THE POEM AND ESSAY
Did I not see your face in
the beauty sky?
nothing in my eyes still
twinkled so bright
and night's veil never hid
thy beauty-light?
O child of mild ember and
glowing
pride of brightened African
tribe, coined bringer of culture''
whom thought you to smile
from
the belly of no lessons? Was
is it not your mother's
wondrous blood and blessings?
non hath sands seen your
marking
foot, but faces have your
prints of
joyous laughter to always
cherish
o the playgrounds await your
tender
hands and crafty mold,
build our earth and build
life in both ways
'tis you that I saw in a
mid-day dream
that outshone the sun
come o blessed child and
gather your pearls
you are the halleluiahs of
the tolling bell
and the thousand amen to a
prayer.
COMMENTARY
Ode to his birth is the recognition of
birth the poet celebrates and writes in thanksgiving offering of a new life
unveiled into this world. Ogba recognizes that birth has become important
because of death as an exchange in ill hands. He admires that since death takes
away life, brings sorrows to the heart and birth brings life, gives joy to the
heart, birth should be celebrated sooner than now. This poem is a fair contrast
of a dirge.
LINES ANALYSIS
LINE 1-5
The poet refer to the infant
child’s face as the sky that brings hope to look on to. The child of ember is
typically African and shows the strength of the miners in the field.
LINE 6-10
In line six the poet
identifies the child as the coming together of two cultures to give birth to a
new one. The child becomes a symbol unity among the parent.
He went further on to say
that the unionism emerged from the mother and the father’s wondrous blood.
LINE 10-15
This tenth line is basically
the waiting patience of the parents in anticipation of the child and line
fifteen crowned it ‘the playground awaits your crafty molds’
LINE 15-20
These lines follow the
fifteenth line as it welcomes the child to enter the earth and add his
contribution and there by find his own share of treasurers.
THE ESSAY
SONGS OF CHILDHOOD
There are moments once lost
that cannot be regained, in both childhood and adulthood. Adulthood is too
stable and idle of memory making activities, childhood is the most wondrous of
the both filled with self made adventures. A song of childhood could be a
sorrowful dirge and it could be a joyous ode, both deserve their set say
praises and accolades.
Were we not birthed from the
loin of our mother before we sprang as infants? Did we not grow from little in
size into giant men and women whom were once children? Did we not fall and rise
on the climbing hills of life countless of times? Did we not learn the truth
from our chasing of doves by day and attempting to predict the grab of
fireflies at night?
Those are the songs of
childhood that will forever echo in eternity.
I could still smell the scent
of roasted corn from afar as it is carried with the wind while we are in the
field chasing butterflies that their stay was always flickering from our grab.
This all the beauty we came and met the store how nature still kept it for us
to admire its wonders, by birth our mothers gave us the gift of their name and
blessings. We are welcomed with warm embracing arms, all pain hidden to us by
our mother as she take to lime so we could have sweet wine.
This many songs sings of the
flute of magical moments that tells of childhood remembrance that never chooses
to forget the love in the corn field, the gathering of sticks to make horses
that rides our strength but still was beautiful. Do you remember when we use to
sing about the weather and wish that it should go away once the earth has had
enough to drink and unbelie the rest into the rivers as it flows down the
creek?
Oh it was the dreams of
having a rowing boat to chase the running river and see where it merry to an
end as it was the time when being lost is finding ones way to unconquered
lands.
There was no treasure mighty
enough in our keeping pockets to measure the happiness that we feel for being
children.
The traumas of childhood too
cannot be forgotten, the malaria that afflicts fever on our body from the
gutters of stagnant water and poverty, nights and nights of cold and gnashing
of the teeth.
How can one speak of
childhood traumas without mentioning child abuse? Swordspears quoted “we are
forged from coal of burning ember, we were burnt and we are black and African”
this simply refer o the African childhood nature characterized as a burning
coal.
1 comments:
Wow wow. Poetry at its best. The explanation really helped. This is beautiful.
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