The homeless fugitives from the east

 

 
Selected poems

 

 

Three Poems

1. Sunday II

            I ran my father's kiss   
  into a bible thrice

& prayed
it turned blood to bubblegums

        sliced my skin
           to avocado halves

        & a miracle
turned a frying pan inside out

on a candle
                    I rebore in chumming

          of lathers
           candy and apples

Jesus wash his wound 
in lime water

                                  while I draw ghost at night
& break songs from a cherry seed

 

2. (S)he

From an acoustic
you pluck
an apple

Ultra whiffs waft
red bleating
into spheres

he wash a strand
in teasmoke
& weed

Behind a mural
she is a nude 
drawing of orange
water

your feet unlocks
& flares waltz
while whirling
into creamlight

 

3. Fun era

A day in the absence
       of transparent leathers
     — a funeral café or birth —
        there was wine,

to many songs,
       spilled gin
& long spiral smoke
in dispersal in a red room.

gleaming heavy humans
choke the house —
these passive bees

my best me in air
      entered them
      in the kitchen
      & ran back to me

I sew mallows
    from pig skin
    arrange them on grandma's bed
    like fine plaited whorls.

Did not wish
to be found
tucked in a beautiful
blue and white morning

the outline of my bone
transparent in sin —

Covexes apt
to break under
a thread of 
blue light

I was in a wine tumbler
glassy, ice in my ears
churning in orchestra
                  and my intestine
                  spilled itself
                  in an unsteady stream
                  stirring in acid

— Victor Ugwu

 

 

The homeless fugitives from the east

We remember that sad morning,

when the bombs exploded,

when the cold air, suddenly became too hot,

when the flock became wild,

how they ran into the wild.

look! see! The vineyard is still on fire!

look! see! The market stalls is still on fire!

 

We slowly limped,

towards the west we head,

to where the air is still cold,

to where the field is still green,

towards the West,

to where came the bombs, we head.

 

Day and night, with,

blood and tears, with,

hope and patience, we limped,

towards the West we head,

to where came the bombs.

 

We have escaped,

the burning flames in the East,

we have trend,

the thorny paths,

 

We have crossed,

the Rocky Mountains,

we have sailed,

the Sea on makeshift boats.

 

At last! The border we see,

towards the West we approach,

to where came the bombs.

 

At the gate of the West we stood,

we request entry,

we request a stay, at least for a short while.

 

No was their reply,

why no, we asked,

because you are fugitives, they answered,

 

No place for the fugitive,

the East is on fire,

the gates of the West have been shut.

 

We the homeless fugitives from the East

limp about with no place to seek refuge.

 

— E. Unimke Ugbong

 

 

 Be bold and build him

Be bold and build him
He's not good enough for you
Pick up his bones and make him better
Bae is not sufficient to run the world
C-suits demands for bosses,not baes

You are the queen of his heart
You can be better if he owns an empire
Yes,you touch the floor for him
Others will kiss it for a moment with him
If only your unending demands
Would be unending investments

Sister, there's no shame
In making a man
Drop a sweat rather than
Dropping your dignity
In endless make-outs
They won't earn you any worthwhile title
The baes and the sweetnothings
Will never weigh more than
The title deed you own together

The turn-ups and the girls' night-outs
Are heart-lightening moments
But moments come and go, time lapses
But a place to call home always stands tall
Even when you are short of the once glowing skin
And the club lights can no longer shine in your old eyes
Be wise, be bold, build him and broaden your titles!

— William Okello Kadima

 

 


Victor UgwuVictor Ugwu writes from Minna, Nigeria where he's a member of the Hill-top Art Foundation. His works have been featured in various journals both online and in print. He's a photography enthusiasts as well as a lover of music or anything that excapes the mouth of an R&B artist.


Unimke UgbongE. Unimke Ugbong is a poet and a teacher of social studies and global literature. He is currently studying history and international studies at the University of UYO, Nigeria.


William Okello KadimaWilliam Okello Kadima is a final year marketing student at Strathmore university Kenya.

Topic tags: Victor Ugwu, E. Unimke Ugbong, William Okello Kadima, poetry


 

submit a comment

Existing comments

i suggest the second poem, '' The Homeless fugitive from the east'' should be published on a separate page. it contains unique messages, which deals on contemporary issues, the refugee crisis.
ugbongug | 12 July 2017


Thank you for these poems. I particularly enjoyed Victor Ugwu's imagery and voice.
Anne | 13 July 2017


Similar Articles

You beaut country

  • Tony London
  • 03 July 2017

His baseline is country, ridges, lakes, breakaways, songlines, and we are taken along the skylines of his imagination which shoulders its way through the streamers of the players race, colours askew, bursting out into the field of play where we are invited into his game, his rules, goal posts he moves forever, we engage with the master gamer.

READ MORE

Search for the meaning of afterlife

  • Tim Kroenert
  • 13 July 2017

C is waiting for something; for the meaning of his truncated life, perhaps, and of his marriage to M, to become clear. Divorced from linear perceptions of time, he rushes into the future, to witness the cityscape that replaces the suburban neighbourhood; and into the past, where he views the aftermath of the massacre of a colonial family. Amid this in-folding of time, and the evidence of death and transience, the partygoer's nihilistic prognostications echo fiercely. But they do not satisfy the truth-seeking C.

READ MORE