ART IN ALL ITS FORMS

(To Mwalimu George Ngwane and the rest of us who were at the AFRICAPHONIE workshop on Art and Culture Journalism held at the Hotel Residence Carlos in Buea-Cameroon from the 21st to the 23rd of March 2011. It was three golden days never to be forgotten.)

By Tikum Mbah Azonga

This is art, alright
But art with a difference
Just look at the symmetric contours
The concentric and bubbled sounds
The tempered comic relief
The jaded strobe lights
The indented background
It`s not oil on canvass
But you can see the subdued frescoes
Like those of the Sistine Chapel
Call them Velasquez` or Michael Angelo`s if you like
Consider the smoked silver filaments
It`s all picturesque and enameled
It may not be Gothic or baroque
But it`s deep and profound and scintillating
Just watch sky-blue and pacific love birds as they neck
Like the peace plant.

See how their golden vertical and horizontal lines blend
Oh! Don`t they march and merge and fuse and melt?
They thaw out and liquefy into one, single liquid
A slimy and viscous fluid which
Claims its own place in the sun
For how can it miss out on this second Berlin?
Forget about time, distance, speed and velocity
We are talking about architecture
So let`s all together
Gather it all up and hand it to humanity
It belongs to mankind.

Let`s return it to Mother Nature as we received it
Soft
Sleek
Sublime
Innocuous
Majestic
Fresh
New
Pure
Unadulterated
Undefiled
Immaculate
Virgin
Intact.

That`s why here and now, today
As we sit and deliberate on Carlos` throne
We know that South Africa, Ghana and Cameroon are one
United in intention and purpose
It`s several origins, one destination
Several voices, one meaning
Several visions, one object
Several tongues, one expression
Several inspirations, one art
One light
One energy
One source
One soul
One God
The infinite
Nothingness
Zero
Dissipation
Regeneration
Birth
Rebirth.

Copyright 2011

ALONE WITH THE SAME HOUSE THAT JACK BUILT

By Tikum Mbah Azonga

(Reminiscences of an old nursery school rime that left a lasting impression on me).


I saw the house that Jack built
I saw it with my own eyes
But I found no rat in it
However, I found scattered grains of corn
Strewn all over the floor
As if the rats had just visited
Apart from that odd find
Nothing else lay in the house that Jack built
So I wondered
Should I trek all the way to Nottingham
To see what legacy Lord Byron left
Or should I contend myself with
The leftovers of the sour malt
And the loose white hairs from the beleaguered cat`s body
The footman said he preserved?
And why should I believe him anyway?
I didn`t see the dog, nor the man, nor the priest nor the maiden
But as I came away disappointed
I heard ringing in my poor ears
Children`s deafening voices singing
This is the house that Jack built.

Copyright 2010

WHERE SINGERS CONVERGE

By Tikum Mbah Azonga

Ours is not a House of Exile
Not another one!
As if we didn`t have enough of them already
We also have our artists, authors and top class labels
We are all stars in our own right
We sing wherever we pitch our camps
That`s why we are also freedom fighters.


Copyright 2010

THE MISSING LINK

By Tikum Mbah Azonga

It`s no surprise ending
We all expected it
Call it cause and effect if you like
Only tell us where in all of this
Space, time, style and suspense
Can overthrow tragedy, theme, symbol and tone.


Copyright 2010

A CHOICE POEM

By Tikum Mbah Azonga

The next poem is yours
Even if you have cracked hands
But if you use a newspaper
Then blot out the word, "dog".

Copyright 2010

THE SCULPTOR FROM NGWO

By Tikum Mbah Azonga

Francis is certainly not a praying mantis
He`s a modern day sculptor
He sculpts minds, young ones
But he`s not from Lewoh
So, don`t get him wrong
And provoke the rage of the Fon of Ngwo.

Copyright 2010

THE GOOD FIGHT

By Tikum Mbah Azonga

(For the Revelation Theatre, Yaounde)

I saw the star-spangled sky
This Monday night here at Chapelle Obili
Burst open with its heart of gold held high
And all the angels one by one chanting the homily

In this life where a year can be a second
I saw mum lift her wings
And flapping them majestically like a frond
She flew towards Jesus with no strings.

Unknown to her perhaps, where she now resides
Her children's family of a Revelation
Right in her parlour reveal her motherly strides
And bless her for that life without extinction.

Copyright 2010

_____________________________________________________

This poem can be found in the collection entitled TOMATOES FOR FOUR, published by Fambata Publishers, Bamenda in 2009 with a grant made available by the Cameroonian Ministry of Culture. Author: Tikum Mbah Azonga

THE VERSE AS A COMPANION

(For Weriwoh)

By Tikum Mbah Azonga

Poetry is a nice thing for you
It may not be food or drink
But certainly it's substance
For every standard bearer
Whether in Washington or at the Vatican
A litre of poetry a day
Will serve as needed tonic
Elixir, panacea.

If you want your due
In order to keep away from the brink
Then dig in your heels and bolster your stance
It's better if you're an insurer
Because insurance is a sure water can
For the depressed, it's the saving ray
For the ultra modern, it's the ultrasonic
For the Senior Citizen,it's the sovereign overseer.

copyright 2009