished as quickly as he had come. She shut the door and cried herself to sleep.
That was here
When I held you close.
The river is gone.
The secret is here
The river is gone.
The secret is here
The river is gone.
And the river
Is not deep enough
To hold our secret.
Nando's Song
You held my hand
And giggling we crossed
Crossed the four corners of darkness
Kicked to Olokun's bosom
The sacrifice to nonchalant gods
White chalk
White cock
White chalk
White yam
Red palm oil
Four pennies
Empty bottle of Fanta
I will hold your hand
And together we will cross
This junction of darkness.
This Planet, That Planet, This Planet
This Planet
Sitting by your lake
Swan that went away
The same water molecule
Keeps coming back
Keeps kicking teasing my sad toes
Perhaps, there is hope
And you will come back?
- It is good to see you.
- It is good to see you too. You look well
- You look unhappy.
- I am not unhappy. All is well. Everything is as it should be.
- So look me in the eyes.
- It's all right, you worry too much, I am well. The heart is not as light as it should be, that's all.
- Look me in the eyes. Are you crying?
Silence. Silence mocks the lies that shield the heart's shame. Startled fish dart in and out of mute rocks, searching for shields. The silence screams for help.
Silence.
- I am going home.
- You are going? home to where?
- Home, home to Nigeria
- I see?
Silence. Silence mocks the lies that shield the soul's sadness. And startled fish dart in and out of mute rocks, searching for shields. The silence screams for help.
- I have told you before, we are at war, we are soldiers, and we must be strong or we die.
- Stay. Don't go.
- I must go home. Exile hurts, and I don't want to stay anymore.
- Stay. Don't go.
Song of the Dreamer
If I close my eyes, to the things I see, that I don't understand,
If I bathe in anger, in the darkness that hurts, then soothes,
Perhaps, the truth will stay, stay, stay, until I take it.
But what will I do?
My eyes won't close; the mind won't go to sleep,
It is hungry for answers to her questions?
So what should I do?
If I close my eyes, to the things I see, that I don't understand,
If I bathe in anger, in the darkness that hurts, then soothes,
Perhaps the truth will stay, stay, stay, until I take it
But what will I do?
My eyes won't close, the mind won't go to sleep
It is hungry for answers to her questions?
So what should I do?
I don't want to close my eyes, to the things I see, that I don't understand,
Because if I stare at these things long enough
Perhaps the answers will come cascading down
Out of the mouth of darkness.
Interlude. Murtala Muhammed International Airport. Ugly edifice for a mass murderer. The Harmattan winds wash my face dry and hand me a chewing stick. Is that Marvin Gaye pouring his pain out on my father's gramophone? And the policeman with the skin plastered over dry bones said 'Welcome home to Nigeria.' And my heart asked, "Why did you come home to this?"
- Your hair looks nice.
- I am glad you like it. I made it for you.
- You lie. You made it for your husband.
- I made it for you.
They sat there on the bed each saying nothing. After all these years away from Nando, he could still tell when she was going to cry. Her eyes were glistening and soon her body was shaking gently, the tears were streaming down and she was sobbing quietly, gently. Perhaps, he thought, he should have never come to see her.
- You did not write me. You said you would come for me.
- I have missed you every day. America has been hard on me and I didn't want you to be part of the suffering. It hurt so much but I could not get you out of my mind. In the depths of the winter I would stay in my room and dream of coming home to you. I couldn't get you out of my mind, but I was too ashamed to write. What could I write about? There was nothing here to write about, America was not the land I dreamt of, and I did not want you to be a part of that dawn.
- Stay. Don't go.
- I have to go. I will be back tomorrow.
He got up and walked out into the dark chilly night and he didn't look back. Her heart wailed, 'Stay, don't go.' But the words stuck in her throat. And like a sweet nightmare her dream vanished as quickly as he had come. She shut the door and cried herself to sleep.