Fragments Out Of The Deluge VIII: But The Sunbird by Christopher Okigbo

BUT the Sunbird –

Listen under the oilbean shadows –

Repeats, repeats,

over the oilbean shadows …

A fleet of eagles

over the oilbean shadows

Holds the square

under curse of their rank breath.

Beaks of bronze, wings of

hard-tanned felt,

The eagles flow

over man mountains,

Steep walls of voices,

horizons;

The eagles furrow

dazzling over the voices

With wings like

combs in the wind’s hair

Out of the solitude,

The fleet,

out of the solitude,

Intangible

like the silk thread of the sunlight,

The eagles ride low,

resplendent… resplendent …

And small birds sing in shadows,

Wobbling under their bones.

So squatting,

A blind dog howls at his godmother –

YUNICE at the passageway,

Singing the moon to sleep over the hills,

YUNICE at the passageway –

Give him no chair, they say,

The crier of the dawn,

Riding with gods and the angry stars

Toward the great sunshine.

Christopher Okigbo

Christopher Ifekandu Okigbo was born in 1930. He was a Nigerian poet and he is today widely acknowledged as one of the most outstanding postcolonial English-language African poets and one of the major modernist writers of the twentieth century. He died in 1967 while fighting for the independence of Biafra.

Transition by Christopher Okigbo

Drop of dew on green bowl fostered

on leaf green bowl grows under the lamp

without flesh or colour;

under the lamp into stream of song, streamsong,

in flight into the infinite –

a blinded heron

thrown against the infinite –

where solitude

weaves her interminable mystery under the lamp.

The moonman has gone under the sea:

the singer has gone under the shade.

Christopher Okigbo

Christopher Ifekandu Okigbo was born in 1930. He was a Nigerian poet and he is today widely acknowledged as one of the most outstanding postcolonial English-language African poets and one of the major modernist writers of the twentieth century. He died in 1967 while fighting for the independence of Biafra.

Fragments Out Of The Deluge V: Upon An Empty Sarcophagus by Christopher Okigbo

UPON an empty sarcophagus

out of solid alabaster,

A branch of giant fennel,

on an empty sarcophagus …

Nothing suggests accident

where the beasts

Are finishing their rest:

Smoke of ultramarine and amber

Floating above the fields after

moonlit rains

From tree unto tree distils

the radiance of a king …

You might as well see the new branch

in ENKI;

And that is no new thing either …

Christopher Okigbo

Christopher Ifekandu Okigbo was born in 1930. He was a Nigerian poet and he is today widely acknowledged as one of the most outstanding postcolonial English-language African poets and one of the major modernist writers of the twentieth century. He died in 1967 while fighting for the independence of Biafra.

Fragments Out Of The Deluge VII: And From Frame Of Iron by Christopher Okigbo

AND FROM frame of iron

came HE,

In mould of iron …

and he ate the dead lion,

and was within the corpse …

which is not the point;

And who says it matters

which way the kite flows,

Provided movement is around

the burning market,

The centre-

So lilies

Sprouted from rosebeds,

Canalilies,

Like tombstones from pavements;

And to the cross in the void

came pilgrims,

Came floating with burnt-out tapers:

Past the village orchard

where FLANNAGAN

Preached the Pope’s message,

To where drowning nuns suspired,

Asking the KEY-WORD from stone,

and he said:

To sow the fireseed among grasses,

and lo,

To keep it till it burns out …

Christopher Okigbo

Christopher Ifekandu Okigbo was born in 1930. He was a Nigerian poet and he is today widely acknowledged as one of the most outstanding postcolonial English-language African poets and one of the major modernist writers of the twentieth century. He died in 1967 while fighting for the independence of Biafra.

Sacrifice by Christopher Okigbo

Thundering drums and cannons

in palm grove:

the spirit is in ascent.

I have visited,

on palm beam imprinted

my pentagon –

I have visited, the prodigal…

In palm grove

long drums and cannons:

the spirit in the ascent.

Christopher Okigbo

Christopher Ifekandu Okigbo was born in 1930. He was a Nigerian poet and he is today widely acknowledged as one of the most outstanding postcolonial English-language African poets and one of the major modernist writers of the twentieth century. He died in 1967 while fighting for the independence of Biafra.

Lustra by Christopher Okigbo

So would I to the hills again
so would I
to where springs the fountain
there to draw from
and to hilltop clamber
body and soul
whitewashed in the moondew
there to see from

So would I from my eye the mist
so would I
through moonmist to hilltop
there for the cleansing

Here is a new-laid egg
here a white hen at midterm.

