CUP.
Carried up promptly.
A stretch of the abbreviation,
CUP.
Carried up promptly
Nimbly.
By the able hands of Destiny
Bestowed by the Almighty.
Carried up promptly,
Nimbly.
And ever so gently
Ere the culprits separated, stealthily
From the unsightly strategy
To rub out a God given destiny
From God's child,
In a dungeon so craftily
Set up with a trapped destiny,
Resigned, clueless.
Traps and tags,unknown to the trapped,
Then carefully connected to cap
God's given destiny, and to sap
The rich enchanting quality
Filling the cup, the divine cup
Of God's bounty, running over.
CUP.
Carried up promptly,
Nimbly.
God's child is aloft, soaring,
Smoothly.
Nwada (Lady) Chinwe Enemchukwu
Onye Uwa Oma
na Orlando, Florida.
Copyright 08/05 2010.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Above, a simple evening outfit is transformed by a headgear, modelled,
courtesy of the craftswoman. The outfit immediately acquired an African,
specifically Nigerian flair to it.
Headgear or headtie are the English names;
Ichafu,Gele in Nigerian tongues;
Whichever you call it,
It is still that piece Nigerian women
Adorn themselves with,along with
the traditional attire, usually
well coordinated to match and
make a resounding fashion statement.
Firmly perched on the head, this piece
completes any outfit,lifting an ordinary
outfit out of the dungeons to outstanding.
Transforming a good outfit to new heights
in the fantastic mode.
It is not a hat, fits like a hat, but
definitely not a hat.
A hat retains the same shape for its
life time, stored in a box for safety.
The headgear is adaptable, can change
like a chameleon, though not in color,
in style,to match any outfit.
Trust the able hands of craftswomen and lately
men,to fold,bend and pin the mostly stiff
fabric, into various forms and styles to top
a wide range of fashion styles.
Gele can now top off jeans outfits, an
evening gown, Asoke, Lace, Akwete, Ankara and
various traditional fabrics and tailoring styles.
Ichafu is now worn by both young and old.
Used to be the trademark of madams, married
women and adult women.
But no more.
Teenagers, young brides and their ladies in waiting,
file out in traditional outfits topped with gorgeous
headgear to match their glowing young faces.
Ichafu is in for all.
The bigger and brighter, the better.
Showing off the incredible talent of Nigerians,
Male and female, young and old.
Nigerians make fashion statements galore;
Really hard to ignore, noticed and admired
By many eyes beholding them.
But that's about it.
The rush of over twenty years ago, by Africans
outside Africa,
To wear African, really Nigerian attire quietly died off.
The Mandela's visit and outing
decked in gorgeous African gear,
sparked an appreciation of such
and a strong demand. It lasted for a while.
What actually killed it,nobody knows.
The cumbersome nature of such outfits?
Could it be the same creativity Nigerians are known for?
Flooding the world with fraudulent mail and
activities, leaving a bad taste in the mouth of many,
thereby killing Nigeria's reputation and everything Nigerian?
Flooring each other every chance Nigerians get?
Fleeing their homeland in large numbers no matter
the risk?
Being viewed as jokers?
Since they are the happiest people on earth,despite
the hellish atmosphere in the homeland?
Re-branding Nigeria may take off with gusto
tapping into the creativity of Nigerians.
With the right environment,atmosphere,
infrastructure and mindset,
The incredible talent of Nigerians can be
garnished, put together and put out to
give Nigerians jobs, pride and a new headgear.
The world will catch on one more time.
Undoubtedly.
Nwada (Lady) Chinwe Enemchukwu
Onye Uwa Oma
na Orlando, Florida
Copyright: 7/17/2010
Saturday, June 26, 2010
The Hunt
Pouncing like a cornered tigress
which just saw a chance,
The feline of Asian forests
Endangered
Tawny coat,stripes and all.
Tired of being hunted
by ruthless hunters for
her coat,cubs and all.
Total annihilation on their mind.
As in extermination, eradication,
As in obliteration, complete destruction,
of the tawny feline and her line.
They push unrelenting on her trail
Trekked years with young by her tail
Hanging for dear life without fail.
