Casmire Emeribe 2 years ago
@Saviocassidy 2 min read Write a comment #poem-poetry


This is a poem dedicated to school teacher who never taught me in the classroom but I learnt a lot visiting his house to waiting his son for morning mass when both were members of altar servers. He would always give me advice and moral ethics and always caution me not to come and wait for his lazy son

Cor! I write not to praise this scholar
But to express my mixed blessings
I cried tears run like raindrops
My eyes grew misty that black Friday
My tales are neither confabulation nor sob stories
His words some worth
A boon to my success
Memories of my childhood
Are hazy and episodic
I recall those days of yore
He would cajole me
To make precious of my time
As I always wait patiently for his son
I speak now from the brooding silence
Of a man-
Whose virtue and honor precedes him
Can be equated to a priest
Whose death shone above his contemporaries?
And unify his kinsmen
Clove into group aside
His last words were mysteries
Hitherto his slight stoical acceptance
Of death is gallantry
He stood for what he believed
Even when he is perceive
To be alone in his views
To defile the mantra “Umunna wu ike”

Dedicated to sir Raphael Ikpeama Chilaka
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