Homage Poems

Popular Homage Poems
Virginia Woolf
by Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu

Have you read the note?
It speaks of the doom of the liquid element.
An inclement weather, grey, and with the fuss of a bleached lightning,
Besieges the tick of the clock.
Must have been a bland Sunday, which retreated
From the temerity of old wine,
Haunted by the lonesome refrains of exhausted hymns.
The belfry yawned loosely....
But quiet crept in like leprosy,
Hanging loops on loam-matted hair, black and fringy,

......

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Añuruedoahu
by Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu

In Biafra, when we drank from the tilting
cusps of dank leaves and washed with the spittle
of cassava,
the sun scorched like hell.

Añuruedoahu*, the oasis of war, like worldly
cowrie, stagnant, yet devoid of rural fetish,
calmed our nerves and built in the altar of
our souls hopes of answered prayers.


......

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In the Calendar
by Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu

My father's house,
an adobe,
mud-and-wattle plus cowrie shell
synthetic mould,
cuddling our miserable, naked feet
and reminding us of the
ascetic nature of our sires...

Incommoding...
Incorporeal upliftments salute us

......

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Recent Homage Poems
Virginia Woolf
by Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu

Have you read the note?
It speaks of the doom of the liquid element.
An inclement weather, grey, and with the fuss of a bleached lightning,
Besieges the tick of the clock.
Must have been a bland Sunday, which retreated
From the temerity of old wine,
Haunted by the lonesome refrains of exhausted hymns.
The belfry yawned loosely....
But quiet crept in like leprosy,
Hanging loops on loam-matted hair, black and fringy,

......

Continue reading
In the Calendar
by Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu

My father's house,
an adobe,
mud-and-wattle plus cowrie shell
synthetic mould,
cuddling our miserable, naked feet
and reminding us of the
ascetic nature of our sires...

Incommoding...
Incorporeal upliftments salute us

......

Continue reading
Añuruedoahu
by Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu

In Biafra, when we drank from the tilting
cusps of dank leaves and washed with the spittle
of cassava,
the sun scorched like hell.

Añuruedoahu*, the oasis of war, like worldly
cowrie, stagnant, yet devoid of rural fetish,
calmed our nerves and built in the altar of
our souls hopes of answered prayers.


......

Continue reading
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