by Okoye Chukwudi Charles Ezeamalukwuo
I did not know her; the crazed girl,
Young, petite and dressed in rag.
I did not care much for her rumblings,
The music of her tin cans,
Stale and devoid of meaning.
No! I did not lose sleep over her at all,
Nor did I stopped to trace the remnants of her dreams,
The purpose for her being, or of her lives
Long lost in the perennial passage of time.
It was a fateful morning, when the sky was blue
And the flowers were all dressed in harmattan’s grey,
I saw her, naked, bare with nothing to hide,
With nothing to protect herself from the world
Save her madness, the illness of her mind.
Children; they followed her, clapping and laughing
And the old ones stood by their huts and watched her rave.
Ah! What human eyes will look and not blink?
What mouth will swallow and not speak for her?
And standing there I could not help but ask,
Twelve moons have gone and still I ask;
Is it he who made the heavens and earth,
The oceans equally as fair and me
Is it he that made this madness and she?
Or does the universe plays still her lute.
Indifferent always,
Waggling her tongue at all of humanity.
Note: I remembered this incident today more than 12 months after, it was a clear harmattan morning when I saw her, the crazed girl, stark naked running in the street. I haven’t thought of it that much since, till this morning and these lines took shape.
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Lyriversity — Liberty of Creativity
Lyriversity 
A pathetic poem.
Pathetic…hmmm that’s quite strong. Why do you say so?
The poem narrated how the crazed girl behaved. Her attitude on the street stark naked shows that she has been mad for long. And you remembring about your encounter with her in the boulevard, birthed this poem to hold our hearts with her pathetic and sorrowful weaves.
I don’t subscribe to the title, especially the use of such adjective as ‘crazed’. You don’t call someone mad, who thinks him/herself sane. I’m sure that if you ask the girl, she’d be the first to call you ‘crazy’ man.
People in that level of being sometimes stun us with their level of reasoning. Although I cannot say for certain iif they are above or below the ‘norman’ person, yet I can say that they do almost all the things we do, including reproduction.
And coming to the question if,
“Is it he who made the heavens and earth,
The oceans equally as fair and me
Is it he that made this madness and she?
Or does the universe plays still her indifferent lute
Waggling her tongue at all of humanity.”
I’ve not seen anybody that is born mad. Lots of factor could lead to it. So the creator cannot and should not be blamed for that.
Nice poem though. Seems to me like your muse has returned. Keep writing.
Ah Mr Chime, u shared some of deeper sentiments. Yes, we called her Crazed, but in her world she might be the wisest of us all.
I do not blame God, i do not know if anyone is born mad…but i only asked a question…is it Him at made this, is it him that made anything at all or Is the Universe some random mistake, a mischiveous girl who plays still her lute, indifferent to us all, waggling her tongue to all of Humanity.
I wrote a poem some years back, its title is, CORK-EYED WORLD. It contains my conception of creation and the rest.
Below are excerpts from it:
“This is their genealogy:
In the beginning there were Nothing
Passing through a vast expanse
Laughing at the Solitude therein,
Solitude came out, out of anger
For who could be disturbing its peace.
They collided and caused a big bang:
The beginning of the beginning, and a gale
Which carried on and on, particles
From both until it got wearied
And lost grip of the elements
Which got split at once, the heavier
Elements sank below, the lighter ones
Spranged up immediately and formed
Heaven and earth, never to join again.
They became resentful of each other but
The elements keep splitting or merging
Into other forms wherever possible
And co-adapting whenever possible.”
…
…”the elements keep splitting
Each according to its specie
By mutation, adaptation, adoption,
Nature selects what survives.
A very slow process in the beginning.
First earth produced trees for shade,
Against the haughty sun.
Then there was the issue of gender,
Nature reached a degree of imperfection,
By putting out animals from its womb.
Elements continue to split and split
From a degree of imperfection to another,
Then there was man: a tiny film
Of sand and dust and other elements,
Further experiment brought about woman;
One of it’s kind, nature’s trick.
To preserve posterity was their sole duty”
Quite scientific…The Big Bang theory, the differenciation of matter, the natural selection of Lamarck, the Evolution theory of Charles Darwin..and so many others…I will love to read the rest…my good man
This is touching. With the slice-of-life sense of the mudane.
Thanks Mr Chimezie for reading.
Hmmn… May your muse always find you home…
@ d end of d day, I wonder and ponder “is this the law of kama or is it her destiny since God can not be held responsible?”
Very sad… My take: whether God created an imperfect world or a perfect one made imperfect by man, one thing I believe is that everything and every natural event has a purpose. In it, some are fortunate and some others are not as fortunate, at least in our notion, like the girl in the poem. Man is tasked to fit into those purposes to remedy his world… e.g if you are fortunate enough to have what it would take to give this said girl medical attention, then you are the one the world is waiting for to correct it… Nice of you drawing us into this convergence of sympathisers. I wish I could do more.
(Considering the mood here, there is something about mr CJN’s first comment that tempted me to laugh. Lol)
I Love this, Francis .
I saw her, naked, bare with nothing to hide,
With nothing to protect herself from the world
Save her madness, the illness of her mind
I found these to be The most Powerful lines. Absolutely paradoxical and intensely metaphorical. Her madness is also her Saviour. So maybe Universe and her waggling tongue Actually preserves humanity in some weird, Awkward manner as she carries out onerous task of universal coordination [or un-coordination]. I can bet, on a pig’s eye, that my friend never envisioned this poem this way.
Nice work, fellow. This has your Trademark all over it.
I have always enjoyed your analyses..I enjoy this too. As for the bet, a poet should not have to explain his poem. He smiles.
I Love this, Francis .