The hunters lunging as with swords
A menacingly brutal throng
On the tigress and her young,
One last swoop, the kill is made
Or so they thought.
Till the hunter became the hunt
Bloodied by the tawny gentle striped beast.
The throng scattered around
Befuddled.
Nwada (Lady) Chinwe Enemchukwu
Onye Uwa Oma
na orlando, Florida
Copyright June 26 2010
which just saw a chance,
The feline of Asian forests
Endangered
Tawny coat,stripes and all.
Tired of being hunted
by ruthless hunters for
her coat,cubs and all.
Total annihilation on their mind.
As in extermination, eradication,
As in obliteration, complete destruction,
of the tawny feline and her line.
They push unrelenting on her trail
Trekked years with young by her tail
Hanging for dear life without fail.
The hunters lunging as with swords
A menacingly brutal throng
On the tigress and her young,
One last swoop, the kill is made
Or so they thought.
Till the hunter became the hunt
Bloodied by the tawny gentle striped beast.
The throng scattered around
Befuddled.
Nwada (Lady) Chinwe Enemchukwu
Onye Uwa Oma
na orlando, Florida
Copyright June 26 2010
Saturday, June 19, 2010
DIASPORANS
Sizzling like whistling kettles
Running out of steam,
Despite the heightened heat
from the stoked fire beneath.
Fire stoked daily by bad winds
Hurling from the homeland.
Deadly winds, brutal as the harmattan
Fanning the fire and scorching the skin
of diasporans already double stretched thin.
The whistle, now a mournful whine
Emitting from once courageous souls
Weary from encompassing hopelessness,
Warding off hardship in the host land,
Terrified by surrounding wickedness.
Saddened by frequent untimely passing.
Plain finding it ever harder to stand
The whirlwind life of foreign lands.
Still they struggle to increase the pace,
Trying much harder to transform the race,
Straining daily to get it in stride,
And by so doing,surely control the tide,
And with that success,make it to shore,
From all indications, having tried for sure.
They beat themselves to messy pulp
Taking more than possible in a gulp.
They whistle and sizzle wildly, blowing
Twirling steam in an urgent puff,
Scorching white puff, nothing more.
Like whistling kettles working ever so hard
To give more steam, scorching steam, words
Useless for the problem on hand
But ever so harmful nonetheless.
Nwada (Lady) Chinwe Enemchukwu
Onye Uwa Oma
na Orlando, Florida.
Copyright © June 19 2010
Running out of steam,
Despite the heightened heat
from the stoked fire beneath.
Fire stoked daily by bad winds
Hurling from the homeland.
Deadly winds, brutal as the harmattan
Fanning the fire and scorching the skin
of diasporans already double stretched thin.
The whistle, now a mournful whine
Emitting from once courageous souls
Weary from encompassing hopelessness,
Warding off hardship in the host land,
Terrified by surrounding wickedness.
Saddened by frequent untimely passing.
Plain finding it ever harder to stand
The whirlwind life of foreign lands.
Still they struggle to increase the pace,
Trying much harder to transform the race,
Straining daily to get it in stride,
And by so doing,surely control the tide,
And with that success,make it to shore,
From all indications, having tried for sure.
They beat themselves to messy pulp
Taking more than possible in a gulp.
They whistle and sizzle wildly, blowing
Twirling steam in an urgent puff,
Scorching white puff, nothing more.
Like whistling kettles working ever so hard
To give more steam, scorching steam, words
Useless for the problem on hand
But ever so harmful nonetheless.
Nwada (Lady) Chinwe Enemchukwu
Onye Uwa Oma
na Orlando, Florida.
Copyright © June 19 2010
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
SILENCE AND GOLD
Silence is linked with Gold
As in the American proverb--
"Silence is golden, speech is silver"
A very wise proverb indeed,
stressing the precious value of gold.
But never has silence been so
directly linked with Gold, or to the hunt of it,
As in the villages of Zamfara State,
where the rush for the precious metal
In an abandoned open mine,
Has dealt hard blows to the mettle
Of many in Zamfara and the world.
Silence, deafening silence, no longer golden
to the ears of villagers who now
live with silence, day after day,
night after night.
Silence in place of childish chatter
and laughter, and play, and loving, all
no longer possible.
