Rachel Ikemeh

Rachel Ikemeh Poems

On the brink,
Only thirsty for a drink,
Once the parched can but think,
Onwards panting for water, even milk,
...

Bid me to abide a moment longer
Entreat me to stay a day longer
For in your countenance I go stronger
For truly not in vain I'm a sojourner
...

You remind me of a butterfly
…yes, of a butterfly in its life phases

You remind me of a butterfly
...

The four seasons have been impressing upon us
For years, as if to say we're not listening
To the melodious symphony in tune to a chorus
‘Will come in due season and just in time'
...

I woke up not to the familiar chirping sounds of songful birds
this morning's dew washes my drowsy eyes to see
something I seemed to have missed all along.
that thin fine line between good old self-esteem and everything else
...

You and I see, speak face to face
Words - knows what the other will say
Word for word
Thoughts - or is about to say
...

The Best Poem Of Rachel Ikemeh

Faith- In-Portions

On the brink,
Only thirsty for a drink,
Once the parched can but think,
Onwards panting for water, even milk,
Or desiring more of pure milk,
One can thence quench this hunger for ink.

Pangs, the paroxysm needful for growth;
Panting, pacing and pondering,
Pondering questions and perplexed in wonders,
Pleading answers on every page turn of scriptures,
Pacing with wobbly steps the road to spirituality,
Puzzled even still in still contemplation in opacity.

Confronted by the howling winds of scepticism,
Combat waged against own inferences and introspects,
Cogitating sundry judgments to excogitate true truth,
Cascaded regardless by a presence beyond imagination,
Convicted in a realm of revelation not speculation,
…cannot now deny the peace invasion.

What a catalytic journey to discovery,
Discovering sheer joy in seeing light,
Light of truth that darkness cannot comprehend,
Comprehend or ruminate in the dark for the sacred,
Sacred indeed is the hunger of the thirsty soul,
Soul only finding solace in simple faith.

Faith?
Yes, substance needed the whole nine yards,
Yard lengths of a road never ending,
End though of exploring the blistering scourge,
Scourge of the desert heat of hopelessness,
Hope only found for the wearied heart in surrender.

Faith, deeply-rooted in the Omnipotent love,
Grounded in the Grace of God that sees all,
Grasping the Goodness of the ever faithful Father,
Gazing upon the Glory of the God of gods,
Growing to full maturity from infant to Christ-like,
Gradually fathoming that faith matures in portions.

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