Christopher Okigbo

Christopher Ifekandu Okigbo was born in 1930. He was a Nigerian poet and he is today widely acknowledged as one of the most outstanding postcolonial English-language African poets and one of the major modernist writers of the twentieth century. He died in 1967 while fighting for the independence of Biafra.

Fragments Out of the Deluge X: But at The Window by Christopher Okigbo

BUT at the window

Outside

at the window,

A shadow –

Listen. Listen again under the shadow…

Give me a spooknif, and shave my long beard …

The Sunbird sings again

From the LIMITS of the dream,

The Sunbird sings again

Where the caress does not reach,

of Guernica,

On whose canvas of blood,

The newsprint-slits of his tongue cling to glue…

& the cancelling out is complete.

Christopher Okigbo

Christopher Ifekandu Okigbo was born in 1930. He was a Nigerian poet and he is today widely acknowledged as one of the most outstanding postcolonial English-language African poets and one of the major modernist writers of the twentieth century. He died in 1967 while fighting for the independence of Biafra.

Bridge, a poem by Christopher Okigbo

Bridge

I am standing above you and tide

above the noontide,

Listening to the laughter of waters

that do not know why:

Listening to incense…

I am standing above the noontide

with my head above it,

Under my feet float the waters:

tide blows them under.

Christopher Okigbo

Christopher Ifekandu Okigbo was born in 1930. He was a Nigerian poet and he is today widely acknowledged as one of the most outstanding postcolonial English-language African poets and one of the major modernist writers of the twentieth century. He died in 1967 while fighting for the independence of Biafra.

Eyes Watch the Stars by Christopher Okigbo

Eyes open on the beach,

eyes open, of the prodigal;

upward to heaven shoot

where stars will fall from.

Which secret I have told into no ear;

into a dughole to hold,

not to drown with –

Which secret I have planted into beachsand;

now breaks

salt-white surf on the stones and me,

and lobsters and shells in

iodine smell —

maid of the salt-emptiness,

sophisticreamy, native,

whose secret I have covered up with beachsand.

Shadow of rain

over sunbeaten beach,

shadow of rain

over man with woman.

Christopher Okigbo

Christopher Ifekandu Okigbo was born in 1930. He was a Nigerian poet and he is today widely acknowledged as one of the most outstanding postcolonial English-language African poets and one of the major modernist writers of the twentieth century. He died in 1967 while fighting for the independence of Biafra.

Overture by Christopher Okigbo

Before you, mother Idoto,

naked I stand,

before your watery presence,

a prodigal,

leaning on an oilbean,

lost in your legend…

Under your power wait I

on barefoot,

watchman for the watchword

at heavensgate;

out of the depths my cry

give ear and hearken.

Christopher Okigbo

Christopher Ifekandu Okigbo was born in 1930. He was a Nigerian poet and he is today widely acknowledged as one of the most outstanding postcolonial English-language African poets and one of the major modernist writers of the twentieth century. He died in 1967 while fighting for the independence of Biafra.

Lament of the Flutes by Christopher Okigbo

TIDEWASH… Memories

fold-over-fold free-furrow

mingling old tunes with new.

Tidewash…..Ride me

memories, astride on firm

saddle, wreathed with white

lillies & roses of blood…..

Sing to the rustic flute:

Sing a new note…

Where are the Maytime flowers,

where the roses? What will the

Watermaid bring at sundown,

a garland? A handful of tears?

Sing to the rustic flute:

Sing a new note…

Comes Dawn

gasping thro worn lungs,

Day breathes,

panting like torn horse –

We follow the wind to the fields

Bruising grass leafblade and corn…

Sundown: I draw in my egg head.

Night falls

smearing sore bruises with Sloan’s

boring new holes in old sheets –

We hear them, the talkative pines,

And nightbirds and woodnymphs afar off…

Shall I answer their call,

creep on my underself

out of my snug hole, out of my shell

to the rocks and the fringe for cleansing?

Shall I offer to Idoto

my sandhouse and bones,

then write no more snow-patch?

Sing to the rustic flute.

Sing a new note.

Christopher Okigbo

Christopher Ifekandu Okigbo was born in 1930. He was a Nigerian poet and he is today widely acknowledged as one of the most outstanding postcolonial English-language African poets and one of the major modernist writers of the twentieth century. He died in 1967 while fighting for the independence of Biafra.