Utter silence.
Children led away by death, holding
hands with Lead, from the mine of Gold.
Leaving behind, silence, no longer Golden.
Nwada Chinwe Enemchukwu,
Onye ụwa ọma
na Orlando, FLorida.
Copyright © June 8 2010.
As in the American proverb--
"Silence is golden, speech is silver"
A very wise proverb indeed,
stressing the precious value of gold.
But never has silence been so
directly linked with Gold, or to the hunt of it,
As in the villages of Zamfara State,
where the rush for the precious metal
In an abandoned open mine,
Has dealt hard blows to the mettle
Of many in Zamfara and the world.
Silence, deafening silence, no longer golden
to the ears of villagers who now
live with silence, day after day,
night after night.
Silence in place of childish chatter
and laughter, and play, and loving, all
no longer possible.
Utter silence.
Children led away by death, holding
hands with Lead, from the mine of Gold.
Leaving behind, silence, no longer Golden.
Nwada Chinwe Enemchukwu,
Onye ụwa ọma
na Orlando, FLorida.
Copyright © June 8 2010.
Saturday, May 22, 2010
ANOTHER ONE BITES THE DUST.
An elderly gentleman lives with his son and family next door to me. Next door neighbors they are for sure but it is not like in apartment or townhouse buildings or subdivisions where you can touch the next house.
I still have to get in the car, drive down the dirt driveway to the country highway, wait for traffic, sometimes cars speeding like there is no tomorrow, make a right turn to their house.
Like the day I had to return his injured pigeon which I had rescued from a kite. I had it wrapped in an old jacket and placed it on my lap as I drove. It was late in the evening and was almost dark.
I rang the doorbell and after what seemed like forever, I had some noises and he opened the door. It was in the wintertime and one of the few spells of cold weather in Florida. That was part of why I had the pigeon wrapped up in the jacket, plus my fear that he would get more injured if I left him loose. Already shaken up from the attack, he was flapping wildly after
I rescued him. I took a close look at his wound which was not very big, but was deep and bruised. With such a puncture wound, I wasn't sure if the pigeon would make it.
I apologized to my neighbor for disturbing them and he said it was alright as he was just relaxing. I handed him the bundle in the jacket and explained that I had witnessed the attack on one of his pigeons and had rescued it. His eyes opened in surprise and he gently took the jacket,unwrapped it and gently lifted the pigeon out and examined his wound. He looked up thanking me " He'll make it" he said nodding his head in the affirmative."Thank yo so much, poor fellow, he sure took a beating, but he'll be just fine. I'll go dress his wound and
and let him rest and start recuperating. Thanks a bunch" He took the pigeon inside and I left.
As I got in my car to drive next door, I had many thoughts go through my mind. First and foremost, did I have any right to snatch an evening meal from that hungry kite? If the pigeon dies, what was all my heroic effort for, and how many times do we get rescued from the evil one who is constantly looking for someone who he may devour? I never inquired of the pigeon again probably for fear of getting a negative answer. Since then once in a while, I would come home to see feathers or remains of a killed pigeon in the yard and I would think to myself, there goes one which didn't get away or get rescued.
My neighbor raises homing pigeons for a hobby. His pigeons, several dozen of them live in two large pigeon houses facing my property, facing west, the setting sun. Everyday, like clockwork, these birds do their routine, flying in patterns like jets moving in synchronized flights and they would do patterns, over and over before going back into their houses. He stands and watches as they practice, sometimes blowing a whistle or waving a flag at them.
He came over one day and said he wanted to know if it's alright for his pigeons to sit on my roof as they trained and I said it w as fine with me. I sometimes stand to watch the free performance for a while and the pigeons seem to notice and put up a show for me, sometimes swooping down so close to me. I had observed that these pigeons take a lot of training to get good to perform at functions like weddings, funerals and other civic functions. They put in their show and then can fly many miles home without getting lost.Watching them train is very interesting. When he opens the door to the pigeon house and they start flying out in rows and then make their flying formation and then do their routines, over and over until he blows his whistle and they come back.Sometimes they would go back and try to enter and by waving the brightly colored flag, which signifies not yet, sends them up again, air bound and to do more routines. Sometimes one or two would break off and fly on their own, only yo hurry back and join the formation again.
