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Gordon Orowo Onyaitern

Gordon Orowo Onyaiteru

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Flower in the sun-se
The otherside of night
Africa
Building from the past
Love for all
Who Are We To Blame
Just a Thought
Face-Book Girl

Flower in the sun-set

The flower in the sun-set that must be visited daily and watered with the ocean of love rise like the morning sun and journey no-more for in rising you give strenght to my very being please stay beside me like Canada-America for inside you were before taking out from myside to be by my side oh, what a beautiful damsel how I love to call your name though unknown to me but one thing i know you are the radiant flower in the sun-set.

The otherside of night

How I love to see come though in you are hidden all atrocities of life humanity hates to see your face for you are the nightmares in-between a wonderful dream a monster with murderous threats sometimes you become morning to facilitate our mourning but i am not afraid for i know who you are daily, I wait earnestly with eyes open as the sky to behold the sight of your beauty and the tranquility of your atmosphere which neither day nor noon could give behold the otherside of night.

Africa

Mediator
Africa "Ekaro..." I mean goodmorning
I' ve come not because you summoned me
But because there is a plague in the village
Flying like flies all over the sky
Africa
Who are those behind you clothed with wailing
Are they disease infected or...
What' ve they come to do, this place is holy
Mediator
Africa...These ones are your children
And I must also tell you that
I' ve summoned even our ancestors
To make this hearing an open heaven
They want to know why so many feeding bottles
When they can masticate their food
They are naked as the sunset
Yet in you are the finest of timbers
Well, I' ve to move with the wind
And do business across the seas
Africa
Ummm, don't leave them here
Take them along with you and I will...
Mediator
And you will what?
Today and tonight they will nest with you
You and your graveyard palace
Hmmm, well tomorrow I will come
To see how they are faring
"Odabo..." I mean goodbye for now.

Building from the past

Yes, I was a boy; tender in age.
Always yearning for a yuletide voyage to behold the beauty of my lovely village,
where infants run on naked soles unhurt,
happily sleeping in numbers in a tiny hut.
See them gather together for the moonlight tales,
accompanied by the songs of the nightingales.
They are anxious in spirit for the morning stream,
just to go swimming as a youthful team.
Such was the tradition of the olden days.

There would be rumbling from a distance
to liberate women from busy hands;
to herald the king in his noble dance,
out and back into the royal palace.
For festivals as rich as these,
the gods themselves are blissfully appease;
to cause the earth that is fully pregnant
to birth a harvest of overflowing basket.
For with much thanks,
they embrace one another with mouths of praise.
Such was the tradition of the olden days.

Therefore, let us build our Rome
which we can proudly christen a home.
With streets ever beautifully luminous
to invoke sleep upon our children with dreams so sweet.
Let us balm, if any, the wounded soul
and strive hard to reach our goal.
For the good of it will come to all
and we shall forever stand tall.
Arise! Niger –Delta, it is a new dawn.
Arise! Nigeria, for the race has begun.

Love for all

Love is intoxicating
Though not alcoholic
Love is like vanilla ice-cream
That sometimes make you scream
Love is like an ambrosia
When insufficient causes a dementia
Love will come to us all
Be you short or tall
But, where you sit on the patio
Giraffe on the coming shadow
Whether it be Shylock or Antonio
To avert being six-feet below

Who Are We To Blame

Who are we to blame
My forefather once said
"Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold"
Fingers are raised accusingly at one another
Like a double-barreled masterpiece
Who are we to blame
Is it the western eagle that gave us
The nomenclature Kinta Kunte
Or the hands of our very blood
Which lacerated minds with torture
Who are we to blame
When we incessantly forge whips
Instead of building bridges
We despised anything ever called Khaki
Yet in Agbada, we do monstrous things
Who are we to blame
When we don't want to see beyond the pain
And stop celebrating a feast of blame
In order to garner together the wonderful remains
From which we can produce lots of gains
Who are we to blame

Just a Thought

She's like a dying plant, she's thirsty
She's out there in the world, I know it
I can't hold her, she's slippery
Oh God, please help me; we all believe in something She's neither black nor white Yet speaks all language all right She takes every heart captive The hearts of the weak, strong and mighty.
It's chess, she's my guess
Like a knight, she moves on the board
I can never be bored because she's the boss Everyone desperately longs for her But no one really understands how She's pretty, tender, strong and lovely She lives not only in Paris So we must not be in a hurry She's a mother-father Hold her don't look further Her heart is like the hand of a gentle breeze That touches your face right under your sleeves If you are scared to call her just send her a letter Her name is in the alphabet Her code is 12..15..22..5

Face-Book Girl

Your beauty holds a name called calmness Though you seemed chained, your thoughts are liberal Your beauty comprises the sun, moon and the stars Your looks speak a thousand words Weaving minutes into seconds and then hours Your eyes are searching for something Making other hearts panting Even at death this beauty of yours shall never fade For your stunning physiognomy, hidden in your facial superficial ceremony, shall remain the face of face-book.