Scrap Note

Scrap Note
(Heb 4:13)

Nothing
in all creation
is hidden
       from God.

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

to whom
we are
        accountable.

© 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

Pray The Easter Message

Every season has a story meant to stir the human reason.

Easter isn’t just a rite of passage

but God speaking in due season

to a world straying from His purpose.

No time for fervent praying than now,

that God turn all eyes to the cross,

where His love for the world stands,

offering to all a life like His.
© 2017 Celestine S Ikwuamaesi

By savingwordtracts

Dripping dew

A rumble in the sky, 
a croon dews down at dusk.
In drought, it drips all night, 
at times a light shower, then a torrent; 
thaws crusted hearts behind shuttered doors. 
         Life blooms, flowers at dawn
causing the earth to know no winter 
but spring and summer; and spring 
streaming to summer. I hum 
the rich ballad while my heart croons 
a continuous refrain. I cuddle the lullaby, think
        no more of the dark hours of howling storm. 
Awake, I drip honey, 
        infused with life. So real:
              God’s pristine love.

The world wilts, 
withers from stanching 
the flow of heaven’s dew. 
It loves romance with death, 
stench of blood down the streets;
       death gasps, a melody.
There was once life, 
        and still is! 

His voice rumbles. 
I hear it croon from turrets, 
in booms and blasts; it shrills 
at irreversible drift to a brink, 
        the end of life. 

If cost of arms 
had armed the poor;
turrets of rage aimed at morbid hate, 
love would’ve stanched the flow of death, 
dew down heaven’s tune, flood the earth 
        with sweet refrain.
© 2016 Celestine S. Ikwuamaesi

By savingwordtracts

Pursuing The Wind

The world has nothing to offer
those who have the time to ponder,
muse over its shade of wonder
that lures most humans to wander
till they slip, tumble over yonder,
and face God’s eternal anger.

He’s laid the world fairly bare,
that the wise may be aware 
that world’s glory fleets away
like morning dew in sun’s ray,
that nothing should make them sway
from following the strait way.

Soon God will suddenly freeze
the time he gave us on lease;
then will glamor slip with ease
as heat melts a bar of cheese,
fading all we hug with glees,
life of ease and worthless fees. 

© 2016 Celestine S. Ikwuamaesi 

By savingwordtracts

While waiting

The one I long to see,
like him I strive to be; 
though there be wear and tear,
the prize, I know, is dear.

I dare not ever flinch,
plodding to gain an inch;
for when the stake is high,
I bid fear and doubt bye.

The flesh shall surely fail,
but Grace shall help me sail.
By fair wind of faith I 
wing to the peak—the sky.

Though trough and crest may crawl,
with no one shall I brawl.
In the furnace heat, gold 
finds its glory on hold.

The one I long to see,
Like him I sure must be.

© 2016 Celestine S. Ikwuamaesi

By savingwordtracts

Life

Life begins in the womb.
        We’re born to live
                while death lurks;
                        life and death,
                                closet friend and foe.

Life prods our rise,
        death, our fall;
                 each, a sneaky move,
                         claims a right.

Life like a stream flows, 

leased in years,
                in months,
                        in weeks,
                             in days.

Every hour counts,
yea, every minute,  

the last second at 90.

Death shouts Hurrah!
        Life moves on,
                humming 
                        a victory song:

Jesus, my life, lives!
© 2014 Celestine S. Ikwuamaesi

By savingwordtracts