April 2016

In Praise of Arik Air

Here is the heretofore of our lack and dis-order: 

the flight attendants have disappeared

the stands are empty... 

the passengers are asking questions of delays

the engineers are fixing the stereo playing Eminado in the streets 

there's the tail of the plane,

resting,

supine in the hangar

in the cockpit, no captain

there's a jet silence here 

no alto pitch of the announcer's message

the aluta anger is in the air...

(R) 20/4/16

 

Nigerian, Poetry, Mallorca: The Temperate Encounter

Destination was Palma de Mallorca, an island of Spain. I had been invited to participate at the 12th Mediterranean Poetry Festival which held from May 31 to June 3, 2010.

Traveller that I had been, I knew well enough that each trip etches its own map on the memory, sometimes with the colour of vengeance or a halo of tenderness. Also, I knew that imagination had to be a subjective judge of history, opting to remember, retain or forget things hurled at us by the reality of encounters. So let me start, abruptly.