Dirge At Dawn - Poems by Senator Ihenyen
- By Senator Ihenyen
- Published December 19, 2005
- Poetry
-
Rating:
Senator Ihenyen
Senator Iyere Ihenyen was born in Lagos, but hails from Esan-West L.G.A., Ekpoma, Edo State, Nigeria. He writes poetry, short fiction and engages in literary research. Recognised by a U.K-based organization, Outspoken, in 2006 as 'one of the significant voices in Africa pushing the boundaries of contemporary African Literature.' The late and respected Nigerian editor and critic, Okey Okpa, had described the young writer as his 'future Poet Laureate' in 2008.
While some of his poems have been published in local dailies such as the Daily Times, New Age and Business Times, his early works have also been featured in international anthologies published by the U.K.-based Anchor Books, Poetry Stop, Canada, and the U.S.-based Voices Network, where his poetry has been given special international recognition.
Currently in a full-time Law Degree programme in the University of Benin, Benin City, Edo State, Nigeria, he has been serving as the Campus President of Golden Minds Centre, a youth-focused organisation. With an inveterate interest in Literature, especially creative writing, Colourless Rainbow: Poetry of My Childhood is forthcoming from Coast2Coast, Lagos.
His website
MEMORIES
I
cry
in the
rain
as memories of you
rise
in the rainbow
painting
smiles in the sun...
DIRGE AT DAWN
...at the wake of dawn,
I hear cockcrows
and in the cradle where there are cries of life,
bitter memories are blossoming with the songs by the grave...
as these tears are
trickling
down my eyes,
writing the epitaph of the end
and as my heart throbs away like a dirge,
I know that where lies the cradle
lies the grave...
AN UNTITLED POEM
...I see the dawn,
but without cockcrows to sing
its awakening
....I see the sunrise,
but without butterflies to glide in its
rays of light
...I see the twilight,
but without flights of birds
in the bloody sky
...night-
a moonless sky hunted by a million shadows
...I hear drums without dances and I hear voices without a song
I see the emptiness of the rumbling thunders of a democratic dawn without our song,
our dances
without you and me....
the emptiness of a democracy without the drums of dividends
as this pen writes its end
without ink...
OUR IMAGE
Like
shadows,
we run away from
the moon
who gives us our image
in the
dark of night,
and
so sadly,
see how we stretch and stretch
to follow
the footsteps of those
who believe in
who they are...