Làbáké

Emmanuel Uwe Etim

Emmanuel Uwe Etim's Profile

Emmanuel Uwe Etim

Saturday 23 April 2022

Làbáké

the night is long, longer than the path

that led you to me,

you are the road I have taken,

a coal of burning frost,

and i have returned, i have returned in

my coat, smelling like prodigal foliages

bludgeoned by winter,

i have returned to rest my poorness on

thy breast,

returned for you to feed my hawk the

milk of gentleness,

I have returned so you can caress my name

just the way you used to under the baobab tree

where silence eavesdrops the nudest of

secrets,

returned to have you seduce my dawn,

to have you teach my morning the chemistry

of joy, to have you take me to the alluvial

of relief, to help me relax, to help me

plummet into your pit of dimple,

i have returned like a mercenary sent into

a profitless war with my shoes almost defeated,

i have returned, bleeding like a massacred

history,

returned so you can exhale on my wounds,

returned so you can wash my miseries off

with your sponge of smile.

Etim Emmanuel Uwe

Emmanuel Uwe Etim

Saturday 8 January 2022

I Am A Poet

I'm a poet born with a

Thousand and one minds

On the back of words

I ride,

Let the truce wrapped in

My nib heal the world of its

Incongruity,

Let the sickle hidden in the

Stable of my diction pluck the

Throat of those plundering

Our nation;

Let them be chased by the Leopards

That escort my name.

Etim Emmanuel Uwe

Emmanuel Uwe Etim

Wednesday 27 October 2021

*****

Come,

Let me show you

How to wash pain

Off your crying skin

Using morning as soap,

Come! let me show you.

Etim Emmanuel Uwe

Emmanuel Uwe Etim

Monday 27 September 2021

We Are The Snails

The right road slips,
Those who sprints in haste
Will later need more feet,

Still we are the snails,
We are the snails chased by
a thousand thoroughbreds,

The impatient leopard will
Be dotted home when we
Talk in the shell of victory,

So let those who now flaunt
In the speed of victory
Not wail when our slowness
Outruns their haste.

Etim Emmanuel Uwe

Emmanuel Uwe Etim

Monday 20 September 2021

I Hate To Tell You

When this fire burns, burns and burns then

Suddenly ceases to burn, pour its embers into

The mouth of an inflamed water.

I hate to strain the ticking ears of time,

I hate to be like another frustrated wife

Kicking the large testicles of life,

I hate to confess in the custody of a crowdless

Market,

That I'm no more that lion whose roar can resurrect

A buried decade,

That I'm no more like a breathing tomb wrapped

With the linings of Lazarusing flairs,

That my confidence now stutters like a stammerer

Called to argue guilt,

Knowing my personifications still

Till in the farm of poetry,

Knowing I still lay alone every cold nights

Cuddled by fantasies,

Knowing that the branches of my songs are

Pruned by the cutlass of what I don't know,

Knowing I still throw my calls open to the silo

Of fat famished homes,

I hate to tell you,

That, I do not know if i can confront

The gaints in these Intimidating days.

Etim Emmanuel Uwe

Emmanuel Uwe Etim

Monday 13 September 2021

Tell Us

Tell us;
Which among
This talented water
Will quench the inferno
Of poverty?

Etim Emmanuel Uwe

Emmanuel Uwe Etim

Thursday 9 September 2021

Those

Those who try to send

The laughter on our faces

Packing,

Those who on the pulpit of

Oneness ties the knot of

Our frith with war,

Those who will not even

For once flinch at the reflex

Of a thousand demises,

May your throats be slit

Open by the blade of a

Well sharpened time,

May the talon of impunity

Punish and tear your limbs

Apart.

Etim Emmanuel Uwe

Emmanuel Uwe Etim

Thursday 9 September 2021

Gradually

Gradually, I'm watching

It recede, just like the
Hairline of modern gospel,

Look! the house of these
Words is collapsing,
Like a foundation made
With the bricks of doom,

And I hate to tell you all
That yesterday, just yesterday,
My mind fell and my pot of
Inspiration broke,

Along with the cranium of
My songs,
Do pick the shards,
You all carry the shards in
Your ears and in your deafening
Silence,

And those parching for thy star
Are already outside, drinking from
The faucet of a stinking moon,
The world is unfair like the judgment
Of ten black elders.

Etim Emmanuel Uwe