The Raging Storm.

The sounds of the season return,
winds whistle our way with ferocious rage…
rains helplessly pound down my window pane
with boisterous intensity.
The skies are thickened with gloomily, grey clouds as
sparks of lightning slice through with electrifying splendor.

Thundering,
as reckless as the fury of a drunken spouse,
rustling leaves conjure melodic notes,
swaying trees back and forth, unabashed.
Mother Nature,

Relentlessly, pounds, speeds through without a care.
A soothing pause, a respite for a few…
Then, illuminating flurry, thundering, gleaming
through the night skies;
In the distance winds howl,
enters another round of fury!

A pacifying pita, pat continue,
a gentle lull to sleep.
Only but for a few, awakened,
Yet another round of roaring lights shattering
through the shutters again and again…

Once more, asleep under the enchanting lull of
the calming force of Mother Nature.
Now and then, trepidation grips,
that the rage yet again, gains control!

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Nights of stolen happiness.

The scars of war…
worn in nights of stolen happiness,
heard when sirens bleed,
heart racing,
following traverses undefined.

In sleeplessness I slumber,
and drums beat,
in rhythms of lands trapped in
stories yet to be told, waiting to be born.

How come I run, feet fiercely
rooted in this place where time
stands still?
Hoping for daylight to wake.

Again,
Running, floating and flailing, yet I hear
No one, see none
open the door,
stretched out in beads of salt in dark wake of night!

Alone…

Alone…
a lone bird chirping,
Spreads a smile
a mile long
from the burden borne.

Alone…
for a moment
hear hope,
Give way to a new day,
A new day to hope
the best in life
greets you with
a smile.

Chinyere.

“What was that code?”

Drained…monotonous bombardments
of highs, and lows,
bounce one to another.
Embedded in cores that measure
life’s
safe in caring hands,
serving hearts, endure abuse of peers…
white coats screaming in fashion so insane,
with disdain,
for chores stellar to embrace.

A facade of harmonious chaos pierce
through eyes,
hearts turn cold, cyanotic ceil-blue, and white;
False eyes measure
the conscience to shame.

“Safe Harbor”!
A heart arrests, a code is called,
…red for FIRE!
Fire to live again, fire to exhale …into poetry!

#Soap Notes!

A lesson in judging.

A friend of mine was expressing her dissatisfaction about a pastor who is notorious in her church for singling out tithers for special prayers. The pastor in question, actually calls out tithing members to the altar to pray special blessings for them. After which he goes on to describe those who do not tithe as thieves who are robbing God because they do not tithe. Instead, he claims they spend money on ostentatious purchases, like name brand purses worth more than the money spent on food for the family. He explains that the Gucci bags they’ve adorned themselves with, are bought from money stolen from God. My friend is peeved by these comments, and rightly so.

However, I spoke up in defense of the pastor. If you can afford a thousand-dollar Gucci bag, and not tithing or giving a generous offering to the work of the Kingdom, that you claim citizenship of, and reap all the benefits of, then, you are probably not a good steward of the money God has placed in your possession.

Then again, I thought: who has called me to be the judge over others? God is not only going to hold us accountable for our “purses”, but our time as well; spent unwisely, doing unprofitable deeds, will have to be accounted for. We are all guilty of robbing God in so many other ways.
Your area of robbery may be that you lack control when your eyes fall on a Gucci bag that costs a thousand dollars and you can’t help but buy it, even when it’s way beyond your pocket; and mine might be the allure of a seemingly harmless, but time consuming, interest in watching TV programs like “Dance Moms”, “The Voice” or “America’s Got Talent”. Fancy how many minutes of a God-given day is spent on trivialities that steal our hearts away from Christ.

I believe this is the reason why we have been carefully admonished not to be the judge of others. Your responsibility is to take a good look at the man or woman in the mirror and, judge yourself, so you are not judged; while you’r doing so, I am reminded of a prayer common among the evangelical Christian folks. It’s a prayer of confession that goes like this…
“No weapon formed against me shall prosper,
Any tongue that rises in judgement against me is condemned…”
Really?
We pray it with such passion, that anyone sitting or standing around us
would think they were the “tongue” in question.
We forget that many who recant that prayer bring a curse
and condemnation on themselves. We judge others everyday. The ones whom we judge share the same faith in those prayers as we do.
So, the question now becomes: Whose tongue is condemning who?

Whenever you offer that prayer, search yourself so you don’t bring upon yourself curses and condemnation, and then wonder why things are not going right in your life.
Next thing you know, you start binding and casting out demons that are nothing more but the ones you’ve created yourself.
When the urge to judge someone else’s actions overcomes you, remember
you are an overcomer and resist the devil and he will flee from you, not towards you!
When you point one finger at your neighbor, guess how many fingers are saying “back at ya”? Four!
Have a great day!

Sounds, Voices and Colors.

The sounds and shades of this moment’s
distinct tones, and hues of waveforms strike
familiar chords at my heart’s strings that
lift me back in time, and with a jolting dip to here and now.

The kaleidoscope of colors immerse me in dreams past
that prophesied bound echoes of your voices,
As thoughts are flung back in time to choices
Made in trepidatious fear of the unknown,
Wondering if I was right or wrong?

For certain you turned out right!
The blooming years melt into infinity,
a black hole of unfulfilled memories.
But, the gloomy nights were mine to bear.

Now, the sunset graciously emblazons the sky,
What sounds and colors will light my path back to you?
I wait to see, still to hear them fall, and sweep my feet, and lift me up
on expansive wings of Glory.

Nice to meet you!

I’m Chinyere Nwachukwu, a former Broadcast Journalist / Producer with Radio Nigeria, Lagos.
Most of my family and friends call me ChiChi.
You have my permission to address me by my nickname if you so please.
I believe as we get to know each other better, we will become friends and family. At least, that is my wish…
to grow into “a family that will stay together, and lifetime friends that will stick closer than a brother!”

I worked in the media from 1981 to 1993. I’m a mother of four amazing children, two sons and two daughters. My older children are a set of fraternal twins who are 27 years old.
I Currently live in Houston Texas, as a Registered Nurse, with my 19 year old son and 12 year old daughter.
Like Houston, Lagos is a hot and humid, major Port City in Nigeria, located in Sub Saharan West-Africa. It used to be the Nation’s Capital till the 1990’s when the country’s Capital moved to Abuja, in the middle belt of the country. So, I’m quite at home and love it in this place.

On this blog, I will be upfront and let you know now that nothing is off limits as long as it references current happenings in our world.
It could be spiritual, because “I am not ashamed of the gospel of Jesus Christ, it is the power of God to salvation”. There, you have it! That’s a great part of who I am and what I’m about.
It will touch on Politics, Social economics, Sports, Finance, Religion etc!
Brace yourself for a good time. It will be news, fresh, gossipy-juicy and fun.

ChiChi.