The Skyline

Has the sun slumped into slumber,
rolling in the pangs of easy death,
lulled, denied of a lease of life?
When does this hopelessness halt,
help dew down, so we stir and see
the skyline smile us to a future?

Our hope’s been to build a nation,
blooming like morning rose,
smiling, a summer sunflower
dancing, waving in the wind.
Our hope’s been to clear the heavens,
the sky cloudless for eagle’s flight,

and so spray peoples with what we are:
light and salt of nations.

Alas!​ the rose wilts, the sunflower
droops in depressing drought.
Sky turns sullen, mourning;
countryside and cities scream
at clotting crimson and wafting
stench of a fast searing conscience

not pricked by a clouded morrow.
Daily, our sun sleeps!
Slowly, our future dies!
Daily, dark clouds dip, lowering;
storm rages as waves hump
with fury to burst the dyke.

But we’ve a shoulder to lean on, let
our tears stream.​ He alone will stand,
a dyke–if we play our part–and hush
the stormy waves of death, the reign of darkness.
Hope’s yet awake, hearts open to help.

*Celestine S.​ Ikwuamaesi*
*(March 01, 2018)*

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By savingwordtracts

Love is Life

The day I fell in love with love,
heaven smiled, infused my heart
with beauty.​ I saw rainbow arc
end to end, awakening sleepy stars.

Creation sparkled with colors;
soft tunes drowned booms of death
as people, led by talking drums,
danced away hate on rubbles of war.

The world coalesced, wrinkled faces
wore a golden shade. Dew drizzled
down at dawn, softened earth to bud
in and out of season.​ My song changed!

So, the world, in my eyes.​ Cuddled in love,
I saw sunset serenade the skyline; splashes
of beauty on lush plains, on rolling humps
of landscapes reminiscing the Garden.

What a vista!
What a beautiful world!
What a heart in love with love!

2018 Celestine Ikwuamaesi

By savingwordtracts

Reign of Anomie

Confused world, complex challenges,

contracting earth, climate changes;

conflicting cultures coalesce.

Booms, bangs, shrills, shrapnels

flood the air; blood clots in the street.

Shredded homes float for sheltered

peace: victims of greed that weathered

the world in her wallows. Who dares

pull back lust or freedom marchers?

Who cares for the mammoth flotsam–

dregs of a fractured world that ripples

under quakes and storms to an unknown?

What a pursuit of freedom that leaves

the world in rubbles–her future forlorn!

When restraint relents, lust screams.

Wilting, yet nations hail wealth,

not weather; consumption or ruination?

Impel moderation or hug implosion.

Celestine S. Ikwuamaesi

(Feb 24, 2018)

By savingwordtracts

Just A Thought

I groped and stumbled through the years and woke up early morning groggy, hurting. I peeked out the window, saw the sky bright, the sun smiling. I brightened and borrowed a smile and, for once, lit up my face. My eyes winked like a star in a dark sky; kept smiling through the day. It tasted nice, radiating light and love. You can’t rewrite the past, I thought, nor erase the furrows on the once smooth face. Overwrite it with the future that has a hope, and meet your desire. You’ll soon retire and count among the past. I recalled that God created me in His image and likeness. So, I borrow from Him. He doesn’t recall our past nor rewrite it; but overwrites it with love–blessing and a future. So will I! So do I! Life’s frilled with frown, day and night trail the sun in his course. The sun ever shines, though clouds may dip with a frown! Ever smiles, though thunder may roll and grumble! Eyes on golden rays at dusk, though storm may howl and splash the sky with dust! Two constants rule life on earth: light and love. God’s both…​ and you, too!

Celestine S. Ikwuamaesi
(21/01/2018)

By savingwordtracts

The Last Lap

  • The Last Lap

 

Not on the marks to start the race

but on the lap to brace the tape;

muscle aches soon will cease.

 

Tape beckons the strides;

faith fires the pumping heart

while the crown blinks like morning star.

 

What a treasure the Master promised:

labor of love isn’t in vain for those

who brace the tape, bearing up.

Stride on, press on, ride on wings

of faith; see the tape a leap away,

eye on the winking crown.

 

The promise! The Word stands;

so should the heart nestle

in His unfailing love. 

 

Celestine S. Ikwuamaesi

(18 Dec 2017)

 
By savingwordtracts

A cleft in the Rock
(Exodus 33:21-22)

A place by him to stand on—the rock.
As his glory glides by, he hides me
in its cleft; covers me with his hand
while his glow dazzles, brighter
than a million suns.

The rock, immovable rock—a place
of safety; by his side—warm in winter,
cool in summer. There he shields me
from his glare; from the splash
of his churning wrath.

But God’s slow to kill—rarely does,
restrained by love heftier than hurt
the world heaps up on him. His anger
may boil, drive me mad; a cleft
by his side, wide & deep, yawns

a hide away. Not ready to roil his
heart, he holds back the bile, wishing
I see his strength lies in love;
would let his son clean up the mess:
die for me, so I may live for him.

He knew my form before I was; knows
me now, tender and weak: he, firm.
He framed me of frail dust—tending
me down the way of dust on the wing
of his love till, perchance, I step

on street of gold. His love’s golden,
there for me. And that, by his grace!
I can’t fathom the mystery, for I’m
wilting grass, unsafe in the sun,
save in the deep cleft of the rock.

© 2017 Celestine Ikwuamaesi

By savingwordtracts

A Tiger & A Dear

A tiger and a dear,

slogging out: heaven and hell,

which was real & where. They won’t

let; eyes were red, voices taut.

 

Show the way to heaven, one yelled.

I will; I will, when time’s ripe.

A dark man barged in with a dagger

and a gun, eyes redder than theirs.

 

The room dropped dead as night,

a bell about to toll. Both fled,

one made for the door; the other,

for a window yawning into the dark.

 

Down a dark lonely path, they met,

both panting, eyes bulging.

Are we safe, I saw a crouching tiger?

I saw a dear, lurking at a corner.

 

 

© 2017 Celestine Ikwuamaesi 

By savingwordtracts

The Spirit Of The Sun

 

 

The bee knows where to find pollens;

the spider, how to span a chasm—

      driven, in the blood.

The stream follows the slope,

the way to the sea

      in rustling meander,

gathering moss, throwing gloss.

 

The sun, none can block

      his way, or slow his course

  till decked with a garland

      of golden rose.

             

It’s in the blood,

    in a genetic transmutation

       wrought by the ageless hand

that sculptured

    floating moon and winking eyes.

    

The sun cuts a highway in a jungle,

    drills light in pitch darkness;

       he sucks honey from rock,

draws the ire of fleas in the lea.

 

Cry against the scotching heat,

    but embrace his warmth less

       winter whines when summer

flees for lack of spring.

 

 

 

© 2017 Celestine Ikwuamaesi 

By savingwordtracts