The first time I saw an injured pigeon, my neighbor had come over and the doorbell sent me to the door. He was asking for permission to pick up his injured pigeon on my side of the fence. He had the pigeon in his hand and explained that it was attacked by a kite. I assured him that it was alright to come over and rescue his pigeons on my side anytime. Not too long after that I witnessed the attack myself. taking the trash bins to the highway, I noticed the birds were making their patterned flights overhead and I stopped to watch for a few minutes. Suddenly, one of them seemed to fall out of the sky and hit the grass with a thud. I looked and there on the grass lay a pigeon with another bird on top of it, taking quick jabs at its chest. I remembered my neighbor asking for permission to rescue his bird not too long ago. I left the trash bins and ran over there as the kite reluctantly left the pigeon and flew off. The pigeon was so frightened and traumatized that it just kept flapping and trying to stand. I picked it up and after flapping a few more times, it stopped but I could feel the trembling of his entire body. I examined the wound and found out that the kite was heading for the heart with his sharp beak. The wound looked deep and bloody as I wrapped the pigeon and took him over to the owner for treatment. From examining unlucky pigeons found dead and half eaten, I realized that the predators go for the heart and other vital organs which they eat and then leave the bulk of the bird untouched.
I still get to watch the free shows put out by the pigeons every once in a while. The skies of my yard offer them good training grounds and I don't mind it one bit. Sometimes some of them settle on the roof and the dog does not pay them any attention anymore. Even the whistle call for their training and the big brightly painted circle marking the entrance to their cage are part of life now, not noticed anymore. I have not seen a left over bird on my grass lately and I don't know if the pigeons got smarter or the kites got tired, moved somewhere else, or attacks them elsewhere.
Whatever it is I am glad because seeing those carcasses used to sadden me reminding me of the human who struggle through life, dodging deadly attacks from the enemy, attacks
on their bodies and souls and every once in a while, another would bite the dust. The sad part is when the soul bites the dust as well. Sad indeed.
Enjoy this special from none other than precious Jim Reeves again reminding us to heed the call which will keep our souls from biting the dust when we do bite the dust. " Softly and tenderly----
Click on link and enjoy.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HxQq5gxI33A
Enjoy and have a great weekend.
Nwada (Lady) Chinwe Enemchukwu
Onye Uwa Oma
na Orlando, Florida
I still have to get in the car, drive down the dirt driveway to the country highway, wait for traffic, sometimes cars speeding like there is no tomorrow, make a right turn to their house.
Like the day I had to return his injured pigeon which I had rescued from a kite. I had it wrapped in an old jacket and placed it on my lap as I drove. It was late in the evening and was almost dark.
I rang the doorbell and after what seemed like forever, I had some noises and he opened the door. It was in the wintertime and one of the few spells of cold weather in Florida. That was part of why I had the pigeon wrapped up in the jacket, plus my fear that he would get more injured if I left him loose. Already shaken up from the attack, he was flapping wildly after
I rescued him. I took a close look at his wound which was not very big, but was deep and bruised. With such a puncture wound, I wasn't sure if the pigeon would make it.
I apologized to my neighbor for disturbing them and he said it was alright as he was just relaxing. I handed him the bundle in the jacket and explained that I had witnessed the attack on one of his pigeons and had rescued it. His eyes opened in surprise and he gently took the jacket,unwrapped it and gently lifted the pigeon out and examined his wound. He looked up thanking me " He'll make it" he said nodding his head in the affirmative."Thank yo so much, poor fellow, he sure took a beating, but he'll be just fine. I'll go dress his wound and
and let him rest and start recuperating. Thanks a bunch" He took the pigeon inside and I left.
As I got in my car to drive next door, I had many thoughts go through my mind. First and foremost, did I have any right to snatch an evening meal from that hungry kite? If the pigeon dies, what was all my heroic effort for, and how many times do we get rescued from the evil one who is constantly looking for someone who he may devour? I never inquired of the pigeon again probably for fear of getting a negative answer. Since then once in a while, I would come home to see feathers or remains of a killed pigeon in the yard and I would think to myself, there goes one which didn't get away or get rescued.
