Garden City and Other Poems is a collection of poems in celebration of Port-Harcourt at 100 (Port Harcourt centenary celebration.)
THE GARDEN CITY
In 1913, a great city was born
Out of the heart of the southern Nigeria- Rivers
State
Initially for the sole purpose of coal exportation
Gradually and ever so consistently, they
blossomed
In diverse directions; they sprouted
Waxing stronger; industrially and commercially
Exalting the nation; financially and culturally
Augmenting our revenue drastically
Impervious to economical deterioration
1,947,000 people in habitation, yet unity in
maximization
I sing of Port Harcourt, the garden city!
A wonderful place; intricately carved from
creation
Luxuriating in hospitality and production
Like a plantation in full bloom; they flourished
Like a woman in her prime, they boomed
Amidst the massive benefit of the oil- minerals
They throve in development of other resources
With fishes, great vegetation, oil and a tropical
monsoon climate
As their natural endowments
They stand tall in excellence
The Garden city; a centre of tourism
Playing host to magnificent seaports and airport
Enhancing sports and physical fitness with two
stadia
Boosting productivity with two standard
refineries;
Expanding the nation‟s horizons
In their un-daunting quest for knowledge
individuals
From their “state of the arts” primary, secondary
and tertiary institutions
From far and near, people stride in
To tap from the “Garden city” awesomeness
Fishers‟ a-fishing
Traders‟ a-trading
Oil drillers‟ a-drilling
Land tillers‟ a-tilling,
In “The Garden city” of Rivers State.
Charlene Chiamaka Chikezie
Despair
I looked up, there's no sky
I looked, there's no land
I listened, sweet melodies were sigh
My stomach sang one, a bizarre brand
My eyes strained, rays found no rest
Scourged by the lost sweat rivulets to the crest,
The soles that died on the thorn-studded tracks
Hoping at the end, sun could sleekly wax
But there's no sky, let alone the sun
I had my wide-bladed hoe, but no land
I began to withdraw cash without cheques
And breathed by launching financial wrecks
One day, trumpet sounded
My home changed; ceaseless pain abounded
Rivets, fleas, pasting and pungent odour
Became bosom friends I must on end endure
As a victim of gannet leaders who loot
And forget the seed, the future root.
Emmanuel Ejike Abraham.