The Stars Have Departed by Christopher Okigbo

The stars have departed

The sky in a monocle

Surveys the world under

The stars have departed

And I- Where am I? ?

Stretch, stretch O antennae,

To clutch at this hour,

Fulfilling each movement in a

Broken monody

Christopher Okigbo

Christopher Ifekandu Okigbo was born in 1930. He was a Nigerian poet and he is today widely acknowledged as one of the most outstanding postcolonial English-language African poets and one of the major modernist writers of the twentieth century. He died in 1967 while fighting for the independence of Biafra.

Fragments Out of The Deluge IX: And to Us They Came by Christopher Okigbo

AND TO US they came –

(Malisons, malisons, mair than ten)

And climbed the bombax

and killed the Sunburn.

And they scanned the forest of oilbean,

its approach,

Surveyed its high branches…

And they entered into the forest,

And they passed through the forest,

oil oilbean,

And found them,

the twin-gods of the forest:

The grove was damp with airs,

with airs

the leaves,

And morndew beckoned, beckoned afar

from the oilbean trees,

From the branches of the gods of IRKALLA.

Within it –

within me –

Not a stir,

not a dead leaf whispered,

Splitting the dawnlit silence;

Not the still breath of the gods of IRKALLA.

Then the beasts broke –

(Malisons, malisons, mair than ten)

And dawn-gust grumbled,

fanning the grove

Like a horse-tail-man,

like the handmaid of dancers,

Fanning their trembling branches.

Their talons,

they drew out of their scabbard,

Upon the tree trunks,

as if on fire-clay,

Their beaks they sharpened,

And spread like eagles their felt-wings,

and descended,

Descended upon the twin-gods of IRKALLA.

And the ornaments of him,

And the beads about his tail;

And the carapace of her,

And her shell,

they divided.

And the gods lie in state

And the gods lie in state

without the long-drum.

And the gods lie unsung

And the gods lie

veiled only with mould,

Behind the shrinehouse.

Gods grow out,

abandoned;

And so do they…

Christopher Okigbo

Christopher Ifekandu Okigbo was born in 1930. He was a Nigerian poet and he is today widely acknowledged as one of the most outstanding postcolonial English-language African poets and one of the major modernist writers of the twentieth century. He died in 1967 while fighting for the independence of Biafra.

Passion Flower by Christopher Okigbo

And the flower weeps

unbruised,

Lacrimae Christi,

For him who was silenced;

whose advent

dumb bells in the dim light celebrate

with wine song:

Messiah will come again,

After the argument in heaven;

Messiah will come again,

Lumen mundi…

Fingers of penitence

bring

to a palm grove

vegetable offering

with five

fingers of chalk.

Christopher Okigbo

Christopher Ifekandu Okigbo was born in 1930. He was a Nigerian poet and he is today widely acknowledged as one of the most outstanding postcolonial English-language African poets and one of the major modernist writers of the twentieth century. He died in 1967 while fighting for the independence of Biafra.

Limits III: Banks Of Reed by Christopher Okigbo

BANKS of reed.

Mountains of broken bottles.

& the mortar is not yet dry …

Silent the footfall

Soft as cat’s paw,

Sandalled in velvet,

in fur

So we must go,

Wearing evemist against the shoulders,

Trailing sun’s dust saw dust of combat,

With brand burning out at hand-end.

& the mortar is not yet dry …

Then we must sing

Tongue-tied without name or audience,

Making harmony among the branches.

And this is the crisis point,

The twilight moment between

sleep and waking;

And voice that is reborn transpires,

Not thro’ pores in the flesh,

but the soul’s back-bone.

Hurry on down –

Thro the high-arched gate –

Hurry on down

little stream to the lake;

Hurry on down –

Thro the cinder market –

Hurry on down

in the wake of the dream;

Hurry on down –

To rockpoint of CABLE

To pull by the rope

The big white elephant …

& the mortar is not yet dry

& the mortar is not yet dry…

and the dream wakes

and the voice fades

In the damp half light

like a shadow,

Not leaving a mark.

*Cable: Cable Point at Asaba, a sacred waterfront with rocky promontory, and terminal point of a traditional quinquennial pilgrimage.

Christopher Okigbo

Christopher Ifekandu Okigbo was born in 1930. He was a Nigerian poet and he is today widely acknowledged as one of the most outstanding postcolonial English-language African poets and one of the major modernist writers of the twentieth century. He died in 1967 while fighting for the independence of Biafra.

