These days sex is scarce
For means of sustenance
Is held captive by Covid 19
We device a new normal
Of talking sex and having it
Through the painting brush
And turpentine of distancing
A canvassing expression
Bringing tore noise as pedal
Brake. I apply an apt way to come
Minimizing my data as a liberal coin
New remorse way of creating sex scene
Without arousing the passion drive of mating
Ends in Xeroxing feet and bald box of regrets
(c) 2020 Martin Ijir
Having sex
What becomes man when art is lost!
The corncob has a moralist sanctuary pumped in their ventricles as a seeping moon appearing on the dimensionless sky. The acute remarks of looking for the veins which the corn holds and the hands they grip firmly on. This sourceless medium can be soughted out when the opaque sky is whipped by the mouth of jasmine-words, a great penetration is attained on vulva of the eternal abode. What becomes man when art is lost! The whereabouts of supply that nourished the soul, and paints the spirit of depressed heart to surge self in laughter. Beyond the sill of window pane I have stand waiting for the sunless rays of my soul to have a cornice of successive praises to my maker. Each time this art is done I found the art that makes me a man. The parody of life, gets exhaustive in me and I seek always the renewal of this painting as a breathe in me. There are dozen of thoughts jutting in me, and ordering the enduring contentment of sound of the night and briskly of a new day. I sighed often when the curtains of a new day unveils the opaque sky to visit my roof first, I can see the sun in the art of becoming a living everyday. Men cannot do without art and art without men weeping songs became peculiar everyday.
(c) Martin Ijir 2020
“HAPPY SATURDAY WITH AN EMINENT POET” A WEEKLY INTERVIEW ORGANIZED BY POEmarium by Dr. Nk Sharma and WRITERS’ MIRROR, ASSAM INDIA
Good Morning and Welcome dear adorable readers and members to “HAPPY SATURDAY WITH AN EMINENT POET” a weekly interview program jointly organized by POEmarium by Dr. Nk Sharma and WRITERS’ MIRROR, ASSAM, INDIA.
Today, we present an Interview with dear Martin Ijir, a poet of international repute/
Bipul Kalita:-Good Morning dear Sir. You are most welcome to our interview program.You are undoubtedly a popular poet. Our readers will be happy if you say a few words about yourself.
Martin Ijir:- I am the Second in family of six, from Nigeria. Read Economics (Education). I am a poet, a teacher, author, an activist, Editor, Humanist and a seeker of true meaning of the Light. Apart from writing I love playing games
Bipul Kalita:- What inspired you to be a poet? Who left an indelible impact on your notional-emotional outpourings?
Martin Ijir:- God inspired me, a visiting genie always tells me how to write. Although, personally as a being there are indelible notions life brings. All I do is to write them down obeying the first law of poetry as guided. I have never allowed my emotional notes to reel over my poetry instead I allow the emotional notes to conform with my genie. This conformity makes me understand the brimness in being a poet.
Bipul Kalita:- What is your conception of a poem?
Martin Ijir:- A poem is a concise, succinct and apt cadence of words in a simplistic way to reach an aesthetic perfection from ages to ages, craving for balance and harmony between universes.
Bipul Kalita:- Very nice concept, no doubt. Who are some of your biggest influences in your poetry?
Martin Ijir:- I read everyday because I am a seeker of the true essence of Christ, the one that will usher in New beginning. I can’t say I have the biggest influencer whose style of writing I followed but I have read works of the mighty minds: The Bible, Shakespeare, Flaubert, Nietzsche, Freud, Soyinka, Tagore, Kafka, Shelley, Pushkin etc. I read them at a very tender age.
Bipul Kalita:- What is the state of contemporary Facebook poetry worldwide ?
Martin Ijir:- Thanks to technology. Facebook poetry has dived into the bunker of fibre across nations, trimming cultural streaming and pigments, erasing age gaps. Facebook is a veritable tool for sharing, writing, getting read and being read, making contemporary poetry to be blossoming.
Bipul Kalita:-You are absolutely right. Hope, those critics who are demeaning Facebook poetry should realize how technology has provided an open platform for all creative minds to expose themselves on one hand, and their creations have reached their readers easily on the other.
Anyway, do you think you were meant to be a poet?
Martin Ijir:- Yes. I was born a poet, no one teaches me to write poetry. I started writing poetry at a very tender age. God destiny men, it is up to you to know thyself and embrace your calling. The breath given to my soul was inscribed in me to be a poet. Therefore, with utmost joy I am a born poet.
Bipul Kalita:-Great. As a poet, can you work anywhere or there is a fixed cell to work in?
