BEING A WOMAN AND MORE (A REVIEW: By Som Ogboh)

Ben Johnson, the writer of the Elizabethan era, sees poetry and pictures as arts of like nature. Reading through the poems in this book, I see different pictures of the author in her different stages of life. 

First, as a dejected widow, a lonely and helpless woman who is merely existing rather than living, a single mother battling with parenting, and then an accomplished writer.

William Wordsworth, the poet of the Romantic England, says that poetry is the imaginative expression of strong feelings, usually rhythmic, the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings recollected in tranquillity. Edwin Arlington Robinson, an American poet notable for his lyrical and narrative poetry, adds that poetry is the language that tells us, through a more or less emotional reaction, something that cannot be said. 

The poems in this collection, especially in part one, prove the veracity of Wordsworth and Robinson's assertion. Lines 24-32 of Brokenness read:

       "When despair 

       holds sway my heart,

       I pant for words

       with tear-sodden eyes,

       but the weight of my grief

       seizes my voice

      torn in patches,

      I fumble in vain

     to speak"

 

The emotional reaction to sorrow and solitude is the imaginative creation of the poems contained in this volume. This also credits what Nikola Tesla said, that being alone is the secret of invention, and ideas are born when one is alone.

It is said that life is the greatest gift, and thus, one must appreciate being alive. Thomas Hardy, the English poet and novelist who is known as the bridge between the Victorian and Twentieth century England because his novels are strictly Victorian, and his poems belong to the Twentieth century says that poetry is the emotion put in pleasure and measure; the motion must come by nature but the measure can be acquired by art. The poems in part two, with the sub-theme: Celebrating Life, portray Hardy's stance.

Though the author sourced the name Being a Woman and More from the third part of the book, the book is not all about being a woman; it is a collection of lots. First, it is a memoir, then it comes as a charge _ an instruction to keep sailing in the voyage of life even when the elements appear unfriendly; even when there is a reversal of fortune, or twist of fate, one must not lose hope. This reminds me of the words of Martin Luther King on marble: "We must accept finite disappointment, but we must not lose infinite hope". Hope, with its theme of optimism, affirms this. 

Preceding the poems in each part with an introductory note is akin to letting one perceive the aroma of the meal one is about to have. This style is plausible.

Being a Woman and More  is therefore recommended for young 
people, for women, for writers, in fact, for all, because the message of perseverance rings throughout the pages of the collection. 

A REVIEW: By Som Ogboh

Being A Woman & More

Going through grief

Trauma is an inevitable part of life. Each new day presents its challenges, distress, and struggles. How we embrace and navigate these experiences determines their impact on our lives. We can choose to be victors or victims. We can allow circumstances to define us, or we defy them and pursue our goals.

I have walked through storms and faced moments that knocked me down and left me helpless. Yet, even when I was down, I refused to stay there. I rose and moved forward with God by my side towards victory.

Five years into my marriage, my husband passed away. My world, once filled with light, and laughter suddenly plunged into darkness and sorrow. 

The weight of that loss was suffocating, and the temptation to quit life loomed large. But my two young children became my lifeline; their presence kept me afloat. It took years for me to emerge from that dark shroud and truly live, rather than merely exist.

Widowhood is daunting. When everyone departs, the loneliness that hits, and days filled with unbearable quietness, lingering grief, and pain, feel insurmountable. The fear of facing life, the challenges, and the responsibilities of parenting the children alone are overwhelming.

During this challenging time, I felt blessed to have my family and my husband’s family form a protective shield around me. My mother never left my side. For months, I slept in her room with my children. I could only sleep when I saw her opening her prayer book at night. She was a deeply prayerful woman who never missed midnight prayers, and her devotion was a calming balm to my soul. My grandmother, a prayer warrior also, strengthened me with her prayers and encouraging words.

During the burial, my father-in-law hovered nearby, offering care and support. My mother-in-law, though devastated by the loss of her firstborn, ensured I was okay. She took care of my mother and me throughout that painful time we spent in the village for the burial. My husband’s siblings were wonderful and supportive, throughout.

