By: Alobu Emmanuel
At The Mention Of Hope
Life,
a pot of
mashed beans,
needs a steady fire
to keep it warm. i am tired.
why has a life like this been given us:
one moment we have arrived. the other moment,
we are far from the shore? for when there is life, hope dies.
Dies,
again & again.
now & then, i find myself
in a well & each time my hands
clench on a brick, i awake to an avalanche.
at the mention of hope, i gather myself & shut my ears. hope?
I
do not wish
that you read this poem.
unless you read it to ashes.
but i swear, i’ll be fine. someday,
somehow, the sweet sun will kiss my skin
again. i’ll arrange myself as a bird. spread my wings
& surrender the rest of my days to the creator’s discretion.
so i sit with the sea once more. see, throw me something. a fish.
a crab. a pebble. but each time my hands get heavy, the line lets loose.
Illusion
I am not me,
me is not you
& that’s truer than true.
I am me,
me is you
& this is true
more than 1+1 equals 2.
I don’t know the me-ness of me.
you say of me what you think me is
oh please,
my thought, your thought—
they’re all breeze
a reflection, not really what is
a mirror, copies
of what we think we know.
So when others may say, “you’re not too good”
know your onion, that’s just their opinion!
what they see & think they know—
an illusion,
all that’s in their head is confusion.
& you, too, when you beat yourself
or say, “I can’t”
you’re talking like an infant, you
don’t know you.
it’s all in the mind— it’s up to you!
you choose to be an ant
or an elephant.
What Are You Angry At?
You say the world hates you
that they gang up & stir you
like stew
everyone’s brutal; everything,
cruel.
but what’s the world, if not
me & you.
Death snatched your dear
one from you.
but what’s the essence of
birth,
if not to live & leave to meet
up there?—
don’t you get?
It saddens me, I can’t be with
the one I love, you say.
but love is love, when time &
space don’t involve.
for love’s not clay
not tomorrow, yesterday
or today.
Your dad left not a single
fortune
you’re not rich or opportune,
you believe.
boy, you’re counting castles
whilst others fold their sleeve.
everyone has the magic to
make their own hive.
Well, I agree, the world isn’t
fair
yet we breathe the same air
match on the same sand
& let same sun tan our hand.
Or maybe the world is fair
maybe just a bit unclear,
i don’t care.
what really are you angry
at, boy?
did someone break your toy?
###
Alobu Emmanuel alias Noble Alobu, is the convener of the Noble Poet Collective (NPC). He’s currently a student of Philosophy at the University of Lagos, Nigeria. Inspired by belief, love and strife, his writings oftentimes, feel like a hug. He is an alumnus of the SprinNG Writing Fellowship. Some of his poems are featured in “Red Penguin Collection”, “Agape Review”, “NantyGreens”, “Eboquills”, “Celestite Poetry”, and “HotPot Magazine”. He believes nature holds a great deal of magic and loves to spend time with his pet chicken, Juliet.
