Chinyelu Agwu

Chinyelu Agwu Poems

Let my pen flow in this lyrical trilogy
Herein I croon at the dazzling skies
That spread like folds of rich purple linen above our feeble roofs
In this moment
...

Where lies the jungle, he asks.
I was told to go this way, he says.
You see, I'm on a safari, he says,
To view the wild animals
...

Tonight,
We woke to the sound of the rapping rooster
Leading an orchestra of violins, flutes,
And talking drums
...

The lion that scaled the fence looked back
But its glassy, sparkling eyes
Met darkness
Across the fence.
...

If you depart from the company that rests at the waterhole
You will not only know thirst
You may know death.
Here we run
...

If you climb on my shoulder
We can watch the television together
Even though your high chair
Is right beside me.
...

Because in the garden
We laugh
And we love
When tangled in her loose wrapper
...

Chinyelu Agwu Biography

Chinyelu Agwu is the author of It's No Fantasy, a collection of poetry published in 2022, which focuses on contemporary social and political situations in Nigeria with a view to urge social reconstruction and a renewed belief in the enduring value of the Nigerian nation-state. She teaches courses in Literature at the Department of English and Literary Studies, Federal University Lokoja in Nigeria. She received her Bachelor of Arts degree in English from the University of Nigeria, Nsukka, and her Masters' and PhD degrees in English Studies from the University of Port Harcourt, Nigeria. She writes both poetry and fiction. Her poetry has also been featured in newspapers, and in Okike: A Journal of New Writing.)

The Best Poem Of Chinyelu Agwu

For Nigeria: Meditations (Prologue)

Let my pen flow in this lyrical trilogy
Herein I croon at the dazzling skies
That spread like folds of rich purple linen above our feeble roofs
In this moment
Moments as wild as a jungle-like temperature
Yet the living remains within the borders of sanity
And keep the core of existence
As it is everywhere the sun rises.

The river of our past flows steadily into our minds
The wounds of the past stab us in the face with their scars
And weave our tongues with endless tales
Of 'It can never be
Because once upon a time we fell
And were not repaired.'

But herein I croon that it's no fantasy
That the wounded has long been repaired
Even though dead scars wish to take on life
Against us;
Even though some may no longer know
What it means to fight for home
Against the scars.

I croon
That we can dream and work out the dreams
Because the ancient keepers of all that can never be taken away from us,
All that we today own,
Did not teach that we can remain asleep on the grass mattresses
While the labour is on.

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