My father-in-law often invited us to spend Christmas with them in the village, sending transport money when I accepted. My mother-in-law would say, “Ngozi, don’t buy anything when coming; I’ve already bought everything you and the children need. Just come home.” Visiting them was always a pleasure, I could count on Mama’s warm welcome and the special soup she would make for me. And, my father-in-law would ensure they deliver fresh palm wine every morning for me.

I had a caring mother-in-law, who periodically sent me money from her pension, always checking in on our well-being, and a father-in-law who ensured I was comfortable. Their love and support lessened the pain.

However, over time, that protective shield disintegrated. First, my mother, who had helped care for my children while I navigated life’s demands, joined the angels in heaven. Her loss was devastating, and my children felt it deeply. When their father died, they were too young to grasp the gravity of the situation, but my mother’s death left a void they struggled with for a long time. They missed visiting Mama’s room for snacks after school.

Next came another heart-wrenching blow: my mother-in-law succumbed to cancer after a long battle. Her absence felt monumental. She had been a steadfast presence, and supportive, ensuring my eldest son comfortably finished his secondary education in the village. 

Soon after, my father-in-law passed away. Years later, my father, who has always supported me emotionally and financially, joined the League of Ancestors. 

With the elders gone, I assumed the role of an elder overnight, shouldering enormous responsibilities with unwavering resolve. When life hands you the baton, you take it and continue the race.

Loneliness 

My sun went behind the clouds,

Plunging me into an abyss of pain.

A dreary life to live. 

Where two walked

I trod alone in trepidation.

Walking the twisting road of life,

With garlands of sorrow.

The emptiness throbbed

My heart wailed with pain.

Waves of grief, 

Curls of gloom,

laced my days.

And loneliness

Enveloped my world.

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The Street Tears By Davy Fidel (Book Review)

The Street Tears is a poetry book with forty poignant poems that explore the theme of suffering, pains, disappointment, death and especially the hard life on the street. The poems are codifications of anguish, tears and hopelessness.

The author, Davy Fidel, weaved a tapestry of melancholy with creative words that pull at one’s heartstrings. He used every poetic artillery to capture and hold the reader's interest to the end. The author wrote the poems around emotions that string pain in the heart and events that sprout tears in the eyes. The second poem in the book, I WEPT “When I read my pages, I wept. It encryption … Cuneiform! Crest in the heart Like the devil in the cathedral” I will say the poem set the mood of the book because when I read the poems, I wept at the graphic narration of the sufferings and pains that echo on every page of the book. The insecurity, unknown gunmen, and kidnappings that ravaged the country. Deaths that leave gaping holes in the heart, the killings going on unchecked, injustice and miseries that mark our daily lives. “Misery is a painted art Agony is a pillow the head rest on” The author laments in one of his poems, ROSES IN PLAGUE In the poem, RAT WORLD, the author tells of the rat race of living life in the street. “The street is a rat world Wired with dreams trimmed And fried with hopelessness With unending potholes lives” This poem reiterates another poem in the book, POTHOLES, where the author likens his life to potholes, “My life is potholes Galloping every second Every minute with bruises Every hour of tormenting Like the flea in a hot pan” The poetry book is divided into five parts of ten poems each. In the last part of the book, the author asks, WHAT DOES TOMORROW HOLD? It is a poem that buttresses the crumbling world we live in. “When I look at the pieces around me I ask myself with a shattered voice What does tomorrow hold?” But, according to the author, “Tomorrow standing battered Our tears flooding us Our words crushing us Our lives procreating pain” The poems in this part paint a picture of hopelessness, where the future of the country and its people are tattering on wobbling legs of uncertainty. This part also talks about GARBAGE LIFE, how we live a LIFELESS LIFE, the way LIFE IS STOLEN from us, how we BEG TO HAVE TOMORROW, the way we live our lives THIS EVERYDAY, and what our TODAY looks like. The poems in the book are indeed words on marble. They tell the stories of yesterday and of today for tomorrow. A history recorded in poetic verses for the next generation.

https://www.amazon.com/STREET-TEARS-Davy-Fidel/dp/9789703112?ref_=ast_author_mpb

Review by Dr Ngozi Ebubedike Ladyzizi Bookworld.

ODE TO NGOZI: An African Academic Triumph.

In the heart of Africa's vibrant beat,

Stands a woman, Ngozi Ebubedike, so sweet.

