The Thousandth Mile.

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It has been two years and some months since I launched this blog, and I vividly remember my first blogpost which was a limerick of some sort that goes like this:

consumed by pride, envy and scorn,

the feeble veil of my heart is torn,

one which no golden needle and silver thread can mend,

one which only the agape love from persons can tend,

salving all wounds from dusk till dawn.

Love (Adapted)

The poem very much typified my emotional state at the time and how I held all kinds of feelings bottled up, searching for meaning and answers in our nature. However, interest from a few persons piqued gradually and my world began to morph artistically. With the gradual growth of the blog, I have been able to find my channel of catharsis with some areas botched in shades of gray, and others smeared in resplendent hues. As such, many thanks to you all who have literally given me a thousand reasons to be grateful for the interest, love and support rendered towards the achievement of this milestone.

As always, it will remain a tremendous pleasure to keep putting smiles on your faces through my works as you have done so effortlessly on mine. Cheers to our next artistic adventure, and a thousand hugs and kisses to each and every one of you. Happy blogging.

Cheemnonso

A Letter to Humanity. (Free Verse)

Dear humanity,
I write this to ask you,
How did we drift so askew,
to the point where
the vain is inanely adored,
and the sane is insanely abhorred?

Why do the colours that make rainbows smile
and give the auroras her alluring style,
no longer ignite beauty sparks on faces,
but smear the tracks of individual races?

Why do we worship the elitists
at their altar of greed,
but ignore the sinister cysts,
sprouting on those in need?

Why do we still play the game called fame,
whilst our high-scores keep putting us to shame?

When did everyone suddenly become so fickle,
leaving us to trust only the Reaper’s thrusting sickle?

If you’re reading this, I need some answers,
I really do,
because the world slowly sinks into hate’s murky gutter,
and I need to know how to keep my head above water.

Regards,

Cheemnonso

Dany. (Sketch)

Page 3 of my sketchbook.

At long last, the totally absorbing series, Game of Thrones, drew its curtains after eight fantastic seasons albeit a somewhat drab series finale.

Nonetheless, here’s my sketchy tribute to Queen Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, The rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, Queen of Dragonstone, Queen of Meereen, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons,regent of the realm.

.

Cheemnonso

The Genesis. (Villanelle)

Here comes the dawn of a new year,

and the heavens echo, my friend:

withering flowers will bloom, sad hearts will cheer.

.

and we shall not cower in fear,

in times when ripples need be amend,

because here comes the dawn of a new year.

.

a little odd some days may appear,

a little low we beings may descend,

but, withering flowers will bloom, sad hearts will cheer.

.

remove the mask, burn the veneer,

for upon ourselves we may depend,

because here comes the dawn of a new year.

.

and as we go, bleak may seem the atmosphere,

with each road posing a dead end,

yet, withering flowers will bloom, sad hearts will cheer.

.

For we shall dream less and toil more, my dear,

and the fruits we reap, we may not comprehend,

because here comes the dawn of a new year,

where withering flowers will bloom, sad hearts will cheer.

.

Cheemnonso

Cliffhanger

It’s been eons since you left,

but, your perfume still lingers in the attic;

the sun sleeps,

the dark creeps,

and as each day passes,

our past evanesces,

now, memories of you are

as thin as a knife’s edge,

and the more I cling unto them,

the more I bleed out,

so, it’s time I let go.

.

Cheemnonso

Happy Birthday

That moment when the hands of time stood still,

beknownst to me, a salient star is born,

brimming with joy from her head to her heel,

in a world prepossesed in angst and scorn;

I saw her for who she was to become,

not even a single sane soul could compare,

with her beauty rendering Aphrodite numb,

and her mien as cold as Medussa’s stare;

Fifteen seeds festooned in her garden by God,

fifteen years it took the first to germinate,

umpteen fruits harvested from thy first pod,

umpteen souls her Midas touch will make sate;

Really pleased blood strangled us with its ties,

leaving us with good times and not goodbyes.

.

Cheemnonso ✍️✍️

Freedom

Trapped in solitude, I see freedom,

Freedom to know when to utter and stutter,

Freedom to know when to leap and be leaped on,

Freedom to save by spending,

Freedom to eat my food for thought,

Freedom to be the extroverted introvert,

Freedom to move mountains while sitting,

Freedom to walk on water while sleeping,

Freedom to cuss through life’s courses,

Freedom to know what’s right and abhor what’s left,

Freedom to write my sweet sorrows,

Freedom to sketch my beautiful messes,

Freedom to sway and sway to freedom,

Moreso, I see the freedom to be free.

.

Cheemnonso ✍️✍️✍️