You’re so beautiful tonight,
Yes, in your white and bright light.
It’s good to see you again.
After many days of rain.
Up high in the sky you shine,
Unable to be just mine.
To you my heart remains mild
For you, I loved I as a child.
I have given you no rose
My love for you, one knows
Now, as you my eyes behold.
I wish you, my hands could hold.
You come and refuse to stay.
You go when you see the day.
Now I hope to see you soon,
As you go my dear full moon.
(C) Peter Akhere.
What will has a
Puppet in the hands of a puppeteer?
Or of what say
Is the clay in the hands of the potter?
Is at the mercy of the creator.
The blind knows not the way he should go.
No! Except he be told by one who sees.
Many though blind through arrogance or
Ignorance seek to go ways they know not.
They stumble and fall countless times yet,
Advance to doom unknown in false beliefs.
I have been lost once yet with the
Knowledge of my destination.
I have been blind once yet with the
Awareness of what surrounds me.
Thanks to God, my destination
Draws near and my sight is restored.
Though my destination
May be sure, I know not when I’ll get there.
Though my sight is restored,
Even now, it still has not been of my eyes.
There’s a hand which shows me,
The way I should go and what things I see not.
(C) Peter Akhere
When I was still a child
Often, I wondered why
Some men have riches piled.
But some of lack do die.
Why can’t all men be rich?
And let no man be poor?
It’s for the work of each,
Reward only comes for.
When I was still so young
Often, I noticed that
Some things were just called ‘wrong’
And often frowned at.
Why can’t they just be done
And just be seen as ‘Right’?
Actions beneath the Sun
With effects come to light.
When I was just a boy
Often, I simply thought
Some days are filled with Joy
But some, sorrows unsought.
Why can’t joy always reign?
And sorrows not exist?
With changes comes some pains,
And ‘bad’ with ‘good’ is mixed.
Now I am all grown up
And my wonders differ.
The humble, God lifts up.
But the proud do suffer.
Why is with ‘fall’ pride known?
And does the meek, grace crown?
Men reap what was sown.
And the way up is down.
(C) Peter Akhere.
Life I’ve seen is full of good, just as much as there’s evil.
It also is full of Light, just as much as there’s darkness.
Sometimes, things go so ugly as though it’s of the devil.
Such times, I often wonder with a heart in restlessness.
If only there were no wars, we would always live in peace.
With love and joy in the air, we would live in unity.
As friends in bond we would be, like couples in endless bliss.
As fights and strife will be not, a life of tranquillity.
If only there were no death, we would never have to die.
Forever we all would live, with loved ones in company.
Tears of mourning, we won’t cry, neither would we say goodbye.
Family and friends shall be, just so much and so many.
If only there were no wrongs, then we would always be right.
We would never make mistakes, nothing to be sorry for.
There would be no punishment, be it heavyweight or light.
Things well would always be done, and good news heard would be more.
If only there were no hate, we would always dwell in love.
If only there were no lies, we would always know the truth.
If only there were no lack, there would be less problems to solve.
If only things were different, perhaps our pains it would soothe
But in this do I find rest, all things in life have their place.
Unwanted as they may seem, they still try to find some use.
For perhaps if death was not, Life might be an endless race.
Where all men would run and run, with nothing to gain or lose.
(C) 2010. Peter Akhere.
Life is PEACE when we listen to the rhythms of of NATURE.
That even in the midst of a raging storm,
We still realise that it takes a heavy RAIN and a strong WIND
To wash away the accumulated filth that may have littered our life’s route.
Alone in the dark, he wanders.
Searching for the Light.
Awaiting the glimmer of that ray
That proceeds its arrival.
Lost within himself, he wonders,
What the missing piece might be.
Skilled in the art of puzzles,
But with square pegs for round holes.
A stitch in time saves nine.
And to every purpose, there is a time.
He must not delay,
Else, the fruit gets rotten.
Should he be too fast,
It is plucked unripe.
Still he awaits the Light,
To reveal what is hidden.
To show what must be done,
And even when to get it done.