In the halls of knowledge, she took her seat,

Her journey's tale is no small feat.

A day of joy, a day of pride,

Her accomplishments, she cannot hide.

Doctor of Philosophy, her stride,

An honor, a title, worldwide.

From the African American University's abode,

In Porto-Novo, where wisdom flowed.

To Nigeria's Enterprise Institute, bestowed,

Her knowledge, like a river, overflowed.

Inducted as a fellow, a recognition grand,

In technology and management, she stands.

Her influence stretches like a band,

Across the Nigerian and Benin land.

Congratulations, Ngozi, on your day,

Your journey's worth, hard to weigh.

More celebrations are on their way,

For your spirit, no challenge can sway.

Remember in the realm of knowledge, you are a guard.

By Dr. Dream.

ODE TO AN AUTHOR NGOZI EBUBEDIKE... by Dr. Dream

Ode to Ngozi Ebubedike, the Wordsmith Extraordinaire

Oh, Ngozi Ebubedike, a creator of poetic ecstasy,

With the stroke of your pen, you dance with the divine.

Your words ignite worlds, your verses set souls free,

Dear author, your brilliance forever shall shine.

In each chapter you weave, a new tale is born,

Characters spring to life, their stories come alive,

With lyrical grace, you unveil worlds torn,

Guiding us through emotions, both tender and thrive.

Your prose, like a symphony, resonates in our minds,

Melodies of truth, wrapped in the garments of art.

Through your stories, wisdom and beauty bind,

As we immerse ourselves in the depths of your heart.

With every word you write, your power unfolds,

Painting pictures with phrases, bringing dreams to light.

Your pen, a magic wand, transforming the old,

Oh, Ngozi Ebubedike, a champion of the write!

What worlds we have explored, thanks to your quill,

From distant lands to mystical realms unknown.

You invite us into your tales, hearts trembling, hearts still,

Taking us on journeys that are uniquely our own.

Your voice, like a whisper, echoes through the pages,

Whispering truths that leave us forever changed.

In your words, we find solace, like ancient sages,

A sanctuary of knowledge, beautifully arranged.

Ngozi Ebubedike, your words are a gift,

A symphony of emotions, a window to the soul.

Through your stories, our spirits you uplift,

In each word and verse, you make us whole.

So, dear author, we raise our pens in tribute,

To a literary genius, bringing light to our days.

Your words, like ink, forever cherished, absolute,

Ngozi Ebubedike, your legacy forever stays.

By Dr. Dream... literature review...

REMEMBER (Poetry) By Dr. Dream

In the land of ancient wisdom,

Where the sun's kisses embrace,

Rises the spirit within you,

A descendant of a sacred place.

Remember, O child of Alkebulan,

That your roots run deep and strong,

Inheritors of a heritage,

That sings a timeless song.

From the Nile's gentle caress,

To the rolling plains of Serengeti,

Your soul is etched with stories,

Of a rich history.

Remember, O child of Africa,

The drumbeat of your ancestors,

Echoes in your very being,

Every step, a dance of kinship and solidarity.

Beneath the canopy of ebony skin,

Lies the resilience of a thousand tribes,

Woven together like a tapestry,

United in the heartbeat of their vibes.

Remember, O child of the motherland,

In your veins, flows the spirit of kings,

Courageous warriors and wise queens,

Whose legacy in your soul sings.

With the strength of the lion,

And the grace of the gazelle,

You carry the essence of Africa,

With a heritage no words can quell.

Remember, O child of Alkebulan,

In your diversity lies your strength,

For within its borders reside,

Countless languages, cultures, and faiths.

So, let your pride be a beacon,

Guiding you through life's warbles,

Embracing the beauty of your heritage,

As it shines through like a thousand marbles.

Remember, O child of Africa,

You are a story waiting to be told,

Your voice, a symphony of resilience,

A testament to the spirit of old.

Embrace your motherland's embrace,

With love, honor, and dignity,

For you, dear African, are a treasure,

A symbol of eternal unity.

Remember, O child of Alkebulan,

In your journey, you are never alone,

Connected to a tapestry of souls,

Whose spirit in you has always shone.

By Dr. Dream...Literature review...