Which Nigerian Poem Is Your Best?

oh!
so many!

telephone conversation (wole soyinka) cracked me up real bad
pauper( i think j.p clark) made me sad, thats the height of poverty
night rain
snake

so many i call recall the title

but great great poems!

yes i did study literature at o/level
but that was ninetis
i still read poem from my younger ones books

ABIKU by Wole Soyinka

In vain your bangles cast,

Charm circles at my feet?

I am Abiku calling for the first and the repeated time.

Must I weep for goats and cowries

for palm oil and sprinkled ashe

yams do not sprout in amulets
to earth abikus limp.

Do I coninue?

sorry The Vultures is not a Nigerian poem. it is from Senegal by David Diop.

in those days, when civilisation kicked us in the face

when holy waters slapped our clinging brows

the vultures built in the shadow of their talons blood stained monument of tutelage



i`ll continue

it was great
i wish i can lay my hands on it again
always made me laugh
esp the brunnette part
boy!

i only remember a few

wow!, great job guys!

wesley , where exactly do i go on line?
can i also see other poems there?

u can say that again!

i need to get those poems on line!!!!

la be igig orombo - ni be lagben sere wa, inu wa dun, ara wa ya, labe igi orombo.

that na poety na.

another one - oko plus obo equals omo.

The price seemed reasonable, location
Indifferent. The landlady swore she lived
Off premises. Nothing remained
But self-confession. "Madam," I warned,
"I hate a wasted journey--I am African."
Silence. Silenced transmission of
Pressurized good-breeding. Voice, when it came,
Lipstick coated, long gold-rolled
Cigarette-holder pipped. Caught I was foully.
"HOW DARK?" . . . I had not misheard . . . "ARE YOU LIGHT
OR VERY DARK?" Button B, Button A.* Stench
Of rancid breath of public hide-and-speak.
Red booth. Red pillar box. Red double-tiered
Omnibus squelching tar. It was real! Shamed
By ill-mannered silence, surrender
Pushed dumbfounded to beg simplification.
Considerate she was, varying the emphasis--
"ARE YOU DARK? OR VERY LIGHT?" Revelation came.
"You mean--like plain or milk chocolate?"
Her assent was clinical, crushing in its light
Impersonality. Rapidly, wave-length adjusted,
I chose. "West African sepia"--and as afterthought,
"Down in my passport." Silence for spectroscopic
Flight of fancy, till truthfulness clanged her accent
Hard on the mouthpiece. "WHAT'S THAT?" conceding
"DON'T KNOW WHAT THAT IS." "Like brunette."
"THAT'S DARK, ISN'T IT?" "Not altogether.
Facially, I am brunette, but, madam, you should see
The rest of me. Palm of my hand, soles of my feet
Are a peroxide blond. Friction, caused--
Foolishly, madam--by sitting down, has turned
My bottom raven black--One moment, madam!"--sensing
Her receiver rearing on the thunderclap
About my ears--"Madam," I pleaded, "wouldn't you rather
See for yourself?"



GOT ITTTTTTTTTTTTTT

just not to be selfish, if u dont have time to visit the site wesley gave
here it is

What I love about the poem is the way it has racism down pat (especially the way it was back then predominantly in the 1950s and 1960s), although it is more subtle than what actually obtained.

We read J. P. Clark's Casualties - a collection of his poems set basically in the civil war era. That's where I encountered "Night Rain" again since secondary skool, and then "Abiku".

There were otha more complicated/political poems that our lecturer, Mr. Akpuda, had to guide us through like toddlers. They were quite hard 2 crack 4 some of us who weren't so devoted.

But the collection I read and fell in love with was Toni Kan's When A Dream Lingers too Long.
I love all the poems in it, especially the title poem. My long essay was on that collection.

 Casualties

yes, nice poem too. i remember. that one gave us lines like:

many are the casualties who have no say in the matter
dying by instalment

are we not all casualties of the realities of daily living in Nigeria? did we have any say in the matter? are we not dying instalmentally?

poets are prophets, but prophets are not poets.