Poetry: Eddie Awusi

Eddie Awusi is a Nigerian poet of Isoko extraction. He has been published in various poetry magazines and anthologies. 

Eddie Awusi

ITABOSUWA

She was my warrior queen,
Princess of my past world.
Naive was her royal reign.
Armed with an eye on the world.
Walking through tepid grassland
Of spears, toil, buried breath and aged gossip -
Dismantling a garrison of
Tuareg foot marching fighters.
Her temper was ancient goose,
In a flash of lightning.
Tending love with great value,
Anguish called her, home.
Within a heart that vibrated in it's casement.
I recognise her from the past,
From the foot of creation.
527 years gone and counting,
In a countryside Egypt.
But I died in her hands, Itabosuwa.
My blood dribbled and stirred,
From her immaculate white frock,
Leaving a cesspool of anguish,
In her widowing youthful heart.
My love for her was a road,
With an abrupt dead end.
This underage princess from antiquity,
Now relive her past glory, differently.
All forgotten in a macabre,
In a modern breathless tale of love.
She takes her place,
Beside my merchant self:
A modern Nigerian,
Not knowing the story of our ancient love.

WHEN A MAN DIE

When a man die,
Let him become a star,
Lest, he roams in his void.
His Sapphire soul,
Let it brew ageless fire,
Brightly cliffed and shinning,
On the roof of the sky.
Let him burn scythes,
And high volume of larvae,
In his twilight zone.
Though he ceases to live,
Yet, let him exist,
Illuminating the universe,
With agility and gait.

I SURRENDER

I surrender to earth;
I surrender to the sky -
Vocal shotguns in hands,
Shot up in defiant submission.

I surrender to the seas;
I surrender to the firmaments;
I surrender to life;
I surrender to death;
I surrender to the world under.

I surrender to my innate yearning,
Bathing in the fragments of my passion.
I weave my days into accolades,
Waiting on a speechless thunderstorm.

I surrender to bliss;
I surrender to pain;
I surrender to my distorted infancy:
Evoking a childhood, I never had.

IF YOUR NATION IS A SINKING BOAT

If your nation is a sinking boat,
Do not dismiss her as a failure,
Packing your bags and baggages,
Ditching her for another's glory.
Be within her fold, and plan for a rescue,
Take upon yourself, duties of chivalry.
Nurture her for a better berthing,
In nation building.
Be her life jacket.
Else, you become a nonentity,
In another man's land.

THIS IS HOW THE EARTH CRIES

This is how the earth cries.
Grisly heaving supine breath.
Scolding humanity with catalogue of disasters.
Vomiting roots in gilded squabbles.
Jamming alloys in pensive mood.
Stunting roses on senile soils.
Throttling avidly with a thrusting air.
Erupting volcanoes on frenetic days.
Handing dust to haywire winds.
Earth, humming in a witling quake.
Hurricanes sweeping with devious hands.
Coughing water against hyacinth times.
This is how the earth cries.

Setu, January 2018

Eddie Awusi

Eddie Awusi

Eddie Awusi is a small business owner in Benin city, Edo state, Nigeria. He is a graduate of English and Literature from the prestigious Delta state university, Abraka, in 2007. His works has been published in numerous poetry magazine in Europe, America, Asia and Africa. He was recently published in Dandelion In A Vase Of Roses along side Michael Lee Johnson, Ken Allan Dronfield, among other best minds in poetry across the world. His work has also been published in Voices Of The Aspirants, FM 20, and other poetry anthologies.

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Poems By Eddie Awusi

Eddie Awusi is a Nigerian poet of Isoko extraction. He has been published in various poetry magazines and anthologies. 

Eddie Awusi

NOOSE OF TYRANNY

I am your shame, your broken record.
Whitlow germinating, in your slime -
When a man's love for his fatherland,
Blow up in his face.
I grow up, a weed, another town.
Tasting a new polity,
With head crushing taxation.
I loose my mind, as an execution,
Of a new bye law.

DINING WITH THE DEAD

This is where i have come to dine.
Postmortem hanging on the menu.
A plenipotentiary of the services of worms.
Hot chitter chatter
Of stern looking trolls, pervade the enclave.
They belched after a meal of death.
Yawned and belched again, a fever in Yiddish.
Gazed at me, a clandestine intruder.
No chatter of humans, but muted conversations
Of mouth less ghosts.
Gastric acid running at the guts.
Then I knew it was the wrong company.

I MET A LONELY WOMAN

I met a lonely woman.
To whom hope was a luxury.
She was a maiden to misfortune.
Her dress, an interpolation, of curious eras:
Half medieval, half stone age.
She stood bending, like a moon walker
Tired of this realm of man.
Mid-term of life, her song was soured.
Sheaves of grieves
Were the harvests of her world apart.
Sowing in pain and reaping tares.
I met a lonely woman -
Haggard, bereft and worn-out;
Unkept and disheveled.
Staring like an apparition.
Clutching at life,
with shivering resolution.

DROWNED IN THE PACIFIC

I saw you going,
in a hobbling shuttle,
Of waves and winds.
In dreary dreadful furrow,
Into disdainful waistline,
of heartless high seas.
In hubristic ferries
of guts and indifference.
Then, suddenly this pushcart silence!
What were you thinking,
Duelfully engaging the divine majesties,
Of the deep blue pacific?
Didn't you know, how it is forbidden,
Of mere mortal man, to gaze into the eyes,
Of the versatile sea?
I heard their judgment,
That made the sea -
Your last adventure, death bed, your graveyard.
Passed in a strange tongue,
I picked up among the huldufolk.

I WILL CALM THE STORMS

I will calm the storms
Until you are safe,
and by your seaside fantasies
Teasingly hauling lullabies
On a network of workaholic waves.
I will soothe the nerves
Of this now hostile tide
And work over it's passion
Until you have steered out
Of every danger zones.

Setu, October 2017