Martin Ijir:- I work everywhere, write everywhere, as long I have my pad and if I don’t have a pad I write in my mind, stored them in an archive inside, later I transfer them into a metaphysical pad.
Bipul Kalita:-Superb. You have gone through the poetic works of globally reputed poets who are writing for different poetic groups belonging to different countries. How do you feel when sharing your views with them?
Martin Ijir:- Elated a wide distance that is cut short. Some are very profound, friendly, some dwindling, others have attained the brim of enlightenment. The brim of enlightenment is the savor offering of being a soul and being a heroic poet celebrated by your longing soul. That is why master poets are read, read and read again and again. I pray many understand the joy of being enlightened to be distinguished and reputed.
Bipul Kalita:-Very nice observation, dear Sir. Would you like to comment on the overall standard of poems of the Indian poets who are writing for Facebook groups?
Martin Ijir:- Overall standard of all poets is quite impressive. Especially poets from India, some are fiddling while others are great.
Bipul Kalita:- Please share one of your early / latest poems , preferably a shorter one .
Martin Ijir:- Here it is.
Taking a new bride
The hue in the sun glows its york green
The tainted red in the embryonic glean
Hides beneath a faithful bride
Only kings adore left prints on the shore
Quickly affections climaxes like mountain
Quickly affections strides as green
The leaves of silence turn so brown
Like hefty arms of a genomic giant
The queen bore wintry sadness
As the king left for garde-manger, insufficient tears
Life yellowish hue turns green
Breaking all love chains bonding us for years
(c) Martin Ijir 2020
Bipul Kalita:- Plato said,”At the touch of love, everyone becomes a poet.”
What do you say, Sir?
Martin Ijir:- Plato is right. When one is blurred by sentimental fallacy of love, pain makes him a poet, that’s an emotional notion to poetry but not innate or instinctive rays of knowing the realms in love. He ascends into an embryonic glean that buds words. Each step in love makes a makeshift of becoming a poet but not a born poet. Only a born poet touches love as love, as love on a sky, love in a soul, love sleeping on love-sheets as stars twinkling in between the abyss of emblazoned rays.
Bipul Kalita:- I appreciate your views, dear Sir, on love and on a born poet. Is your poetry subjective? To what extent does it mirror the lives of the underprivileged?
Martin Ijir:- The primary aim of my writing is to bring liberation, love, hope, faith to all without hate, prejudice or malicious pap to smear or favor any person. It holds truth as its firm post. Individual perspectives to my writing mirror the class you stratified self. I don’t believe in the word “underprivileged”; everyone is privileged, so is my poetry.
Bipul Kalita:- What should be the role of a poet against the backdrop of the present world situation ?
Martin Ijir:- To encourage, to light darkness that is glowing over us. To point and guide others with a lamp of love imbued in writing so that people will have hope of being here, and hope of thereafter. Rudiments of attaining eternity should be told clearing in a concise form.
Bipul Kalita:- What do you prefer, rhyme or blank verse ? Why?
Martin Ijir:- I don’t have a preference when it comes to my writing. My writings are in all forms because it is guided by my genie, my usual visitor tells the word, all I do is to obey and write. I never plan writing rhymed lines or blank verse. “What’s written cannot be undone” and what’s told must be written.
Bipul Kalita:- Ours is an age of experiment. How does this affect the field of poetry? Do you also experiment with your poetry?
Martin Ijir:- Yes I do, necessity and circumstances breed thinking; so this tavern needs to be exploited evenly but usually I am guided by my usual visitor.
Bipul Kalita:- What do you think about the relevancy of our Groups’ vision and mission for promoting Global Peace, Universal Love and Humanity ?
Martin Ijir:- You guys are doing a great job. I would love to thank Dr. N.K Sharma Sir for his innovative idea of bringing all sundry across the globe into one group, showing love to everyone encouraging emerging writers, making many buckling their pen. Also, I commend all team members for their teeming support in achieving this Herculean task. God bless you all.
Bipul Kalita:- You are a published poet. How many anthologies do you have to your credit so far?
Martin Ijir:- I have five anthologies, editor to three anthologies and many unpublished works. Four are poetic discourse, and one is a prose-poetry undergoing printing but thwarted due to Covid-19 lock down.
Bipul Kalita:- Great. Heartfelt congratulations too. How do you manage your profession and passion for poetry at the same time?
Martin Ijir:- Kudos to time, the mother of records, programming, utilization. My profession does not hinder my writing because I knew the importance, housed in a time. Thanks so much to time, it helps me a lot in managing my profession and poetry
Bipul Kalita:- What impresses you most about our groups and why ?
