Emmanuel Isuku is a distinguished Nigeria National poet, playwright and novelist. He hails from Ihievbe, Owan tribe, Edo state, Nigeria. His main interests are science(especially physics) and philosophy (as depicted in many of his poems and plays) . He has had one of his poems published in an anthology in England- an anthology which brought together twenty different poets from twenty different ... more »
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Emmanuel Isuku Poems
In The Village
In the village, all are safe and strong, No noisy crowd, no hustling throng, Flanked by jungles; so green in the sky, Climbers and trees, low and high
Behold men of valour, mighty and the strong, Venerated by monarchs, sophists and throng, Resting on debilitated heads of the weak, Their swords; so hard like the parrot's beak,
Farewell Coy Lady
Farewell coy lady, I leave you without pain, You almost pushed me down everlasting drain, For I've tried to supple your hardened heart, And burn the viper's venom in you on hot hearth,
Achebe is not dead, he lives, He is the breeze that cuddles the trees, He is the sweet honey in fresh hives, And the lights of the rising sun.
Dream Before Valentine's Day
In my royal castle of dreams, I trod a land tormented by the cold harmattan wind, There I found a forlorn damsel.. She was alluring in her looks
Isle of Bliss and Joy
In the wave of winter's snow, The pheonix, obscure of the dreaded Tide of melancholy, rose steadily So valiant, wreathed with golden
Silent tears smeared her face, In sheer pain of a slow pace, In the stride of their love Whose blessings hang above.
The Mourning Lady
In that dead silence she lays, Swinging her hands drowsily, so tipsy By the wine of life's unpleasant sting.... Her eyes soaked in ruddy tears....
O my coy Daisy, With pretence you confess You know nothing about The affections I offer you,
My Lost Love - Della
In those days - those infant years, When age made foolery of man, I sojourned in the garden of love With a damsel; her skin
Our Failed Polity
Our bus waded The flood-criss-crossed road, For several hours In sheer disgust of a failed polity.
John Evans Atta-Mills
The land has gone mournful in tears, For your demise coated us with weary wares, We're in pain! In ash and squalid rags, O my string of joy vigorously sags.
Be my princess, be my love, Give me hope, give me life, I shall lift you high above, Take my heart and be my wife.
Comments about Emmanuel Isuku
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
In The Village
In the village, all are safe and strong,
No noisy crowd, no hustling throng,
Flanked by jungles; so green in the sky,
Climbers and trees, low and high
In the village, lucid sages are seen,
Sitting on bare play-ground, very clean,
Telling moonlight myths to children at night,
Their gale faces lit by hurricane light
In the village, there are huts without doors,
The compounds' sands as fine as sandy shores
With paths: narrow, furbished and free,
Which one treads with happiness and glee
In the village, there's a maiden with ...