THE GIANT PEN ANTHOLOGY 203
This is but the last Ember
So be obstinate to say Mba.
Say no to its snare and bait-
In its subtility, we will checkmate.
If this Ember rice we must eat-
Its tasky sweat must come to be.
Toil as the day becomes night,
Energy saps; no might.
This ember, going off,
Tried, but is it enough?
If this ember is here,
Do not lose hope my dear.
It never get old,
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Ready to get the Gold
For those we should please.
We dare not return empty.
Scared also of Ember terrors.
I shall commence the flow
With a glow in this ember.
I shall begin the countdown
As the nights turn, I count down.
For my hope shall not flop,
But with joy, my tears shall drop.
Rhythms play more softly,
It gets down to the last Clock
Tales of calamitous contingencies
Inform the season’s hard luck –
Yet does it sing so sweetly
In gleeful diminuendo?
Ember months hurriedly strut in;
Like traveling flames,
Generously changing market prices,
With heavy hit on celebration.
Often times, putting on bloodshed apparel,
Sometimes with warmth and light.
©ISRAEL EZE (EQUITY)®
Ember month towards ending calendar year.
Often arrive here for better hare.
If you are here on time we will plan ahead.
Show us the rightful path we wanted to tread.
Let’s go and amend our ways
For it might be the end of the world.
Shuffle it round cause it worth it.
The voice of the wind,
Rapes my innocence.
The scary touch of nature,
Eats my confidence.
I hide, whispering tongues of prayer,
Into the ‘BER’ of this EMBER.
Gently, this ember creeps in,
Just like Santa visiting on Christmas Eve,
Bringing along with its presents wrapped in fog and mist.
Just for me and you to remember,
that it is a month coloured in the colours of love and
a month when our bodies get coloured in the colour of baking flour.
It’d never get worse ,only better
For thee; made from batter of dust
Happiness finds us at all cost
bitterness ‘d wander and get lost
For in God we trust
If Not those Embers ;This Ember
Watching as this Ember glows,
Soon it would begin to grow.
With us all still having hope,
Though it has its scopes.
Here we are;
Wishing for a good slope.
Aroma of fried rice in ember
Reminding me of the burnt pot like amber.
Jolly relatives and friends exchanging greetings
Reminding me of excessive work in everything.
The smell of ember, I’m grateful for
But I must be sincere, I detest its work.
Sometimes I flop
Still, I maintain my flaws
I know there is another time
Time when my worries will be gone
As this ember promises greatness
Indeed the year of greatness is around
Difficult to bend.
No fortune gathered yet.
All hopes on high
But not yet too late
To make the best
Though these embers crept in with a loud Voice,
Humming and zooming just to be noticed,
Yet a thousand of heads are caught unprepared.
Now the last of the twelve is leaving ,
Leaving some with joy,
And some without joy.
Amazing how the day metamorphose into weeks and birth months.
Look she comes like a flash of light and the past creeps at us.
Oh let’s clap, let the solat hold,
Be it a mass, make five times consistent.
Alas! This Ember shall bring us to a new Dawn.
Reiterating the closure of another period,
A time to retreat,
To review and strategize,
Providing the atmosphere to express our love.
This ember is my body,
Containing my soul,
This ember sings,
The voices are embedded with sins,
Slowly the body burns,
Quickly the soul’s salvation it seeks.
©BENJA T. MABASA®
It’s the beginning of the end
of the ember months’ trend.
The scent of my Nigerian jollof,
I already perceived from a distance.
Reuniting with friends and family,
I already envision from afar.
This ember, I’ve waited long for it.
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