Poet-Today | Abdulrahman Mohammed Abu-Yaman | The Arts-Muse fair

LIFE AND TIMES OF SHAMGBO GBARA

Shamgbo, the primus inter pares of

Gbara land. Not to be confused  with Sango-

the god of thunder in Yoruba land.

Synonymous to both was their in-built thunder.

Unlike the latter, Shamgbo- my maternal

grandpa was a  calm thunder.

His words were as soft as silk but

as sagacious as Solomon's.

The light skinned old man had the three

famed Nupe tribal marks on both

sides of his cheeks striped keener to his

mouth diagonally.

Visiting Shamgbo from far away, he would

crack jokes with Yadogi, my brother, about

an imaginary eya-fiti he promised to gift him

but yet to touchdown despite squillions of

naira expended on its proposed runways.

Shamgbo had a small square-sized parlour

small enough not be rectangular but large

enough to accommodate millions of hearts

Antiquities and mishmash of ancient

paraphernalia were clustered in the

living room.

Shamgbo while lounging on his

spring bed would decline my offer to

fan him with his tsofengi and would say

"who am I?" humbling himself down

to earth.

Shamgbo would have me unfoot my

footwear before squatting down to

greet elders as per culture.

Shamgbo grew infirm and on his sickbed,

he predicted +15 years for himself after

 he overcomes his illness.

Grandpa died on the 15th of

that same month.

Perhaps his earlier prediction was to install

on us our lost confidence and happiness,

two of which were vanished during his

protracted illness.

RIP Shamgbo Gbara!

Footnotes

Gbara land: an ancient city in Nupe kingdom situated in the middle belt of Nigeria where the first paramount ruler of the Nupe kingdom emerged.

Shamgbo: a title in gbara land conferred on the most prominent personality who has distinguished himself among his contemporaries.

Sango: (pronounced as Shongo)the god of thunder in Yoruba mythology.

Eya-fiti: aeroplane.

Tsofengi: local hand fan made of palm raffia.

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REAL COLOURS

Been living in a world of

black and white.

Monotonous monochrome!

Was ignorant of other colours

till our paths crossed each other

and you showed me your

real colours.

The first colour I saw was blue,

light blue of the iris in your eyes

housing a crescent in your pupils.

Wow!

The first time I saw red was when

you took a bullet for me

Unforgettable!

I got to know green when you showed

me the shape of your heart

Unlike others, yours was lemon green.

Unique!

Your lips introduced me to pink.

Don't get it twisted, it was all natural

No lipstick attached.

And your laughter revealed yellow to me

shinning on your beautiful dentition

Lovely!

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BEAUTY FLAWED

What's a beauty without a flaw?

Incomplete! Can you invade a rose bush

without going through its sentinels of

thorns armed with piercing needles?

What a beauty that repels her lovers!

Indeed beauty is flawed.

What would the full moon look like

without the solar reflection?

But as beautiful as the full moon glows

its craters are there to stay

Who says beauty is not flawed?

Our dear beautiful butterfly...

weighing almost zero kilograms

floats like snowflakes

but she is often incarcerated

in a whirlwind; powerless and helpless

denying such a beautiful creature her

liberty of mobility

Another beauty flawed.

As beautiful as the rainbow paints the sky,

it's spectrums are quite blurry and ephemeral

The manifestation is even subject to some rare

atmospheric combination and permutations

Isn't this beauty flawed?

Da Vinci's Monalisa may be super beautiful

but what is in a beauty with countless

counterfeits of striking resemblances to

the real McCoy?

Yet, another beauty flawed.

Oh Paris! You may be the most beautiful

city in the world, but the first image that comes

to mind when you are mentioned is nothing but

a giant triangular nest of steel with a giraffe neck

looking down on your parks and gardens, city lights

and satellite towns

Beauty flawed.

Miss Peacock with her beautiful long feathers

that intoxicates both the holder and the beholder

is too proud to socialize with others

due to her pride of course

Beauty is flawed.

Dear beauties all over the universe

Without your flaws, incomplete you are!

For your flaws polishes your beauty to shine!

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Abdulrahman Mohammed Abu-yaman is writer and accidental Economist. He occasionally moves out of his comfort zone, which has led him to discover other abilities like art and calligraphy, which he now alternates with poetry and other forms of literature. He performed at the Abuja Literary Society Poetry slam 2016 and exhibited his art and calligraphy works at an art exhibition in Gusau Institute, Kaduna. His poems have been featured in Kalahari Review, London Grip, Asian Signature, Brittle Paper, Sentinel Literary Quarterly and in Daily Trust Newspapers. He loves watermelons, sarcasms, decent fashion and a little friend called perfume. He tweets @abuu_yaman