My neighbor raises homing pigeons for a hobby. His pigeons, several dozen of them live in two large pigeon houses facing my property, facing west, the setting sun. Everyday, like clockwork, these birds do their routine, flying in patterns like jets moving in synchronized flights and they would do patterns, over and over before going back into their houses. He stands and watches as they practice, sometimes blowing a whistle or waving a flag at them.
He came over one day and said he wanted to know if it's alright for his pigeons to sit on my roof as they trained and I said it w as fine with me. I sometimes stand to watch the free performance for a while and the pigeons seem to notice and put up a show for me, sometimes swooping down so close to me. I had observed that these pigeons take a lot of training to get good to perform at functions like weddings, funerals and other civic functions. They put in their show and then can fly many miles home without getting lost.Watching them train is very interesting. When he opens the door to the pigeon house and they start flying out in rows and then make their flying formation and then do their routines, over and over until he blows his whistle and they come back.Sometimes they would go back and try to enter and by waving the brightly colored flag, which signifies not yet, sends them up again, air bound and to do more routines. Sometimes one or two would break off and fly on their own, only yo hurry back and join the formation again.
The first time I saw an injured pigeon, my neighbor had come over and the doorbell sent me to the door. He was asking for permission to pick up his injured pigeon on my side of the fence. He had the pigeon in his hand and explained that it was attacked by a kite. I assured him that it was alright to come over and rescue his pigeons on my side anytime. Not too long after that I witnessed the attack myself. taking the trash bins to the highway, I noticed the birds were making their patterned flights overhead and I stopped to watch for a few minutes. Suddenly, one of them seemed to fall out of the sky and hit the grass with a thud. I looked and there on the grass lay a pigeon with another bird on top of it, taking quick jabs at its chest. I remembered my neighbor asking for permission to rescue his bird not too long ago. I left the trash bins and ran over there as the kite reluctantly left the pigeon and flew off. The pigeon was so frightened and traumatized that it just kept flapping and trying to stand. I picked it up and after flapping a few more times, it stopped but I could feel the trembling of his entire body. I examined the wound and found out that the kite was heading for the heart with his sharp beak. The wound looked deep and bloody as I wrapped the pigeon and took him over to the owner for treatment. From examining unlucky pigeons found dead and half eaten, I realized that the predators go for the heart and other vital organs which they eat and then leave the bulk of the bird untouched.
I still get to watch the free shows put out by the pigeons every once in a while. The skies of my yard offer them good training grounds and I don't mind it one bit. Sometimes some of them settle on the roof and the dog does not pay them any attention anymore. Even the whistle call for their training and the big brightly painted circle marking the entrance to their cage are part of life now, not noticed anymore. I have not seen a left over bird on my grass lately and I don't know if the pigeons got smarter or the kites got tired, moved somewhere else, or attacks them elsewhere.
Whatever it is I am glad because seeing those carcasses used to sadden me reminding me of the human who struggle through life, dodging deadly attacks from the enemy, attacks
on their bodies and souls and every once in a while, another would bite the dust. The sad part is when the soul bites the dust as well. Sad indeed.
Enjoy this special from none other than precious Jim Reeves again reminding us to heed the call which will keep our souls from biting the dust when we do bite the dust. " Softly and tenderly----
Click on link and enjoy.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HxQq5gxI33A
Enjoy and have a great weekend.
Nwada (Lady) Chinwe Enemchukwu
Onye Uwa Oma
na Orlando, Florida
Friday, May 21, 2010
Jim Reeves-------- Nostalgia
Last week, my climbing roses were at the peak of their blooming, with clusters
dark red roses cascading over the climbers they were on. Just looking at and smelling them gave great satisfaction and distraction and what struck me about it is how slowly came up
as buds, then opened up in groups and then a blast of colour at various stages. For almost two weeks, the pair presented a wonderful spectacle and each time I had a minute to look at them or pick some, I wondered about life and the fleeting nature of it.
This week, the blooms are no more, just shrivelled and drying remnants of them, which
must be trimmed off with the branches holding them to make room for the new shoots.
On two occasions, I cut some and took them to work knowing that the blooms would only last a few days.
