Tag Archives: Poetry

Life, Living, My Art, Poetry, Stories, writing

The Angels’ Trail – for Robert

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JKLeahy (I wrote this poem yesterday for my cousin Robert) 

The Angels’ Trail

In your journey, after the earth

at distant shore, you will berth

The end of Angels’ Trail you will see

Lifeless as dust in the wind, we will be

Vibrant and free as a bird, you will soar

In Godspeed your wings find you sooner

No blood, pain, or will you suffer

Here, bounded in grief from tragedy, earth life quiver

Trapped in naked depth of sorrow, we linger

Cloth, wood, soil and stones enfold remains

In earth, we buried with your shell are our souls

In wind, as a dandelion you will lift higher

Earth’s gravity draws darkness, we see death

Hold back tears, your brothers’ will

Hear their songs, when the wind is still

In dirge and tears, sisters call you fond epithets

Where you, dandelion rests, is where Angels’ Trail begins

Follow beside where the lights glow

for darkness, as deep dark wine bestow

swallows where the shadows go

Seek your mother, for she seeks you

Your brother, aunts, uncles, your sister too

In patience, expect they will be for you

at a place where they had once passed Angels’ Trail

Gaze ahead; leave earth with your memories

Be light on your feet for them you will meet

Drowned in sorrow, our heart bleats

Softness is your voice, abound to share among our kin

Rejoice will be, the angels in triumphant

and kin spirits who had long passed The Angels’ Trail

Robert was a handsome, healthy, living young man in his mid twenties. He was buried today in my village, Wagang. His life was taken tragically last week in a car accident, leaving behind his two young children – aged 14 months and 4 years old, and a young wife. Robert went for a ride with our other cousins. They were all sober and picking up another cousin sister at Nadzab Airport, 40 minutes from Lae City, Papua New Guinea where he met his death in the tragic accident. The details of the accident are not known to me nor my brother who made the call to me. Four others are in  critical condition at Angau General Hospital, Lae. Those of you that follow my blog, Robert was the third son of my Aunty Yellow (Yang Yang) who died last year. She was instrumental in my upbringing and specifically, my traditional fishing and dancing skills. Robert was a little brother.

Stories, writing

A reading from Chris Abani

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Chris_Abani
Chris Abani Credit:Centrum

I am a great admirer of Chris Abani’s work. I found from the archives of the Port Townsend Writers’ Conference,  a reading by Chris Abani from three of his books and I wanted to share it here. The link to the podcast is at the bottom of Abani’s introduction.

For those who do not know, Chris Abani is a novelist, poet, essayist, screenwriter and playwright. Born in Nigeria to an Igbo father and English mother, he grew up in Afikpo, Nigeria, received a BA in English from Imo State University, Nigeria, an MA in English, Gender and Culture from Birkbeck College, University of London and a PhD in Literature and Creative Writing from the University of Southern California. He has resided in the United States since 2001.

Awards

He is the recipient of the PEN USA Freedom-to-Write Award, the Prince Claus Award, a Lannan Literary Fellowship, a California Book Award, a Hurston/Wright Legacy Award, a PEN Beyond the Margins Award, the PEN Hemingway Book Prize and a Guggenheim Award.

Some of Abani’s fiction includes The Secret History of Las Vegas (Penguin 2014), Song For Night *(Akashic, 2007), *The Virgin of Flames (Penguin, 2007), Becoming Abigail (Akashic, 2006), GraceLand (FSG, 2004), and Masters of the Board (Delta, 1985).

His poetry collections are Sanctificum (Copper Canyon Press, 2010), There Are No Names for Red (Red Hen Press, 2010), Feed Me The Sun – Collected Long Poems *(Peepal Tree Press, 2010) *Hands Washing Water (Copper Canyon, 2006), Dog Woman (Red Hen, 2004),Daphne’s Lot (Red Hen, 2003) and *Kalakuta Republic *(Saqi, 2001).

His latest publication is, The Face. A Cartography of the Void (September 2014).

http://centrum.org/2014/04/podcast-chris-abani-reading-from-the-2009-port-townsend-writers-conference/

Life, Living, Stories

Overtime – Earning more or Losing more?

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One of the things I love about being older and having “been there, done that” is that I am beginning to understand what life is all about. Everything is starting to make a lot more sense. I keep learning and one of those things I have come to realise was, how much time I have spent/lost in a nine to five job. The nine to five job routine has never appealed to me. Sometimes I wonder if I had gained enough money doing that extra time in comparison to the living that I have lost.

Sadly, we are conditioned to believe that our nine to five job IS what life is all about. We often get stuck in the routine…forever! Before we know it, we are too old to enjoy what we truly aspire to do. I wasn’t going to blog about “overtime” tonight – really.

It was London Live celebrating the National Poetry Day and while listening to some poetry I came across Mr Gee’s interpretation of the 9 to 5 job and the More Overtime. I could not have put my view about a day job any better. Mr Gee’s spoken word inspired this post. I would like to put it out there that if there is something good you really want to do in life – go and do it!