I’ve heard the tale of Yonder Land
Where air is hale and gold, the sand;
‘Tis said the way to Yonder Land,
Be full of dread that minds go bland,
For even the brave have lost heart
And their courage, torn apart;
But ’tis also said of a part
Of men who though, they having warts,
Reached the Land and now recant tales;
Of the Land where no man is pale
For there’s no noise, nor is there rale,
For all there are hearty and hale
And the Ruler there is good and kind;
For His heart is set on mankind
For He seeks that all men should find
His Land so joy will fill his mind.
I was also told tales of the King
Who for love’s sake, gave everything;
And called all with their load to bring
So He’ll carry them; so they can sing;
For ’tis said the symphony there
Is pleasant music to the ear,
For all men do is rejoice there
For the King is glad at men’s cheer
I heard that there’s only one Way
But some miss it, even at day
And for it, they dearly pay
To find it, I was told to pray
Indeed my heart was filled with cheer
For men’s tales said I need no tier,
But I was told to expel fear
And not grow weary and despair.
So I was given A Guidebook
So that I will know where to look;
As well as follow every nook
Even though I be called a kook.
To be continued…


Growing up was fun
When all we did was rhyme
Play, play, and sing songs
Not minding time pass by
While we watched our planes
Fly high high up the sky
Or our kites being flown
Kissing the sun in sight
The ground our canvas
Where beauty was expressed
Our pretty drawings
Imprinted from great minds
With nature’s stencil
And whatever we could find
Great masterpieces
From little hands on sand
Who could believe this?
That from little comes grand
Play under the rain
Or water from God’s tap
Watching everything
Trying to know and grasp
What everything was
A longing none could fill
But daily prayers
Made us to know and feel
The reason for life
Passing by each tick tock
Ah! Then came the time
In a split second
What had happened?
O well, it was bound
But I do miss the days
When I was growing
Now I recount memoirs
Years of my grooming
Now on memory’s archive
I sure miss those days
So I dwell in nostalgia
When I need solace
And past days, I’ll remember

© Chukwudi Isaac


Are words mere words?
Or loud whispers?
Our innermost contemplations?
And echoes of our hearts?
But words have meaning
Or at least they ought to have;
Words can bring sorrows or joy
They bear on their wings: tears or smiles,
For by the word of a man
Wars have been fought;
By his utterance
Love also found a place in the heart,
It is believed that ‘talk is cheap’
But it is not cheap when it makes sense
So before you speak
Before a word leave your lips,
Remember your words mirror your heart
And your actions mirror your words
Therefore, be a man or woman of your WORDS…

© Chukwudi Isaac


For food and shelter
A man may falter
But why at his soul’s expense
Lose his common sense?
Indeed life is hard
And the ground is indeed hard;
For even with a man’s till
The earth may yield small still
So do we blame him?
When his demeanour is but grim?
And he thinks of selling his soul
For there’s nothing more to hold
No! I’ll say, ‘Judge no man!’
Who knows, God may have a plan;
If a man but knew his way
He’ll at least know the pay;
For sometimes it seems the price is high
For the way, we seem to ply,
Count the cost
For it is a must!
Lest you pay more for less
And be filled with regrets;
Live love
And let live,
That should be man’s lot
If he but knew his days are not a lot

© Chukwudi Isaac