Sentinel Literary Quarterly Poetry Competition. | Closing date: Midnight 20th Sept, 2011. | Judge: Todd Swift | Prizes: £150 (1st), £75 (2nd), £50 (3rd), £10 x 3 (High Commendation) + first publication in Sentinel Champions. | Fees: £3 (1), £12 (5). Enter online now http://www.sentinelquarterly.com/poetry-competition-oct-2011/

Sentinel Literary Quarterly Poetry Competition. | Closing date: Midnight 20th Sept, 2011. | Judge: Todd Swift | Prizes: £150 (1st), £75 (2nd), £50 (3rd), £10 x 3 (High Commendation) + first publication in Sentinel Champions. | Fees: £3 (1), £12 (5). Enter online now http://www.sentinelquarterly.com/poetry-competition-oct-2011/

Sentinel Annual Poetry Competition 2011, judge - Roger Elkin

Dear Oguduasaa Sons & Daughters :
 
This is to invite you to participate in the tele-conference of Oguduasaa Progressive Union, NA(OPU) scheduled to hold on Saturday October 31, 2009. The meeting commences at 8:00PM CST.
The Conference Phone Number is 712-432-1601. Code : 561722, Press: #
 
Please let us be punctual.
 
 
The proposed Agenda will include :
 
1. Roll Call
2. Review of Proposed Constitution
3. Membership Drive
4. Discussion on Election of Officers 
5. Matters arising.
6. Adjournment.
 
Members are encouraged to invite all sons and daughters of Oguduasaa residing in North America, Europe and Nigeria . Our participation and contribution in this meeting is crucial and highly solicited.
 
Respectly Yours,
 
Obiukwu Tony Onyeabor
 
Transitional Assistant Secretary
Oguduasaa Progressive Union, NA.

OBITUARY ANNOUNCEMENT

We have just been informed of the sudden death of the mother of one of our illustrious sons. Rev. Fr. Ukachukwu S. Onyeabor at home in Oguduasaa Isuikwuato.

Our brother has just recently returned from home and in these tough times, you all know what that means. We are, therefore, calling on every one of us to rally round our brother and Priest to enable him travel home to bury his mother.

Please no amount is too small and none too big as we come together to show our brother that we are Oguduasaa and we do not hide behind the palm tree when issues of importance come up. This is the very reason for O.P.U -N.A. Biko nu Umunnem, ka anyi nyukotanu mamiri onu ka ogboo uwhuwhu. Our brother needs us now.

For easy coordination, please send your worthy contributions to one of the following persons:

Larry O. Ovuh
15411 Doveheart lane
Bowie MD 20721

Atty. Victor C. Victor
10039 Bissonet # 106
Houston TX 77036

Obiukwu Onyeabor
1126 Middlesex St. # 7
Lowell MA 01851

We thank you for your prompt response to this matter. We are aware of how tough the times are for everyone but it is at such times as this that the mettle of what makes us Ndi Oguduasaa comes to the fore.

God bless you as you give from your heart.

Obiukwu Onyeabor
Transitional Assistant Secretary,
Oguduasaa Progressive Union, NA

To send your condolences, please call our brother,
Rev. Fr. Ukachukwu Onyeabor on: 1-520 303 2060

Isuikwuato II

This village complains to the hills,
in my earth his umbilical cord manures
a coconut tree, but he has abandoned me.
Through the valleys her voice echoes,
bring home your bride, but keep your mother
from the stench of a rubbish skip.

This village complains to the hills,
my son's laughter fades from my mind.
He has neither tilled the land nor joined
his age-mates to weed the village square.
If a man sells his broom to pay for the journey
to a wrestling match in a distant village, upon
his return, will filth not chase him away?

This village complains to the hills,
the man that sits too long in the toilet, he will
see a spirit. If a man runs away from the filth
in his home. How much longer must I wait
for him to come restore my singing voice?
If I should tell her how long my bags have been packed,
she may not believe me, for nobody counts as wealth
the chicken that doesn't return to the coop at dusk.

My village complains to the hills,
Abaina music rises, but I don't see my son dancing.
Oha soup aroma rises, but I don't see my son eating.
Whatever song they sing to him, whatever they have fed him
it will wear off! It will wear off! He will come home someday.
Yes. I must come home. It's only the mad that burns the roof
of his house and lives in hope that when it rains
the neighbours will say without ridicule, come into ours,
that you may not catch cold and die.

My village must come and talk with me in my dreams
to enjoy again the innocence of my childhood, and sit
by the fire of my early manhood dreams burning as hot
today as they always have in the vault of my heart.

My village calls out my name through the hills
and I must go to embrace her warmth and peace,
This is where I wish to be when I grow old.
Shed no more tears O land of my fathers
for even now I am getting ready to dance
on the hot sands of Nkwonta.
Prepare the drums.

Isuikwuato

This village is mine
Where in the thick earth
The trailing cord
From my navel was interred.
This village is mine, and
I wish to build a house
Between the hills,
That I may be awakened in the mornings
By the rays of the sun
Split by irokos and palms.
Kom, kom, kom, kom:
The town crier's gong
I hear it even in my dreams.
O blessed memory live;
Night fire and roasting yams,
Moonlighting and moonlight tales,
Beast songs and hunting games
And the palms? O the wine -
Where is my tapper?
Let me sip nature's brew
Even as I sit watching
Men and women
With hoes and with machetes
Marching to their farms.
This village is mine
Where like an uncaged bird
I can sing in the sunshine
Without fear or pain.

- by Nnorom Azuonye