Spotlighting Pan-African Poetry

Biography

Reincarnation Riddle

Enlarge poem

How many times do
You think you
Have lived?
Blind mole
I am tired of your arguments

Stray in your hole
Keep on laughing
At me –
The soft brown earth is not as thick
As my dense black skin –

I cannot hear you.
I cannot hear you in there
Yet I know you are out there.
Your recurring epitaph
Awaits again:

The grind
Did wring you, it ground you
Pension was indeed
Your resting place.
Your nesting place.

How many times do
You think you
Have died?
Just once more.
Just once more.

Aka Teraka

Featured Poem:

Ode to the Flower

Enlarge poem

The lines of this poem
Upon this quiet Hour
Dedicated, each one of them,
To you, my flower

Human beings can be very unjust
Some are dark, some are blind
She teaches me to ever trust
In the victory of love true and kind

She flows with the rhythm silently
Subtly sets the tone
Fulfils something for everybody
Each feels she is their own

She flows, stands, dances, hovers
Softens hunters, strengthens gatherers
She makes Knights of her lovers
Kings of mere gardeners

Defeats the desert in every heart
An oasis all on her own
Awakens new worlds, reawakens that part
Of me that has turned to stone

Be ever on the look-out for her
Like a watchman from his tower
Protect, when you see her; thus will you know her:
She who flows is the flower

She opens her heart for all to drink
Who bear the natural thirst
She expresses what all lovers think
Because she was the first

An irresistible smile is her crown
Radiating unselfishly
She lifts my spirit when I am down
Gives unceasingly

She arrests with quiet dignity
Humbly proud, vulnerable
Salvation of the concept of purity
Accessible but unsoilable

Natural, normal, ordinary
Caring, healing gem
She flows with her lovers’ and guardians’ story
Encourages, comforts, ennobles them

She awakens tears and gentle smiles
Just by being there
Beautiful above all transient styles
A beauty always and fair

Her lovely whiff, caught from afar
Releaser of the deepest sighs
She is mirror of heaven’s star
Lights up my soul and eyes

She’s nature’s victory over human art
Mightier than pen and sword
Speaks deeply to the human heart
Without saying a word

And has one distinct feminine feature:
In her grace lies her power.
She flows with the currents of nature
That’s why she’s called the Flower…

How does this featured poem make you feel?

  • Amazement (0)
  • Pride (0)
  • Optimism (0)
  • Anger (0)
  • Delight (0)
  • Inspiration (1)
  • Reflection (1)
  • Captivation (0)
  • Peace (0)
  • Amusement (0)
  • Sorrow (0)
  • Vigour (0)
  • Hope (0)
  • Sadness (0)
  • Fear (4)
  • Jubilation (2)

Comments

Your email address will not be published.

Biography

Aka Teraka has been described as “a postmodern polyglot, a man of many forms” who writes in three languages: Igbo, English and German. He is the author of several poetry collections and works of prose.

He grew up in Lagos, Nigeria, and worked for over ten years in the aviation industry before recently turning his attention fully to literature and the arts. He currently lives in Frankfurt, Germany.

Aka Teraka

Biography

Aka Teraka has been described as “a postmodern polyglot, a man of many forms” who writes in three languages: Igbo, English and German. He is the author of several poetry collections and works of prose.

He grew up in Lagos, Nigeria, and worked for over ten years in the aviation industry before recently turning his attention fully to literature and the arts. He currently lives in Frankfurt, Germany.

Reincarnation Riddle

Enlarge poem

How many times do
You think you
Have lived?
Blind mole
I am tired of your arguments

Stray in your hole
Keep on laughing
At me –
The soft brown earth is not as thick
As my dense black skin –

I cannot hear you.
I cannot hear you in there
Yet I know you are out there.
Your recurring epitaph
Awaits again:

The grind
Did wring you, it ground you
Pension was indeed
Your resting place.
Your nesting place.

How many times do
You think you
Have died?
Just once more.
Just once more.

Featured Poem:

Ode to the Flower

Enlarge poem

The lines of this poem
Upon this quiet Hour
Dedicated, each one of them,
To you, my flower

Human beings can be very unjust
Some are dark, some are blind
She teaches me to ever trust
In the victory of love true and kind

She flows with the rhythm silently
Subtly sets the tone
Fulfils something for everybody
Each feels she is their own

She flows, stands, dances, hovers
Softens hunters, strengthens gatherers
She makes Knights of her lovers
Kings of mere gardeners

Defeats the desert in every heart
An oasis all on her own
Awakens new worlds, reawakens that part
Of me that has turned to stone

Be ever on the look-out for her
Like a watchman from his tower
Protect, when you see her; thus will you know her:
She who flows is the flower

She opens her heart for all to drink
Who bear the natural thirst
She expresses what all lovers think
Because she was the first

An irresistible smile is her crown
Radiating unselfishly
She lifts my spirit when I am down
Gives unceasingly

She arrests with quiet dignity
Humbly proud, vulnerable
Salvation of the concept of purity
Accessible but unsoilable

Natural, normal, ordinary
Caring, healing gem
She flows with her lovers’ and guardians’ story
Encourages, comforts, ennobles them

She awakens tears and gentle smiles
Just by being there
Beautiful above all transient styles
A beauty always and fair

Her lovely whiff, caught from afar
Releaser of the deepest sighs
She is mirror of heaven’s star
Lights up my soul and eyes

She’s nature’s victory over human art
Mightier than pen and sword
Speaks deeply to the human heart
Without saying a word

And has one distinct feminine feature:
In her grace lies her power.
She flows with the currents of nature
That’s why she’s called the Flower…

How does this featured poem make you feel?

  • Amazement (0)
  • Pride (0)
  • Optimism (0)
  • Anger (0)
  • Delight (0)
  • Inspiration (1)
  • Reflection (1)
  • Captivation (0)
  • Peace (0)
  • Amusement (0)
  • Sorrow (0)
  • Vigour (0)
  • Hope (0)
  • Sadness (0)
  • Fear (4)
  • Jubilation (2)

Reincarnation Riddle

Enlarge poem

How many times do
You think you
Have lived?
Blind mole
I am tired of your arguments

Stray in your hole
Keep on laughing
At me –
The soft brown earth is not as thick
As my dense black skin –

I cannot hear you.
I cannot hear you in there
Yet I know you are out there.
Your recurring epitaph
Awaits again:

The grind
Did wring you, it ground you
Pension was indeed
Your resting place.
Your nesting place.

How many times do
You think you
Have died?
Just once more.
Just once more.

Comments

Your email address will not be published.