Insight With Amarachi

Arinze Marycynthia and Ubaka Maryjane both from St John of God Secondary School Awka were the first and second runners-up in the just concluded Fides Young Writers Contest, poetry category. Below are their very wonderful entries.


By Arinze Chinecherem Marycynthia 

St John of God Secondary School, Awka

A loud jungle drum would be telegraphing,
At the cry of me the baby boy
Streams of happiness flowing here and there
The midwives singing and chanting
A great cheer to man who is my father
Nodding and boasting his shoulders.

The woman would be set free, from her husbands’ mother
From those pathway gossipers, no more grief,
A nice soup for her, a nice robe for her
A son, a boy, a man, a divine blessing
Sitting always near men like me
Taking this or that drinking wine
All these, the future men do.

I would boast my tiny muscles out
There at the pathways of the stream, for girls to see
I hear their chuckles and their admires
Yes, the big man I am
They would hear me say, I would pull down hundred rocks
Many mountains and thousand beasts
No doubt, no sneer
Even those impossible to the eyes of the gods.

I then sit at the middle, always in the middle
Raising and dropping my staff
Even though in parasol of confusion
If I do not say, no one would say
And if I do not do, there won’t be ado

I am going to take decision
Like the jungle king the almighty lion
Still to last day of my breath
One step out of my age
One step to my greatness on earth.

Years to come, in centuries to grow
I would always be remembered
My tales always told, soon a myth to become
Never would my name chatter
Children, children and sons, sons would bear my name
I would be a legend and never in years to perish.



Ubaka Maryjane Onyinye
St John of God Secondary School, Awka


All the chaos of a past war
I try to remember not
Those sounds of canon
Here and there they boom
Children both young and ripe,
Running for cover
Parents shouting for their pride to come
I try to see not images behind me.

The thorns and thugs of a wicked world
Hammering on innocent ones
The nail of past deed
Punishing the guilty-not
Of crimes committed by ancestors not known
I try to see not images behind me.

The songs of a heartbroken maiden
As she tries to forget,
The events of the past
Those circling round the tree
With the one she love
The life which I live
I try to see not images behind me.

Images of those happy moments past
Of childhood fantasies
Crowning the path of childishness
Those days of nude running
Under the waters of heaven
Now gone to ages beyond
I try to see not images behind me.

The adventures of a man at forty,
With nothing to show for it
Not even a pin to falsify his foolery
To prove wrong the world
That a fool at forty he is
Imaginary of what my life could be
Trying hard not to see images behind me.

Images of what life could be
With a country full of hope
And opportunities to live on
Without even a nag
About how bad the country is
I try to see not images behind me.