Fragments Out Of The Deluge VI: He Stood In The Midst Of Them All by Christopher Okigbo

HE STOOD in the midst of them all

and appeared in true form,

He found them drunken, he found none

thirsty among them.

Who would add to your statue,

Or in your village accept you?

He fed them on seed wrapped in wonders,

And deemed it a truth-value system,

Man out of innocence,

And there was none thirsty among them.

Dots and brackets,

The model is not far off …

They cast him in mould of iron,

And asked him to do a rock-drill:

Man out of innocence-

He drilled with dumb bells about him.

And they took the key off

And they hid the key of …

that none may enter.

And they took the hot spoils off the battle,

And they shared the hot spoils among them:

Estates among them;

And they were the chosen

mongrel breeds,

With slogan in hand, of

won divination …

And you talk of the people,

And there is none thirsty among them.

Christopher Okigbo

Christopher Ifekandu Okigbo was born in 1930. He was a Nigerian poet and he is today widely acknowledged as one of the most outstanding postcolonial English-language African poets and one of the major modernist writers of the twentieth century. He died in 1967 while fighting for the independence of Biafra.

Distances by Christopher Okigbo

(1964)

FROM FLESH into phantom on the horizontal stone I was the sole witness to my home coming…

Serene lights on the other balcony: redolent fountains bristling with signs –

But what does my divine rejoicing hold? A bowl of incense, a nest of fireflies?

I was the sole witness to my homecoming…

For in the inflorescence of the white chamber, a voice, from very far away, chanted, and the chamber descanted, the birthday of the earth, paddled me home through some dark labyrinth, from laughter to the dream.

Miner into my solitude, incarnate voice of the dream, you will go, with me as your chief acolyte, again into the ant-hill…

I was the sole witness to my homecoming…

Christopher Okigbo

Christopher Ifekandu Okigbo was born in 1930. He was a Nigerian poet and he is today widely acknowledged as one of the most outstanding postcolonial English-language African poets and one of the major modernist writers of the twentieth century. He died in 1967 while fighting for the independence of Biafra.

Limits I: Suddenly Becoming Talkative by Christopher Okigbo

SUDDENLY becoming talkative
like weaverbird
Summoned at offside of
dream remembered

Between sleep and waking,

I hang up my egg-shells
To you of palm grove,
Upon whose bamboo towers hang
Dripping with yesterupwine

A tiger mask and nude spear …

Queen of the damp half light,
I have had my cleansing,
Emigrant with air-borne nose,
The he-goat-on-heat.

Christopher Okigbo

Christopher Ifekandu Okigbo was born in 1930. He was a Nigerian poet and he is today widely acknowledged as one of the most outstanding postcolonial English-language African poets and one of the major modernist writers of the twentieth century. He died in 1967 while fighting for the independence of Biafra.

Limits IV: An Image Insists by Christopher Okigbo

AN IMAGE insists

from the flag pole of the heart,

The image distracts

with the cruelty of the rose …

My lioness

(No shield is lead plate against you)

Wound me with your sea-weed face,

blinded like a strong-room.

Distances of your

armpit-fragrance

Turn chloroform,

enough for my patience –

When you have finished,

and done up my stitches,

Wake me near the altar,

& this poem will be finished.

Christopher Okigbo

Christopher Ifekandu Okigbo was born in 1930. He was a Nigerian poet and he is today widely acknowledged as one of the most outstanding postcolonial English-language African poets and one of the major modernist writers of the twentieth century. He died in 1967 while fighting for the independence of Biafra.

Limits II: For He Was A Shrub Among The Poplars by Christopher Okigbo

FOR HE WAS a shrub among the poplars

Needing more roots

More sap to grow to sunlight

Thirsting for sunlight

A low growth among the forest.

Into the soul

The selves extended their branches

Into the moments of each living hour

Feeling for audience

Straining thin among the echoes;

And out of the solitude

Voice and soul with selves unite

Riding the echoes

Horsemen of the apocalypse;

And crowned with one self

The name displays its foliage,

Hanging low

A green cloud above the forest.

Christopher Okigbo

Christopher Ifekandu Okigbo was born in 1930. He was a Nigerian poet and he is today widely acknowledged as one of the most outstanding postcolonial English-language African poets and one of the major modernist writers of the twentieth century. He died in 1967 while fighting for the independence of Biafra.