james agada

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james agada
Monday 5 April 2021

Gift me a lotus tree

Gift me a lotus tree

In a garden hidden in a crater

With a tranquil lake 

And sharp cliffs standing guard

All at attention from the valley to the clouds

Let my chores be simple

To sit beside the lake

And besides the tree

To lift a finger and curl a flower

Down from a languid branch

To slowly munch the petals

Savouring the juice slowly 

Slowly seeping further than where the blood gets to. 


Gift me the lotus tree

On a tranquil island 

Bang in the middle of this crater lake

Let my dreams be simple

To stare into the turquoise lake

With a smile on my face and peace in my heart

To blank my thoughts to the urge

Of the tumult beyond the cliffs standing guard around this crater

To still the wanderlust beyond the tree and her flowers

To slowly munch the petals

Savouring the juice slowly 

Slowly seeping further than where the blood gets to. 


Gift me a lotus tree

And the island

And the blankness that follows

Let my joys be permanent

A flower away, arm's length away

A smile without a sweat

Contentment without assets

just the urge to sit and gaze at the tree and her flowers

To slowly munch the petals

Savouring the juice slowly 

Slowly seeping further than where the blood gets to. 



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james agada
Monday 22 February 2021

Just Give Us Hope

( An inauguration poem )


Hope is what brings us here

From the time we asked the British to leave

The hope of a new nation beckoned on us

with alluring promises that we anchored on

We knew the journey will be hard

with friends, we have just met becoming brothers

and other strangers we did not remember inviting

filling the tent

Hope told us the tent was big enough

that the land was rich enough

that the rivers were full enough

Hope is what brings here again

Hope for the hope that the dream

will become true 

and we will slap our brothers back and not their cheeks

that we will distinguish the stranger from the friend

and the tent will truly be enough

Hope that our search for the promise

made when we chased the British away

and even before then when the bibles came and took our land

and restrained our hands from selling our brothers

for mirrors and guns

Hope is what brings us today again

We knew the journey will be hard

but not this hard,

We knew the race will be long

but not this long

Hope told us our generation will not die off

as we went around the desert in forty years, and then forty nights

and another forty years again

until we are now here

Hope is what you, all of you owe us

that our dreams will be less bloody

and our days be less dreary.

Just give us hope.



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james agada
Tuesday 16 February 2021

Unfinished

Unfinished is the title of the song 

whose rhythm we forever seek

The lyrics were written eons ago

In the rumbling of rocks that has not yet stopped

In the wind that still races around the globe 

race around these rocks

Chipping away bits here and then there

The lyrics are there in the letters of life 

strung together in the minute memory of our cells

To read and recreate and reform

 in the unfinished business of life

Unfinished is the war we fight 

to take the earth and its contents

And fight to take our life into our hands

to break the bondage of sin, man, and oppression

Unfinished is our quest for justice 

for those that have been shattered and squashed, 

run over and rolled over and forgotten 

Unfinished is our blood that runs hot 

at the excitement of words and calls to action, 

to rebel and to capture, to rebuild and to destroy again

Unfinished is the counting of the stars that stretch across the skies

 inviting us to look up and continue the count

Unfinished is our search for the beginning 

Unfinished is our search for the end. 

Unfinished is this poem.

Unfinished.



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james agada
Tuesday 2 February 2021

Happiness is a moment's job

You can hear the two little fairies on your shoulder

One with his cape and timbre

Skipping the ropes in rhythm with your pulse

Pointing out the laughter before you miss them

Picking up the stones after they hit you.

You ask him what is so funny

And he points to everything

And says the sun is shining

And laughs again.

In a moment 

You laugh with him,

And he laughs even more

His skipping adding zest to your step

And now your smile adds to his and makes a shield 

That catches the stones before they hit you. 

His magic wand draws sparkles in the air

Burning off the putrefaction before you breathe.

He waves the wands around and about

Cindering the mud before they stick to your jacket,

Patching the holes before they fray. 

You want to dance to his impish tune

Even though you can’t hear the beat.

When you ask him for his fee

He looks at you in wonder,

Happiness, he says, is a moment's job. 



(https://agadapoetry.blogspot.com/2020/06/happiness-is-moments-job.html)



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james agada
Sunday 24 January 2021

the day walks into the sunset

With arms folded behind his back

the day walks into the sunset

his shadow growing with each step

reaching behind to drag

each untethered thought

over the hills

in pursuit of the dying rays.

the day hesitates at the foot of the hill

thinks of turning back

to complete the loving 

that still heaves in the street

or to move the piece on the chessboard

outside the balcony

where he played with the falcons

and the falconers seeking advantage

but the sun is dying

behind the hills

and the weight of the shadows

and her bag of loves and hates and in-betweens

drags on his feet.

the day crawls up the hill

over the horizon

just in time to sadly drop

into the inkiness that has come

and swallowed the dying sun.



(also posted on

https://agadapoetry.blogspot.com/2020/07/the-day-walks-into-sunset.html)



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james agada
Thursday 21 January 2021

meet me where the traffic jams

Meet me I said

Where the traffic jams 

before the junction that

leads to your house

Yes, that junction

mid way across the express way

where the cars stretch far to your left

and the trucks stretch far to your right

Meet me there at noon or maybe midnight

because I can’t say for sure

when my body will get there

My spirit will be sitting by the traffic light

taking in the honking of desperation

and laughing at the rush to go

and then to stay and backup

and jam the traffic

Meet me I said

When you have counted

a thousand cars lined up

starting from the bus stop

That one where the fight does not stop

Don’t ask questions of the poor souls

counting the hours seeping from their lives

They may take you for the cause

of the traffic that jams

Meet me I said

When I have swum through this flood

to get to your junction

and bring a balm for my nerves

And  a cold towel

to call my spirit back from where he sits

grinning at the race that continues tomorrow 

Meet me I said

Where the traffic jams.


(See more in my
poetry blog
https://agadapoetry.blogspot.com}



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james agada
Wednesday 20 January 2021

and then i left the room


it has grown dark in here

amidst the voices raised

and the claims laid out in print


so i stood up and walked 

round this table 

from behind the man without a face

covered head to toe with red slips

around the man with the briefcase

that landed with force

and a weary face


I walked round the vultures silently

waiting for the carcass

and the hyenas baring their fangs

I took note of the executioner

standing in a corner with a long ax

and a darker cloak


I walked round the table

and wrote the debts out on the wall

one stroke for money in bags

one line for a life 

and a dot for a frown or a smile


The walls filled up

with strokes and lines and dots

and the darkness grew in here


and then I left 

through the door that remained open

to look at the lone pigeon

standing on the ledge 

together we sat on the ledge 

pecking away at the scales on our feet

as the sun came out to dry our wings


I grew wings as the dew fled

and filled my lungs with the throbbing rays

and i left with the pigeon

away from the strokes and lines and dots

and the claimants waiting in the dark room.


I left the room 

With the pigeon calling his friends from nearby trees

We all saluting the sun

And gulping the fresh air 

Free from the debts and claims

In the dark room getting darker. 


(Also posted here https://agadapoetry.blogspot.com/2021/01/and-then-i-left-room.html)



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