GEORGE AMADI

GEORGE AMADI Poems

Barely fifteen painful years
gone by,
maybe less, the second time
it was stood I
...

Of things great by folks loved aglow,
among them, baked beans by Heinz,
no real delight like a good old Benz,
fact, wherever it goes, that's in tow.
...

An African night from which
At last,
A colossus exited,
Alas, mourning unrestrained,
...

'Left, right, left, right...',
that, I liked,
My self-esteem at King's
it surely hiked.
...

Tucked away from Main Street,
my retirement abode,
atop a two-storey
ramshackle,
...

Tufts, which from my unshaven face grew,
Mocked by a mirror worn over time,
Yet, in the morning sunshine
Basked in the rays of light,
...

7.

Life can be good anywhere, so says a gist;
How it goes, is what you make of it.

To be born with a silver spoon;
...

Barely five, Mmam to Ebute-Ero Market with obstinacy sent me,
A jute bag of garri worth one pound brought home required of me
On my return; taking, it would seem, kidnapping, rife at the time,
Not into consideration, expected me, as well, to buy her thyme.
...

Buffeted by a dingy bar and a run-down building,
Hair-dressing salon, in one disused container set,
Not a few gals of appearance conscious, attracts;
Unwise men nearby quaffing beer, object of focus.
...

Climate change every clime ravages
Refugee in shock from fertile land flees
Skirmish outbreak hatred ignites
Relief camp up here and there springs
...

"Oh, Messi, Ah, Messi, " lost chances prompting,
He would carry the day not a few fans wishing,
2014 World Cup final tackles reckless getting,
Each passing moment hue and cry mounting,
...

My sweet mother, every morning, bright and early,
At an altar her children and wards led in prayer,
After which, behind every ear scrubbed clean.
Dressed and fed, each, a happy song singing,
...

Were it possible my mother to have
with me one more time, a lot more
chores would I undertake, unasked,
wanting to do more, if she'd let me.
...

Ijeoma's thoughts freely
A course wildy ran
Mercilessly, logic, time
Crushing
...

Three frail-looking, seven-year-old boys,
Lost for words in a brutal, costly war,
Living from hand to mouth,
Day by day, at check-points grovelling,
...

Lazy bones never on thoughts chew
that nearly not as a surprise comes,
so, when misery calls, from a tissue of lies, junk, here comes in crumbs.
...

Which was more fun, Mrs. Langton's
Geography class, or, that she was
from Australia, yet, what she knew
about Down Under's sheep rearing
...

Eleven hours' flight to America, Lord,
atrocious, stormy weather, my word.
But the view from Pan Am, nice load,
when over the Atlantic, JFK showed
...

Big Apple like a beer glass gleamed;
snowed-in roads laid froth-brimmed.
Along snaked chained tyres locked,
by sweet carols' sing-along mocked.
...

When unsure how things would go,
afraid, I did not a chance stand,
for days on end my plan on hold sat,
moment of truth awaited to restart
...

The Best Poem Of GEORGE AMADI

Lovely Lilian

Barely fifteen painful years
gone by,
maybe less, the second time
it was stood I
choking,
fighting back tears
unsuccessfully trying,
at the remains of someone,
other than
my mother's,
equally dear to me, since
Nineteen Sixty-Three,
staring.

I couldn't help chuckling
on sighting
a beloved one,
my favourite younger sister,
a friend beyond compare,
Lilian,
lovely lass,
generous,
of hurts easily oblivious,
brilliant, sublime, charismatic,
yet self-effacing,
and a rare presence
of mind commanded,
sickness and pain with
courage bore,
she never thought I'll bury,
alas, from
out of the blue,
serenely in a coffin
inexplicably
lying at
an Air Force Base morgue,
vividly
our last hug
one year ago or so
recalling,
mysteriously, back at me
now a wry smile
smiling.

I, awkwardly, the one standing
alone,
she, eloquently,
with angels and saints
sweet melodies
delightfully,
to The One from whom
nothing is hidden,
singing,
sweet memories
of her
gentle soul,
then my saddened
heart
flooded, and sadly, unlike
in mum's case,
time,
the luxury of properly
saying
our good-byes
to grant us
chose
not to.

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