Tell Yourself the Truth

Benedict Ugor

Biography: A writer, artist and poet. Philosophical. "I love my world: Pen and Paper."

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Benedict Ugor

Saturday 30 March 2024

Let it stay

Even as I drift along this raging tide,

Even as strong winds blow me off my feet,

Even as heavy rains drench me from all sides,

Even as the blazing sun makes me grit my teeth.

May I not drift away from you

O lovely world of pen and paper.

May I not leave the queue

That seeks to learn and grow wise.

May I not lose my infant mind;

Those curious looking eyes

That always roam the skies.

May I not lose those flames

That always burn

And make me run.

Whether in dark days or cold nights;

High mountains or sloping valleys;

Raging seas or still waters;

Arid lands or flush green forests;

My little world will stay.

Benedict Ugor

Wednesday 27 December 2023

I watched

I watched the ice melt in the flame

And thought I felt the same.

I watched the hawk capture the chick

And felt a glimpse of vengeance.

I watched the birds sing a song

And wished I were among.

I watched the snake curl in a fold

And felt damp and cold.

I watched the chick newly hatch

And felt anew and fresh.

I watched the hen brood her chicks

And felt motherly love.

I watched the eagle fly through the air

And wished I too could be there.

Benedict Ugor

Monday 10 July 2023

You Broke my Heart

After all the joy we shared

After all the pain we bore

You still played the horse of troy

And my heart you tore...

This tears trickling down my face

Isn't made of water but blood.

It confirms all my fears of love -

Of its non-existence

For all this while you lived in pretense

With a life all fake,

You drowned me in the lake.

You heart.

broke my

my broke

heart ____ You

Love, truly, is a joke!

Benedict Ugor

Wednesday 27 December 2023

The Ant

Working day and night,

They stay united without a fight.

Although they have no leader,

They march and stay together.

In the summer, they gather

To have abundance in winter.

They all work in specialization

To build a strong civilization.

For theirs is a strong nation

Built with keen participation.

Amazing little creatures!

Small in size

But very wise.

Benedict Ugor

Wednesday 27 December 2023

My Little Seed

It all began as a little seed,

Small and tiny in my hand.

I had found it lying among the weed

In the lonely beach of sand.

My little seed was smooth and round

And I loved to play with it all around.

By letting it roll on the play-ground,

I watched it bounce and make a sound.

My precious little seed.

I made for it a locket,

Then put it in my pocket

To keep it safe and hid.

I wished my little seed would one day, grow

And become a tree – big and tall.

So I took it to the gardenm

Made a hole in the soil,

And there, I put my little seed.

I soon returned to find nothing.

Again I returned but nothing still.

Then my hopes began to sadden

As I stood there by the ground

Where I put my little seed.

Surprisingly, I returned in a few days

To behold a lovely little plant

Freshly sprouted and brightly green

With a tender slender stem.

It had on it a crown of three delicate leafs

And tiny roots in rich humus soil.

I watched it sway beautifully in the air;

My lovely little seed.

Everyday, I would come to see it.

And each day, it increased in height.

Gradually and steadily, it grew

Then soon it reached up to my knees.

Adorned with flush green leafs

With its stem, erect and tall.

Soon, its height reached close to mine

And soon my seed and I

Were same in height.

Unable to believe my eyes,

I ran away to hide.

My lovely little seed:

Now, it stands so huge and tall.

The tallest tree in the garden.

And now, I come each day

To sit under its shade.

Benedict Ugor

Saturday 17 June 2023

The Pains of War

He used to sleep with one eye open

But now, he sleeps with both eyes wide open

Because the horror of the cold war

Is now starting to unfold.

They had learnt to creep in crevices like cockroaches

And had begun to scurry like mice at the slightest sound.

A bed of metal scraps is to them, a pleasure

Because up north at the war front,

Their folks sleep on bombs and grenades.

Water and laughter are two things that are rare.

They have learnt to conserve water like desert ants

And every face is pale and blank;

Clad in misery and hunger.

The grain is now being sold in very small measure

Hardly enough to feed a day-old chick.

The last time he ate, he counted five ribs

But now before he slept, he saw all twelve!

The sound of music is everywhere;

of bombs, guns and fighter jets.

And the people dance to it in very awkward movements,

By scampering and jolting in all directions.

It does not rain with water anymore

But rather, it rains with torrents of bullets and shells.

He lived with his wife and two children in an underground rubble

And, of course, it was unsafe to go outside

But since the rats and insects had all been eaten,

He was forced to go out in search of food for his family.

As he sauntered across the broken fence,

He was met with his greatest surprise:

There sitting in the rubble

Was a nursing mother with her four sucklings clinging

Two to each breast!

His presence may have disturbed one of the sucklings

For while he was yet to recover from his shock,

It turned and cast a scornful look at him.

A wave of sadness suddenly surged through him

And he walked away bowing his head in despair.

The search for food was long and difficult.

On the first day, he got nothing but a bullet wound in his left arm

But he would not return to his family with nothing.

The next day, he still found nothing.

Then on the third day, he found a dog which just died from a blast.

He flung it across his shoulders and hurriedly set for home.

