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Uchechukwu Onyedikam Poetry |A popular poet of Africa

Uchechukwu Onyedikam

THE SACRAMENT

Studying the labour of my work past
like a counterfeit note — shall never
be in vain often connotes resilience.
For this is my land, here I stand
with a gun in my hand.

Time is not gracious hence I'm void of
the luxury of looking over my misdeed
but rather tapping myself on the shoulder
for my eyes to catch up with sight of what
sits in the dark, bidding for the light.

Starving and thus I traded my will…
Love is a paradox! I lost my way on
the road to Jericho where I stopped by
and touched the clouds, and stars 
jumped off the sky to make blues.

Despair swelling from my bones
as I watch the door of the Convent
slammed right in my face, for six
rainy night and one sunny day —
left me with the maker of my fate.

Karma have surrounded me with all
her energy, silently I became her prey
and a servile lover, groveling for needs
and willing to bestow all in her place —
I played Christ instead of hearing me cry! 

For I dread the loss of paradise and the
agony of the vexation of this spirit
haunting my soul, tarrying for the
absolute collapse of my existence —
to feed my bones and flesh to Its appetite

NON BELIEVER

The dark hour of the liberty bell —
a test-strike with a blunt force
cracked her brittle face.
With blood stained lips 
she spits on my grave.
Like a black cat I've gone out to haunt
the night, braver in my own skin, seeing
no evil, dreaming like a possessed witch
night by night, what a black thing!
Your love out of my mind yet your 
flames bites on my erection and 
breaks the wheels of my heart.
This broken creature you know is
always misunderstood for a believer,
a thousand times of the ups and downs
you've failed trying to rearrange
his mind, for you are not that kind
raised by fire and brimstone to ride
in his cart — her body opened, believing.
Treading on a believer's foot is a journey
and a destination mapped on her body
that allows you to trace your ground
and dig your own shallow grave.
I've retrieved the locks that they
dread I don't believe her… curves!
And the beauty of the place my
hands have played with there.
And we both know that I've rendered
self to awakening upon this mountain
where God of the golden magical wand
inhabits with all good and evil dispositions.

THE TONGUE WE NEVER LOST AT SEA

The civilization of a People lost…
in hell upon the arrival of a strange man
whose idol described our traditional
practices as the evil bedeviling us —
and the roadblock on our way to
his father's house of many mansions!

Our proverbs, story, folklores 
are too heavy to flow through 
a pen — and sustain its grasp
on blank papers relaying beauty
of ancient tongues passed down to
one generation to another — 
breeding a lifetime of vast richness
with its myth intact; strong, bold
This cultural teachings wears 

its name on the sleeves of our 
long-held old belief —
a mystery that rolls itself up in words 
and syllable that apprehends 
the magical sound of our language 
and the tribes that draws footpath
on our skin… to keep our truth
and heritage hidden away from the wild
Aboard the slave ship chanting our songs

unrelenting in the presence of agony —
a world STOLEN and sold to another world
for the ILL bargain of superiority — yet
our history never died on our lips!
You can trace the stars… and search
for the moon in our locks!

HIGHER-SELF


Thrown underfoot... pressure of
footfall from heavy steel boots
my heart laps on the edge
of kindliness

Sitting there absorbing different
scene from precious moments
lost in the latter time I fell off
of the reason to remain in
this shipwreck

My higher self has risen, broken free
from mortal consciousness of pity
and ego, of arrogance and lustful pride
of spite and hate, of jealousy and envy
of give and take, of here and there

The sleeves of the universe
unfolded clarity this morning that I now
recognize in the shadows — nurturing
in my soul the cherry that bloomed in
the dark: oh, behold the spirited soul!
could you body it? 


Biography —

Uchechukwu Onyedikam is a Nigerian poet whose work weaves Afrịkan spirituality and postcolonial resilience through innovative haiku, renga, and free-verse forms. His five haiku appear in two Amazon best-selling anthologies, Petals of Haiku and Tranquility: An Anthology, both archived in Japan’s Museum of Haiku Literature, with Petals of Haiku also preserved in the Risenji Temple. Eight of his works were screened at The Haiku Foundation’s HaikuFilm Festival, showcasing his global reach. Uchechukwu co-authored two renga chapbooks with Christina Chin, Pouring Light on the Hills and Clouds of Pink, the latter featured in Masticadores LatinosUSA’s Poetry Special and Bookshelf. His poem “Silent Whisper” earned the 2025 Everscribe Editors’ Choice Award, affirming his lyrical depth. A regular performer at Lime Square Poets (Cork, Ireland) via Zoom, Uchechukwu is pursuing the UK Global Talent Visa to enrich the UK’s literary scene with African-themed workshops. His work, published in Asahi Shimbun, Wales Haiku Journal, Impspired, Brittle Paper, and others, with a Pushcart Prize 2024 nomination and Confluence Haiku Fellowship candidacy, resonates with universal themes of loss and hope.

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