Life becomes such a hassle that sometimes we forget to give ourselves a little break and
enjoy the very ordinary things God put in place for us, before we made our own gadgets
which actually present more problems for our lives. Thank God for all His creation which
surround us , to bless and encourage us.
The roses have faded today, but the other plants, flowers, onugbu and arimu/ahimu/nchu-anwu, spearmint, and other, are happy and exploding with growth again, with the weeds and grass in tough competition to outdo them. There is never a dull moment out there, in God's nature.
In the evening, it is the red-headed woodpecker who arrive around 5:30 pm to do his/her rap on the tall utility pole across the street---kpo-kpo-kpo-kpo-kpo-kpo-kpo- in a fast steady pecking, then a pause to pick up the carpenter ants. After watching the pecker do the job from a distance, I, one day used a bird watchers binoculars I had found at a thrift shop, adjusting it until it brought the bird so close that I could see what he was doing very well. Concentrating and working very hard, rapping on the pole with the hard beak, quick jabs, then harvest. He had no clue somebody was watching him at work, as he stops to look around to make sure he was safe. Now whenever I am home and I hear the rapping,I watch the pecker for a few minutes and many thoughts go through my mind. How God watches us when we go about our business, doing our thing, watching others or making it look like we are watching them and spreading our report, running around like little robots dizzy with activity and God follows with His ever-seeing eyes. How much we must amuse Him.
That pecker never knows how closely he gets watched sometimes and how easily he can be
aimed at. We rush and stumble through life daily forgetting how close to the edge we get. Only the hands and presence of the Almighty keep us from day to day. May His name be praised.
Enjoy this song from one of the greatest in childhood days with hits like -----My Cathedral, Dark Moon and many others, but this is the best for today------ enjoy it and have a blessed day.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8rKIcYgSf8Y
dark red roses cascading over the climbers they were on. Just looking at and smelling them gave great satisfaction and distraction and what struck me about it is how slowly came up
as buds, then opened up in groups and then a blast of colour at various stages. For almost two weeks, the pair presented a wonderful spectacle and each time I had a minute to look at them or pick some, I wondered about life and the fleeting nature of it.
This week, the blooms are no more, just shrivelled and drying remnants of them, which
must be trimmed off with the branches holding them to make room for the new shoots.
On two occasions, I cut some and took them to work knowing that the blooms would only last a few days.
Life becomes such a hassle that sometimes we forget to give ourselves a little break and
enjoy the very ordinary things God put in place for us, before we made our own gadgets
which actually present more problems for our lives. Thank God for all His creation which
surround us , to bless and encourage us.
The roses have faded today, but the other plants, flowers, onugbu and arimu/ahimu/nchu-anwu, spearmint, and other, are happy and exploding with growth again, with the weeds and grass in tough competition to outdo them. There is never a dull moment out there, in God's nature.
In the evening, it is the red-headed woodpecker who arrive around 5:30 pm to do his/her rap on the tall utility pole across the street---kpo-kpo-kpo-kpo-kpo-kpo-kpo- in a fast steady pecking, then a pause to pick up the carpenter ants. After watching the pecker do the job from a distance, I, one day used a bird watchers binoculars I had found at a thrift shop, adjusting it until it brought the bird so close that I could see what he was doing very well. Concentrating and working very hard, rapping on the pole with the hard beak, quick jabs, then harvest. He had no clue somebody was watching him at work, as he stops to look around to make sure he was safe. Now whenever I am home and I hear the rapping,I watch the pecker for a few minutes and many thoughts go through my mind. How God watches us when we go about our business, doing our thing, watching others or making it look like we are watching them and spreading our report, running around like little robots dizzy with activity and God follows with His ever-seeing eyes. How much we must amuse Him.
That pecker never knows how closely he gets watched sometimes and how easily he can be
aimed at. We rush and stumble through life daily forgetting how close to the edge we get. Only the hands and presence of the Almighty keep us from day to day. May His name be praised.
Enjoy this song from one of the greatest in childhood days with hits like -----My Cathedral, Dark Moon and many others, but this is the best for today------ enjoy it and have a blessed day.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8rKIcYgSf8Y
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