(One of the poems here: 'Ramadan Soldiers' was publised in the defunct 'Weekend Triumph' newspaper of Sep 8, 2012)
Three years ago, I, along with other two poets were featured as guests at the Creative Writers' Forum under the auspices of the Association of Fiction and Non-Fiction Writers (AFINOW), at the Federal College of Education (FCE) Kano, New Site hall. During the session, I presented my one and only pamphlet of poetry, edited by Dr Isma'il Bala of Bayero University Kano, which I now decided to share with you here as it originally is, in other words, the poems in the pamphlet remain unchanged as they were during the presentation with no editing afterwards.
When I had come onstage on that very day, I was greatly motivated by the deafening applause of the mammoth audience welcoming my humble self on board. As the noise subsided, I instantly set the ball rolling, with the audience closely following me by reading the copies in their hands. One thing I still vividly recall was the snatching of the copy I read from my hand immediately I went offstage, by one of my audience who was a smartly dressed and bushy-haired young guy. He didn't get a copy, perhaps due to his late show up. The snatcher, after he succeeded in hiding the pamphlet in his briefcase, apologized for the tension he subjected me to by his violent weird behaviour, he said in a remorseful tone, 'I didn't mean to hurt you Mr. Poet, I couldn't get a copy, and I must go home with one, I feared that if I had demanded the copy from you, in the expected way, you might have given me an excuse, or considering my seriousness to grab a copy, suggest that I should photocopy from someone which to be candid, I can't afford to do, sorry Mr. Bello Sagir Imam...' I couldn't help but to broadly smile and said to the guy: 'Worry not dear, cos no harm done'. What the chap didn't know is that, from the little experience I have as a presenter, I learn that once one's presentation interests the audience, one can hardly retire with his copy, without someone from the audience demands it, for this reason, I always go onstage bearing in mind that, I would readily give my copy to any demander if I'm done with the presentation.
When I completed my reading, and the turn for input from the audience was declared by the chairman of the occasion, Mal. Ibrahim Shu'aibu Tukuntawa, I was corrected, critisized, questioned and equally appreciated by the responsive and enthusiastic audience. And as I was given the chance to react to all the comments, I reacted accordingly.
Below are the poems:
AN OCEAN OF THANKS
(For my mother)
The speaker cherishes no one like her
On her either sides are paradise and hellfire
The last of the Prophets she succeeds
Hundreds Dala in weight her love is to the composer
Damo the whole world knows she is
Manage with the author she did in months
Indeed! The pride and joy of the writer
Into pieces, with the sharpest knife the writer cuts her womb
Ayyururi!!! All and sundry chanted atop their voices
Pious with many fruits she is
Capital offense must it be to deny her a stanza
To compensate her with all Bill Gates is meager
Must to the poet is A to Z Yes, Yes and Yes
"Fatana gareka mace ta gari Muhamman" she sings
The cry of the stanzaman Junior I pray she hears
Firdause God willing is her eternal abode
An ocean of thanks to the supreme she.
THE FUNNIEST JOKE
(For my father)
Lawyer to your polygamy you are
In your family, excellence you dream
For their spoon, syringe, thread and pen you are a bee
Dancing on paper my pen does for your smiles
To many brainy brains your blackboard gives birth
Certainly, laureate of two Nobel Prizes you are
The idea to pay back must be the funniest joke!
Mistaking to be daring to you never I will be
To your departed seeds I pray peace, peace and peace!
With bad company I must be wary of, you preach
Read and keep it up, until the sun rises from the west, you advise
Necessary for me, to prostrate to the lord for giving me you
Ranka ya dade, my enormous praise to you
The cry of the stanza man junior I pray you hear
Rayyan God willing is your eternal abode
RAMADAN SOLDIERS
(Fo bachelors and spinsters)
On hearing the drums, they all run to the parade ground
Some carrying sticks, missiles and guns, while others empty handed
Captain sings song which the rank and file sing after him
He orders quick march which they comply briskly
The parading army shakes the earth with their heavy footsteps
Gwaro! Gwauro!! Gwaro!!!
On top of their voices they shout in unison to the beating of the drums
This Ramadan, from my 'shago' I over hear their noisy approach
So noisy, they can wake up the dead
I sneak and close the door which later becomes their base
They all come to attention waiting for the next order
The captain parades them away, assuming I am not around
Why do they attack only the bachelors sparing the spinsters?
Having gone away from their base
They all come to attention again and their commander murmurs something, they respond yes sir!
They about turn and check my door again
As they are about to throw missile and shoot in my room
The captain whispers "let us leave him now, later we take him by surprise"
Oh Allah! Allow me to pay my dowry soon, so next Ramadan they will remove me from their enemy list!
Thanks for reading!
All Rights Reserved
(C) Bello Sagir Imam 25th Nov. 2012.