Martin Ijir:- It is constituted by well self humble personalities starting from its founder, admins and members ; team spirit makes goal-target easier.
Bipul Kalita:- Do you have any suggestions to offer to the fellow poets?
Martin Ijir:- Keep writing, keep reading and above all allow conformity with your soul.
Bipul Kalita:- Thanks a lot dear Sir for being with us this morning, sharing freely and frankly your precious views on poetry. I hope, we will meet again with new topics for discussion.
Book Review: Literal Appreciation of Elocuencia de Silencios by Francisco Munoz Soler
Appreciation of Elocuencia de Silencios
Francisco Munoz Soler delves into the drums of Eloquence of Silence with a magnanimity of words mowing the forage that held the echoes of words from fasting and feasting In them through silence. The book provides a tendency of focusing on meditations as one decipher the words that upshot from the art of silence. A therapeutic edifice of attaining enlightenment. It should be known that one must be eloquent enough in other to withstand this zephyring but warm atmospheric moisture released by the art of obeying command and writing, being provided and commended by the spirit of silence lying in a soul of an adept who becomes an initiate. He proves to be a learned adept in the field of silenceness, in this poetic discourse ” Elocuencia de Silencios”. He further broaden my Spanish quest as it opens the lines with famous lines of great thinkers and poets, like Rilke, Blake, Colinas, Szymborska etc.
The translanguagation makes one to become a rodent as it decipher the messages encased in the nut. Lines that implores my soul to master Spanish as my third working language quickly, which I am being self taught.
In order not to deviate from this appreciation of this great work written by the scenting poet Francisco, I would state categorically how the poet understands the words silence provides. In “MY SOUL HAS THE MOULD ” the lines ran:
MY SOUL HAS THE MOULD
of the horizon of its dawn
everything in me is created
in the intangible eternity
of its untouched presence in me
I grow in the absence of caresses
in the breath of the fertile transparency
of our unforgettable love.
One cannot rise above the softies of silence if there is non conformity with the waves, rising the tides in the eternity of beingness. The poet tells it as he encounters the creation innately before its physical manifestation. We that are of free spirit understand the mystery of “intangible eternity” or are trying to understand the brimness of this. I see there is no form of sentimental fallacies in this book, which most poets based their writing upon, through sublimation of material imagination. Rather, I saw the enclavement of an adept wearing the disk of an initiate through the eeries of silence. Making me recall my personal encounter. Using my words: and “I buoyed through the eeries of silence” as encountered. I fully understand the telepathic fibre released here. The poet tells the beingness created in silence.
Furthermore, in “AN IMPOSSIBLE DESIRE” he opens the harp that is held captive, when you struck the rock instead of talking to the rock, the repercussion against obeying the voice of silence is dead. Here, the poet obeys. The lines ran:
AN IMPOSSIBLE DESIRE
occupies my days
it forges a pain so sharp
that illuminates the dense night
in the hollow of my footsteps,
an impossible desire
surges with her absence,
it goes through me weaving
the silence of caresses.
An avid reader of the holy book will recall Number 27: 14 this marks the foundation, beginning and willingness of killing the egos in us. The Freudian tea that will make a savour offering to humanity and mother earth and the universe. The ability to overcome this self desire makes the poet a poet.
In ” I remember the young people of my adolescence” the poet ends the point and notions to racial discrimination and all form of humanstreaming experience globally on geometric progression. He opens and ends the lines with:
I REMEMBER THE YOUNG PEOPLE OF MY ADOLESCENCE
in their own times,
with the original colour of their hair,
.
.
.
with the turn of the page
far from all time,
I remember them as if in a dream.
Lastly, the book is segmented into five, having great themes and marvellous poems summing up “Elocuencia de Silencios” running in free verse as encountered. A story he opens at “Poets, at times” marvels me because it upholds the first law of poetry, making it easier to read through.
POETS, AT TIMES
because of their uncertainties
feel tempted to comprehend
the human condition,
they try to capture echos,
the eloquence of silence,
the radiation of kisses,
and the endless exchange of looks,
without the scientific knowledge
of going back to the origin of our souls.
One must reflect on the mirror of being here, and seek the vehicle which will board us into the abyss of our root. The origin lays the quintessentiality of a soul, our ability to forge back in a purer form makes us to gain eternal life or eternal strife, both of these eternity, none of our part dies. In a succinct and apt line I would say Soler understands how to tap to the songs of silence, diving into the stream of existence as a master, conversing with his visitor and ending his long suffering.
