Annus Mirabilis (For Stefn), By Nnamdi Elekwachi

My friend wrote consistently poem for each day until he had 365 for the year 2018, a task he undertook. I looked for a way of celebrating this and penned this few lines for him. Stefn Sylvester Anyatonwu, this is my laurel wreath for your poetic head, do sir, wear it. Congrats! - Nnamdi Elekwachi

Annus Mirabilis (For Stefn)

A twelvemonth unfurled

Just as the challenge did unfold

Year and task before our eyes fall

He took up the gauntlet

A poor bard, drawn in an epic for

Three-sixty-five-one-quarter days

Armed with only muse and pen

A prisoner of his mind

That torturer that had him racing

On the flabby feathers of hope

A flight and sojourn of the willing

That landed him to "I made it!"

Brevity it takes to pledge

Greater brevity lies in daring

But to do is brevity at best

Ages and men passing may forget

Might they a feat this noble?

A daily goer of life who led it

Like eternal lines printed on

Marbled consciences

When modernity exhumes antiquity

Let time and tide enthrone history

To sit over the affairs of this world

Where the fair and the ill are judged

That when their future queries our past

May that past echo:

"My age harbours what you seek

Poetical calendar...

A gift from my age to yours"

The volumes they turn over

Bringing us thus

Head and shoulder high, heart filled...

Before the courtly palatial council of posterity

Here, I stand

At the threshold of new beginning

That which his precursor heralded

A witness, I am

That for this bard,

For arts,

For poetry,

And for good

A.D 2018 was an Annus Mirabilis!

Written by Nnamdi Elekwachi (Aficionado)
For Stefn Sylvester Anyatonwu
Aba Poetry Club

Enjoyed reading?

Please leave a comment and share with friends. Thank you!

Comments

Doris' Torment - A Villanelle Of The Rose | Stefn Sylvester Anyatonwu

POEM 298: DORIS' TORMENT - A VILLANELLE OF THE ROSE Doris couldn't stop thinking about the rose It was just so black and mellow But she could never forget the hose That morning, Doris was shocked by the pose She had to calm herself with a marshmallow Doris couldn't stop thinking about the rose Later, Doris was spooked by a prose She tried to focus on a fellow But she could never forget the hose Alex tried to distract her with a transpose Said it was time to start thinking about a martello Doris couldn't stop thinking about the rose Doris took action like an expose The rose was like a toxic jello But she could never forget the hose Doris nosedived like a tricky chose Her mind became dangerously yellow Doris couldn't stop thinking about the rose But she could never forget the hose ------- This is a type of poetry known as Villanelle. ------- #365DaysOfPoetry #Pengician #SSA Enjoyed reading? Please leave a comment and sharing with friends. Thank you!

Featured Article | Quicken Us, by Paul Albert

QUICKEN US So will not we go back from thee: quicken us, and we will call upon thy name. KJV Then will we not depart from you; revive us (give us life) and we will call upon Your name. Amp - Psalms 80 vs. 18. Ever watched a movie where your favorite actor was beaten to a pulp? Beaten to the point where standing on both feet becomes a prayer point? But beyond the pain little sparks of adrenaline still moves through His vein, He doesn’t want to give up or rather He is Hell bent to be the last man standing. I am sure you’ve watched such. But wait. Focus on this… How did that man who has had a beating of His lifetime overcome His greatest fears? Maybe He remembers countless number of people who would become slaves forever to a conquering enemy or how unpredictable their lives would certainly become or definitely the cry of the ones He loves most. Then a spark is ignited, a fire that actually never died starts flowing through his veins again. You can imagine the velocity of adren...

Dear Nun | Stefn Sylvester Anyatonwu

POEM 254: DEAR NUN I pray thee, dear nun, a morning psalm don’t be to me. Would rather you sow, deep in my heart, the yearning of your bud, in the wake of twilight. I pray thee, dear nun, in vain doth my want restrain from wrapping us in a hell of heavenly bliss, for though I kiss my Rosary, still it be blasphemy to rise and fall in lust's refrain. The lingering whiff of your first menses nor the beauty wrapped in flowing gown, doth conceal you inert desires, nor veil, with virtues, you [I dread to say nor write], for we’re far beyond those pretenses in which we cage love in pious frown You could hold a smile, it won't millstone your soul and cast thee hence in heart of Sheol. Shed now your sigh, estranged the flowing gown and let your long-lost heart embrace wanton thoughts. For they both appear, to pay sin’s toll, not one word from thence shall condemn your soul So would you make me now sweat beads from your Rosary? Would you let me take to another realm where clouds shall we...

Jaachi Writes

Search This Blog