A stilled night
makes me to wonder

the chirping sounds loud
but esoterically and mustering

Sing aloud with kinds of tones
Cricket tiny voices

and big toad voices heard
Their joint coordinations so Amazing

But I ask who taught them
harmony in a group demonstration.

(C)Ibeawuchifrederick,2023.

Come to my mountain
And take what you need
Mercy and grace
Forgiveness and joy

Go to the valleys
Where death lays in wait
Where my child struggles
With pain and deceit
Where the lies of the devil
Seek to destroy

All I have given
To my beloved child
Speak to the dry bones
And bring down my life
Bring down my hope
My healing, my truth

So go now my dear child
In faith and new trust
Obedient in my truth
A servant faithful behold

I hear someone say this,
pointing to the random plants
growing free and wild along the trail.

These “weeds” have flowers of amber,
crimson and violet. Beauty that has much to express,
but maybe too faintly in a clamorous world.

But this is why we love this path.
All the raiment of flora is exactly this; untended,
free to find its way to where it will be
and what it will become in arrangements it chooses.

I wrote a song for the moon
But because I'm a jealous lover
I did not want the stars to hear it
So I wrote it on a note
And gave it to the breeze

Time goes on,
I stay alive.
But as the days pass,
I am standing still,
never changing,
What comes next?
I'm almost an adult now,
In all my prowess,
Yet my child-like mind remains
I find myself,
and I have, found myself,
Unrecognizable
Every reflective surface, shows a Lady without a name,
Picture frames, of a child alienated
I could've been smart.
I could've been something special,

Shaping up
to be an epic epoch
a descent both like
and unlike
others

fall from a promontory
promise so high
some hopes realized
too many more unrealized
knifed in the back

another empire
hacked from without
brought down most grievously
by evil within
spinmeisters driving sin as virtue

truth subverted for political expediency
crime dishonesty
craven behavior
regarded with leniency
to outright endorsement

She is the voice of my own soul,
my sacred, secret sorrow.
The only day for which I long
to dawn on me tomorrow.

As well as breath that beauty breathes
beside the deep blue ocean.
She is a wistful, wild gazelle,
whose grace evokes emotion.

In youth, when silver moonlit beams
all met to merge and mingle,
to form a precious pool of pearl,
she succoured me when single.

The Citizens Prayer
Our leaders,
Who are in power,
Shameless be thy names,
Thy reckoning comes,
For you all have failed on earth,
As it stands in heaven.

Give us this day,
Our human rights,
And forgo acquiring our national resources
As we forgive all evils done unto us,
Seize to lead us into temptation, vicious violence,
But deliver us from suffering, languish.
For thine is the power and glory.
Do hearken and lead us aright

A thousand words unfixed in my head
Repetitions, you don’t know how they end.
Never heard, never spoken
My mind is a barrier to these misheard phrases
Caging me in a loop that’s never ending.
Pauses, darkness, constant hatred and
Annoyance
I don’t care about your impatience
Frustrations, as you ask for repetitions
But all I give you are replications.

Waiting on the promised end times,
the erosion of age absorbs
but does not erase the remains.
They are out there all around us:

Skulls piled high by centurions;
blackened bodies, impressions
scorched into earth by flame throwers
of the Great War. Then,

glazed eyes gaze at the world from those
draped in aprons of skin and thrown
in wooden wagons like human
debris by soldiers of the Reich;