On reaching the ruins where he lived

He descended the dark tunnel and found his wife-

A thin black and battered figure with unkempt hair and crusty lips.

In her hand was their malnourished son.

He immediately sense something was amiss

And he cast a puzzled look at his wife.

Then his wife began to speak in a thin and shaky voice;

"The girl is gone," she said. "She starved to death."

There was a momentary pause of silence

He dropped to his knees

And full of anguish, he put his face in his palms and wept.

Benedict Ugor

Tuesday 20 August 2024

Secrets

To me alone
Or another lone
Or is alone

A secret is a secret
If something is hidden
And a secret is secret
Only to those concerned

Secrets die with their keepers
Or reveal upon their reap

Today,
There are secret secrets
And open secrets

Benedict Ugor

Tuesday 9 May 2023

Listen to the Quiteness

The quietness will speak

But many will not hear

Because by being too quick

They have lost both ears.

Listen to the quietness.

There resides the light

That if only you stay quiet

Will take away all darkness.

The quietness brings sight to the blind

And to the soul, it brings peace.

For it shows to you your mind

And makes known the deepest truths.

Listen to the quietness.

You will hear it call your name.

For its flickering flame

Will burst into great brightness.

Listen to the quietness;

Listen without haste.

For all of noisiness

Brings nothing but a waste.

Listen to the quietness

Listen...

Listen to the voice

Hidden in the noise.

Benedict Ugor

Sunday 24 March 2024

Nothing is Free

Nothing is free,

Even freedom has a price.

And so you must pay the fee

To be deserving of the prize.

Nothing is free,

Let none deceive you of bloom.

Look closely you will see,

Ahead lies the doom.

Nothing if free,

You must risk the life.

Learn from the bee

of how it protects its hive.

Nothing is free,

You must die before you live.

So does a seed

Before it sprouts its leafs.

Nothing is free,

Even freedom has a price...

Benedict Ugor

Friday 17 March 2023

Who is wrong?

Those who write condemning human killings of animals

Should also write against animal killings of animals

And of animal killings of humans

And finally, of human killings of humans.

Firstly and justly, give all animals equal rights; wild and domestic alike.

Whether Insect or reptile;

Beast or pet;

Rodent or bird.

I know that humans kill a million chickens at Christmas,

But I know about the blood sucking demon - little Mosquito.

Just yesterday, I watched in horror a lion devour a pretty Lamb!

But of human killings of humans, I'll save my breath;

Those are constructively destructive

And are more wild than the wild!

Benedict Ugor

Wednesday 1 March 2023

Nigeria

My tears is drained

My voice refrained

My mind is dazed

My senses crazed

To say the truth,

I'm ashamed of my country

Where a million bad Homo sapiens

Exist among the very few good.

Many have died fighting.

And when I ask myself of what use is it dying for my country,

I'm reminded of the quote:

It is better to die for something than live for nothing.

But then I would ask myself again:

I'm I really alive?

My pen is speaking painfully on white pages:

Please tell whoever it is that is our leader:

To have mercy on helpless souls

To let peace reign even with injustice

To have good intentions for a ruined nation

To work very hard to build the nation

To promote unity in diversity

To listen and...

Ah...

My pen is shaky and bleeding

Oh!

Pretty Nigeria

Beautiful Nigeria

Immaculate Nigeria

May God keep you safe...

Benedict Ugor

Friday 24 February 2023

In Justice

While the people toil the soil

Day and night,

They loot the spoils

As though a right.

The people's poverty

Gives them liberty

And all they acquire

Is what they conspired.

Now, democracy is turned conspiracy.

Corruption is their only option

Which, although, would would ruin the nation,

Will still build them mansions

And increase their ration.

Look how they stand out like toads!

With swollen bellies abloat

From filthy filthy currency notes.

At every fourth year,

The war is fought

And this war must they win,

Whether by hook or by crook.

For even if the war is free and fair,

It isn't without a fee and fare.

They do not care;

They know no fear

For none will dare

To quench their flare.

This is injustice!

And justice must be obtained

For peace and equity to thrive.

But how can there be any peace

When injustice is in justice?

Benedict Ugor

Wednesday 11 January 2023

Consciousness

After endless ruminations without an answer,

I cast a desperate look in the face of another:

"Tell me," I said. "How do you feel Human?"

I guess he repeated the question in his mind

For his eyes seeming blind,

He stared blankly into space

And began to walk about the place

In a grimace and twitch of nose and face

For what seemed the toughest question of all his days.

Soon he bent his head low

And his back formed a bow

This rather showed he did not know.

"How do you feel Human?" I asked again, this time loud and slow.

The fellow,

Looking quickly up at me

Was now both puzzled and confused.

He began to mutter something strange like an answer;

His voice, shaky from doubt

And his tone bold from sham.

"I...I..feel Human," he began. "Because...because I have thoughts and...and I see other Humans walk and...and I too can walk and do what other Humans do." He paused, looked up at me and ended with a quick nod.

I narrowed my gaze to the pupil of his eyes

And analyzed his confused lies;

Perhaps, I thought, he was as confused and troubled as I was

For what he said did not answer my question:

"How do you feel Human?"