Eneh Akpan Writes: Christ

Showing posts with label Christ. Show all posts

Saturday, December 20, 2014

We Call It Christmas

We call it Christmas,

Cause only love can love this much.

The whole world is just the two of us,

So let there be love as there’s Christmas.

And I know this much is true,

There is no me without a you.

May I be your fantasy for one minute?

Stand up on my shoulders preview a universe rid of limits.

Come, I can show you where love came down;

Where you can walk on water like on solid ground.

Love has narrated an amazing story

Of compassion’s throes and you are in it.

If you’ll take my hand we’ll erase the night

When two hearts touch the skies and the clouds ignite.

If you’re lost ‘tis the season to be found,

So be bold to hope for the hour is now.

Reach out weak hands in courage and exhale.

Love’s behind you step out, make this your day.

Akpan

Friday, December 27, 2013

Guest Blog: Christmas Gifting by Christine Cassello

Courtesy: Wikipedia

At last, a piece of poetry with a focus on the Christ of Christmas.

Christine Cassello’s poem reminds us why we celebrate. We need to celebrate the Christ-He is God's greatest gift to the world.

Shepherds wondered the reason why

Angelic beings lit up the sky.

One told them of a newborn boy,

Who would bring all people joy.

They received specific detail,

So they would know the little male.

The stars had never shown as bright,

As they did that Christmas night.

One star shown with great precision.

Magi understood that vision.

Across the desert, these men came,

Bringing gifts to show their acclaim.

We give gifts to one another,

Friend and neighbor, sister, brother.

What you do for the least of these,

You do for me,. Jesus sees.

So give your gifts in Jesus' name.

Not for glory, nor for fame.

Author's Bio

I turned 67 years old on February 14. I've been single and childless all of my life but have "mothered" many pets. Having grown up as a Christian, I did not have a difficult life and lived with my parents until they died. Now, I am working on my childhood passion and hope to make a reputation for myself as a children's book author.

I have an Ebook out, THE HUNTER AND THE DEER, original fairy tale and story poems for children and adults. My first publication was a short story in Knowonder Magazine in 2000 and a fairy tale poem in Bumples (online only).

Friday, December 14, 2012

A Psycho Christmas Carol

Well, did I say I was going to try my hands on horror-themed Christmas poetry or not? This is the first of my Thirteen Days of Christmas (13 being the evil number). It looks through the eyes of a psychotic killer who sees himself as one of Herod's soldiers who were sent on the killing spree during the search for Christ. There are 12 more dark verses for Christmas. Stay close to me and not one of us will be lost in this journey through the darkest night of the season.

The coldness stung; the night was dreary.

The wind played songs; the skies showed nary

A cosmic stud; moonlight was tardy.

From Rachel's womb; the tide flowed steady.

Rip the wombs wide open, spare no swords;

Flood the streets of 'Salem with a curse.

Search the sewers, wash your feet in blood.

If any mother resists thee, put her to the sword.

Herod the Terrible has spoken

Get The City smokin' n tokin'

To the slaughter of the Only Begotten

Herod will be lord or nothin'

The coldness stung; the night was dreary.

The wind played songs; the skies showed nary

A cosmic stud; moonlight was tardy.

From Rachel's womb; the tide flowed steady.

This ain't no Sesame Street I'm playin',

I came to dig for all that's breathing.

If he's two, a fetus or still toddling

I'll slit his throat till warm blood starts gurgling.

Hang 'em with their umbilical cords;

Bash 'em against the rocks.

Write their dust-to-dust before they're born

Wet your sword with baby blood.

The coldness stung; the night was dreary.

The wind played songs; the skies showed nary

A cosmic stud; moonlight was tardy.

From Rachel's womb; the tide flowed steady.

I'll do them one at a time, gangland style.

Two to the head and watch them die

Slow while infant blood flows half a mile.

I hear mothers curse but I'll let it slide.

I got an arsenal of dynamites

To initialize strange delights.

I'll free 'em from their plights,

Kill 'em off when they're in my sights.

The coldness stung; the night was dreary.

The wind played songs; the skies showed nary

A cosmic stud; moonlight was tardy.

From Rachel's womb; the tide flowed steady.

Akpan

Thursday, December 13, 2012

Why Horror Sells at Christmas

Why do people create horror-themed works for Christmas?

Well, do you think they have a choice? 'Tis the season to be gory. Let the season come upon a midnight scream!

Horror-themed Christmas movies (art, books and poetry) reveal our dark side. They tell us there is a reason to celebrate and look beyond all the terrors and waking nightmares that taunt and haunt us. And people really do find it intriguing to be able to sit back on their sofa during the holidays, grab a bowlful of popcorn in their hands and munch away while watching a really good shock/suspense Christmas movie.

Photo: audio-history.blogspot.com

I'm not trying to make fun of a noble event or blaspheme a holy cause or anything of the sort. But the birth of the Christ was horror-themed. Somebody did try to murder him, if my knowledge of the Bible is not all that rusty, when he was born. A king, I believe it was. And you do remember how that chapter of the Holy Book ends, do you not? The Herod eventually executes every child from age two and beneath thereby, setting himself up as the most infamous infanticide in history.

Besides, as we celebrate, we ought to be made to recall not everybody enjoys the same privileges like us. There's somebody someplace going to get robbed naked on Christmas day; a child on life-support might not make it through the season; life will never be the same (for worse than for better) for some folks after this Christmas. You think I'm sick for mentioning stuff as troubling as these are during the season? Well, take a look around you. Is life more promising during the yuletide than it was in say, November? I'll bet my shirt, it's not.

The war in Syria, the fighting in Afghanistan even in Nigeria (though, of recent things have looked up at least on one occasion, when the military trapped a few members of the bomb-chucking maniacs and annihilated them) the terrorist group, Boko Haram is still very much around and in business.

I don't quite understand the mechanism of some people's minds, but it seems people are more terrified by horror-themed movies than they are of real life-deleting scenarios. Folks watch a horror flick, look away in disgust and exclaim, "What sort of sick individual could have imagined such a thing?" Now here comes the news guy with gruesome images of war and homicide-man actually, killing his fellow man-and this same folks sit up and yell for more live video shooting of the whole drama. If you told them that's gross. They'll probably reply, "Why. That's the NEWS. It really happened!" And you wonder if that ought to make it less or more horrifying.

Every Christmas (since 2010), I write Christmas-themed poetry. This year, I'm taking a crack at horror-themed Christmas poems. 13 dark verses which I have named Thirteen Days of Christmas. It's definitely a new experience for me and I do hope to learn a few new tricks in the art of shutting people's system down, even though temporarily, through the art of fear. It's always a lovely thing to find new reasons to celebrate. Gore came down at Christmas! (Sorry, I mean, love.)

There ought to be a chicken in every pot but you and I can name a few cases where there was no pot and the chicken caught a cold and died a few days before Christmas. Try to get yourself a very merry Christmas and keep in mind that it's better to visit the house of mourning than a place of fun especially, fun for the sake of it. That's probably, why horror sells at Christmas.

Have a horrific Christmas!

Akpan