Chris Jibero Poems

I know not a dowdy
And never will know any
Because none exists where I live
Where I work
...

Have I gone crazy or what
But there is some symptom of craze
In every love
And that could be why sleep
...

Though I may not sing you balmy blues
As melodiously
As Lionel Richie
But sonorously
...

Brooks of innocent blood
shed in my country with impunity
have gathered to form a scarlet sea
after flowing hither and thither
...

Who could be more comely than an angel
What could be sweeter than honey
What could be brighter than a tropical sun in a dry season noon
What could be fresher and fascinating than an invigorating new dawn
...

I saw you soon after my birth
For your pleasant aroma saluted my nose
And cajoled my tender eyes to pop open
Before their season
...

Time tenacious
Determined and serious
In an endless cyclic dance
Always sporting the same simple costume
...

She is as nude as dry bones
in cold tomb
defrocked of flesh
antithesis of purity
...

I long for you, my beloved
The melody of your voice
The bounce
And grace
...

(A tribute to Mr Jose Joseph, aged just 29 years,
an Indian colleague of mine at Women Teachers’ College, Numan,
who died mysteriously in his car while travelling to Sokoto.)
...