Thank you for this masterpiece.
With LOVE
Martin Ijir
© Martin Ijir 2020
When billionaires are made
When billionaires are made
Government erased the traces of their dealings
Those who become are kept into the bunker
And the white papers of their dealings
Is embalmed and erased by the glut of ashes
Those afar will start shouting fire, fire, fire
The billionaire rides in his tainted Benz smiling
Puffing cigatta just like the Colombian
When billionaires are made
The building holding the office’s paid the price
Watch a low-key billionaire will soon donate
In anonymous name to hide the carcass
For its repair, an enchanting clap from the power
That be… Watch don’t say I told you but I told you
I use to be a billionaire it is my confession
When the billionaire drives in with a smile
Their is a cockroaches bland with broken legs
He is looking for shenanigans to mend his legs
A lobbyist that earns his nuts professionally
They’re among us holding the algorithm of sanitizer
Low profiling themselves, and bribing through probe panel
Committee these men will find nothing as their findings
but these findings will sleep in the cupboard
The making of the billionaire is poised
By threat, respect and shameless favour
When billionaires are made
Government erased the traces of their dealings
(c) Martin Ijir 2020
Hunger massage
Dear lover, I am sorry for my late reply
Learn you’re leaving Wuhan and will be at Italy
Before coming back to Nigeria. I am so happy
I want you to know there is a curfew on the street
It is difficult to see a lizard, butterfly, and birds
But it is not difficult to see gecko, cockroach and crickets
I am so excited by the songs of wine they provide as
I self isolate… in lonliness and misery and hunger massage
My tavern is open as the street of Spain
Near, the door stood the rye of salvation
Nothing can stop my kisses and embrace
I read about a new belch that separates
And stop men from loving and hugging
Nothing can stop me from licking the scars
On your inciting lips lumping the door of my longings
Nothing can stop me from touching your linseed face
In them I see the longing soul that beauty and time obstruct
In them freedom reclaim and birds, butterfly and lizard I see
(c) Martin Ijir 2020
Fifty nine inches grave
Fifty nine years of baking a bread
fifty nine years of searching for bed
linking roof, sheathed with naked fire.
Poverty, banditry and corruption’s clip
fifty nine inches grave of bad leadership
and blind misaligned themselves as followership.
Yesterday, i was chased by ghost of feudalist
foolishly, i ran inebriatably to the door of an animalist
he drown me with axe onto the grave of fifty nine inches.
Life is hardwired by spokes of division
cursing plague of wild and mild depression
yeast of suffering in joy intoxicates than kunu zaki.
I wonder when fifty nine tides of flimsy lies
will be sieved, calmed and distilled into truthful progress
while pragmatic, social materials solidifies all to smiles.
(c) Martin Ijir 2019
Gimmick deceptions
Some few men sailed with Columbus nosetruth, pandemic, deception, enough is enough
This time an American covert dealings
aimed to discover coronary that will make
Their gourds to filled with euros, yens & mighty dollars
The pounds of the flesh used in the Wuhan laboratory
Is raw with climate change temperature, aiming to wipe
humanity’s love, peace and sorrow
a new genome that will wipe out Africa & third world countries
Mistakenly they forgot that tropics boils the sun
Our ebony skin is full of softies so is the softies of our ebony blood
Some few men sailed across the Wuhan wall
In icing igloo faced hoodwinked covid 19 was created
These same men possessed the cure
When their safe is filled up, cure will come
They hinder social life and shutdown economies
These few men have a bunker of raw stash, living in isolation
Giving termites their loaf of share, and human loaves of covid 19
They provide humanitarian service as charity
How could charity works when there is no pandemic?
How will donor give willingly when the have-nots are not in IDP’s camp?
Luckily enough, covid 19 is meant for the rich
Soon a cure will come, million of dollars already spreads
These same men will donate their resources in gimmick deception
To lure many into their eeries of silence
I am hiding in my room afraid to be victimized
Though weeping knocks at night, joy opens the door at day
When you see these men mauled them with fangs of laughter
(c) 2020 Martin Ijir
Seized tears
These blizzards wreak the songs of togetherness
through the night all sounds are unheard
but the songs of the razing fire thatch I felt
the noise of the striking axes passing through deathless
spirits, bumping flies that missed their path
I can hear the songs of agony,
render by their sleeping spirit
beclouding the lids of my eyes, my hands
shivers as a stroke of canvass spited on my heart,
an unbearable cloud passing its enchanting chasm
so much pain, seized tears paints the picture of my frame.
(c) 2020 Martin Ijir
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