Ancestry Poems
This Heritage
by Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu
In this arid circumstance,
on a collage of sacred pulses,
this pot —Heritage — merely sits,
smoked and besmirched by elements
of mundane faggots.
My Ancestors
by Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu
On this earth-stone they used to sit,
My ancestors, who possessed the laws of man,
Knew every secret of the earth,
Held fast to them,
And did their things little by little
Until death came to them little by little.
The Generations of Men
by Robert Frost
A governor it was proclaimed this time,
When all who would come seeking in New Hampshire
Ancestral memories might come together.
And those of the name Stark gathered in Bow,
A rock-strewn town where farming has fallen off,
And sprout-lands flourish where the axe has gone.
Someone had literally run to earth
In an old cellar hole in a by-road
The origin of all the family there.
Thence they were sprung, so numerous a tribe
......
Kinsmen
by Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu
Kinsmen,
Let us bring ourselves together under the iroko tree.
There we shall (with our flaming eyes that have known no
Sleep all these past market weeks) alter the positions of the
Moon and stars.
There we shall rebuild our once formidable shrines,
Reshape the leaves of the iroko itself,
Strengthen their boughs and strip the branches of
Their protracted weakness,
Break every bridge that makes our one river two rivals,
......
Roots (For Alex Haley)
by Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu
Pensile clouds of a new Truth loom.
With them are selected versions of
Extinct grief.
Looking through the yellowness of a
Dog’s eyes, this aura of Truth, pervasive,
Sours my palate.
What say the bulletins and tabloids
In their speech potency?
......
This Heritage
by Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu
In this arid circumstance,
on a collage of sacred pulses,
this pot —Heritage — merely sits,
smoked and besmirched by elements
of mundane faggots.
Roots (For Alex Haley)
by Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu
Pensile clouds of a new Truth loom.
With them are selected versions of
Extinct grief.
Looking through the yellowness of a
Dog’s eyes, this aura of Truth, pervasive,
Sours my palate.
What say the bulletins and tabloids
In their speech potency?
......
In the Calendar
by Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu
My father's house,
an adobe,
mud-and-wattle plus cowrie shell
synthetic mould,
cuddling our miserable, naked feet
and reminding us of the
ascetic nature of our sires...
Incommoding...
Incorporeal upliftments salute us
......
My Ancestors
by Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu
On this earth-stone they used to sit,
My ancestors, who possessed the laws of man,
Knew every secret of the earth,
Held fast to them,
And did their things little by little
Until death came to them little by little.
Kinsmen
by Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu
Kinsmen,
Let us bring ourselves together under the iroko tree.
There we shall (with our flaming eyes that have known no
Sleep all these past market weeks) alter the positions of the
Moon and stars.
There we shall rebuild our once formidable shrines,
Reshape the leaves of the iroko itself,
Strengthen their boughs and strip the branches of
Their protracted weakness,
Break every bridge that makes our one river two rivals,
......
