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

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

Scrap Note

Scrap Note
(Heb 4:13)

in all creation
is hidden
       from God.

is naked and exposed
before his eyes;
       he’s the one

to whom
we are

© 2017 Celestine Ikwuamaesi

By savingwordtracts

A Tear For Syria

The nation sprawls, prostrate:
broken limbs, crumbling bodies;
valley of vultures,
cloud of flies,
frisking scavengers.

Victory throws a party for ghosts;
a once boisterous land—
now a silhouette of what was:
a land of the dancing dead.

The victor towers over rubbles,
wearing rueful impish glee.
He stands, stern, gaunt as death,
tight-lipped; grim irony on a face

pondering the weight of victory
as soot settles after an inferno,
soothing the pain of death
paling the pants for life.

Civilization without humanity;
blood turns muddy,
red puddle, and bricks—
homes for ghosts

in a land once of the living.

© 2017 Celestine Ikwuamaesi 

By savingwordtracts

A Moment’s Silence 

Eulogy echoes in a quiet heart
at the death of a beloved one.
In silence, the soul reaches
out where tear tarries

and sigh blocks the mind
from pondering: “Who next?”
The mind floats in space,
the eye reads a one-liner, bold:

A time for everything on earth.

© 2017 Celestine Ikwuamaesi

By savingwordtracts

I Still Love My Love

Don’t ask,
who splashed my daughter
with dungy water?
Don’t ask, what next?
For she indeed is dirty;
not worth my hug.
Awful, she stinks,
a hog wallow——
her beauty all gone.

Swarms of flies find
a spot——a perch
for a trillion legs.
Vultures hover,
crane to swoop on her,
on my beauty.

I’d warned her on the danger——
the hazard of roaming from home;
and the price. I did!
But she failed to ponder
the croons and whooper,
and fell for the lure

of one, who, pretty sly,
cares for nothing
but damage my cause.

She’s been my daughter, still is!
She’s still my beauty, in spite
of the muddy water.
I always see me in her;
time freezes with her,
her eyes, a spell.

So, I, shall clean the smudge.
My diamond shall wink again
and sparkle, day or night.
My rose shall glow, undimmed
by the filthy splash.
I see through the smudge;
the me in her speaks elegantly:
my just essence.

I won’t mind the pain,
the sweat, the blood
to win back my love.
I shall redeem her, take her out,
and give her a clean up.
I shall recover my joy!

I, shall retrieve my lost!

© 2017 Celestine Ikwuamaesi

By savingwordtracts