Showing posts with label J. P. Clark. Show all posts
Showing posts with label J. P. Clark. Show all posts

Monday, 27 July 2015

Olokun by J. P. Clark

Olokun

I love to pass my fingers
(As tide thro' weeds of the sea
And wind the tall fern-fronds)
Thro' the strands of your hair
Dark as night that screens the naked moon:
I am jealous and passionate
Like Jehovah, God of the Jews,
And I would that you realise
No greater love had woman
From man than the one I have for you!
But what wakeful eyes of man,
Made of the mud of this earth,
Can stare at the touch of sleep
The sable vehicle of dream
Which indeed is the look of your eyes!
So drunken, like ancient walls
We crumble in heaps at your feet;
And as the good maid of the sea,
Full of rich bounties for men,
You lift us all beggars to your breast.

J. P. Clark

John Pepper Clark-Bekederemo was born on 6th April,1935. He is a Nigerian poet and playwright. He has written and published numerous poems and plays, some of his most popular works are Abiku (poetry) and Song of a Goat (a play).

Ibadan by J. P. Clark

Ibadan

Ibadan,
running splash of rust
and gold-flung and scattered
among seven hills like broken
china in the sun.

J. P. Clark

John Pepper Clark-Bekederemo was born on 6th April,1935. He is a Nigerian poet and playwright. He has written and published numerous poems and plays, some of his most popular works are Abiku (poetry) and Song of a Goat (a play).

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Wednesday, 24 June 2015

The Casualties by J. P. Clark


The casualties are not only those who are dead .
They are well out of it .
The casualties are not only those who are dead .
Though they await burial by installment.
The casualties are not only those who are lost
Persons or property, hard as it is
To grope for a touch that some
May not know is not there.
The casualties are not only those led away by night.
The cell is a cruel place , sometimes a haven .
No where as absolute as the grave .
The casualties are not only those who started
A fire and now cannot put out. Thousands
Are are burning that have no say in the matter .
The casualties are not only those who are escaping.
The shattered shall become prisoners in
A fortress of falling walls

The casualties are many , and a good member as well
Outside the scenes of ravage and wreck ;
They are the emissaries of rift ,
So smug in smoke -rooms they haunt abroad ,
They do not see the funeral piles
At home eating up the forests .
They are wandering minstrels who, beating on
The drums of the human heart, draw the world
Into a dance with rites it does not know .

The drums overwhelm the guns…
Caught in the clash of counter claims and charges
How Can I Go On When not in the niche others left,
We fall .
All casualties of the war.
Because we cannot hear each other speak .
Because eyes have ceased the face from the crowd .
Because whether we know or
Do not the extent of wrongs on all sides ,
We are characters now other than before
The war began, the stay- at - home unsettled

By taxes and rumours, the looters for office
And wares, fearful everyday the owners may return .
We are all casualties,
All sagging as are
The cases celebrated for kwashiorkor .
The unforseen camp - follower of not just our war .

J.P. Clark
John Pepper Clark-Bekederemo was born on 6th April,1935. He is a Nigerian poet and playwright. He has written and published numerous poems and plays, some of his most popular works are Abiku (poetry) and Song of a Goat (a play).

For Anita Roddick, a poem by Ken Saro-Wiwa

For Anita Roddick Had I a voice I would sing your song Had I a tongue I would speak your praise Had I the time I would live for you But here...