Children's Crusade 1939

In 'thirty-nine, in Poland
a bloody battle took place,
turning many a town and village
into a wilderness.

The sister lost her brother,
the wife her husband in war,
the child between fire and rubble
could find his parents no more.

From Poland no news was forthcoming
neither letter nor printed word,
but in all the Eastern countries
a curious tale can be heard.

Snow fell when they told one another
this tale in an Eastern town
of a children's crusade that started
in Poland, in 'thirty-nine.

Along the highroads in squadrons
there hungry children tripped,
and on their way picked up others
in villages gutted and stripped.

They wanted to flee from the fighting
so that the nightmare would cease
and one day at last they'd arrive in
a country where there was peace.

They had a little leader
who was their prop and stay.
This leader had one great worry:
he did not know the way.

A girl of eleven carried
a toddler of four without ease,
lacking nothing that makes a mother
but a country where there was peace.

A little Jewish boy marched in the troop,
with velvet collar and cuff,
he was used to the whitest of bread
and he fought bravely enough.

And two brothers joined this army,
each a mighty strategist,
these took an empty cottage by storm
with nothing but rain to resist.

And a lean grey fellow walked there,
by the roadside, in isolation,
and bore the burden of terrible guilt:
he came from a Nazi legation.

There was a musician among them
who in a shelled village found a drum one day
and was not allowed to strike it,
so as not to give them away.

And there was also a dog,
caught for the knife at the start,
yet later kept on as an eater
Because no one had the heart.

And they had a school there also,
and a small teacher who knew how to yell,
and a pupil against the wall of a shot-up tank
as far as peac... learned to spell.

And there was a concert too:
by a roaring winter stream one lad
was allowed to beat the drum,
but no one heard him. Too bad.

And there was a love affair.
She was twelve, he was fifteen.
In a secluded courtyard
she combed his hair.

This love could not last long,
too cold the weather came on.
How can the little tree flower
with so much snow coming down?

And there was a war as well,
for there was another crowd beside this
and the war only came to an end
because it was meaningless.

But when the war still raged
around a shelled pointman's hut,
suddenly, so they say, one party
found their food supply had been cut.

And when the other heard this, they sent
a man to relieve their plight
with a sack of potatoes, because
without food one cannot fight.

There was a trial too,
with a pair of candles for light,
and after much painful examining
the judge was found guilty that night.

And a funeral too: of a boy
with velvet on collar and wrist;
it was two Poles and two Germans
carried him to his rest.

Protestant, Catholic and Nazi were there
when his body to earth they were giving,
and at the end a little Socialist spoke
of the future of the living.

So there was faith and hope,
only no meat and no bread,
and let no man blame them if they stole a few things
when he offered no board or bed.

And let no man blame the needy man
who offered no bread or rice,
for with fifty to feed it's a matter
of flour, not self-sacrifice.

They made for the south in the main.
The south is where the sun
at midday, twelve o'clock sharp
lies straight in front of one.

True, they found a soldier
who wounded on fir-needles lay.
They nursed him for seven days
so he could show them the way.

He told them: To Bilgoray!
Delirious, surely, far gone,
and he died on the eight day.
They burried him too, and moved on.

And there were sign-posts also,
though snow rubbed the writing out;
Only they'd cease to point the way,
having been turned about.

This was not for a practical joke,
but on a military ground,
and when they looked for Bilgoray
the place was not to be found.

They stood around their leader
who looked up at the snowy air
and, extending his little hand,
said, it must be over there.

Once, at night, they saw a fire,
but better not go, they decided.
Once three thanks rolled past them,
each with people inside it.

Once, too, they came to a city,
and skirted it, well out of sight;
till they'd left it well behind them
they only marched on at night.

In what used to be South-East Poland
when snow swept the landscape clean
that army of fifty-five children
was last seen.

If I close my eyes and try,
I can see them trudged on
from one shell-blasted homestead
to another shell-blasted one.

About them, in the cloudy spaces,
I see new long trains progress,
painfully trudging in the cold wind's face,
homeless, directionless.

Looking for the country at peace,
without fire and thunder's blast,
not like that from which they have come;
and the train grows vast.

And soon in the flickering half-light
no longer the same it seemed:
other little faces I saw,
Spanish, French, yellow ones gleamed.

That January, in Poland
a stray dog was caught;
hanging from its lean neck
a cardboard notice it brought.

It reads: please come and help us!
We no longer know the way.
There are fifty-five of us.
The dog won't lead you astray.

Don't shoot him dead.
Only he knows the place.
With him
our very last hope you'd efface.

The writing was in a child's hand.
By farmers it was read.
Since then a year and half have passed.
The dog, who was starving, is dead.
Copyright © Bertolt Brecht [translated by Michael Hamburger]

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CHRISACEDARUTH
        (The Long Awaited)
        

    Samuel C. Enunwa




             CONTENTS
Dedication……………………..
Acknowledgement…………….
Author’s note………………….
My wealthy neighbour………...
Jungle………………………….
Johnny as a kid………………..
At the stream………………….
What happened in heaven…….
Under the spell………………...
Two tombs…………………….
Eligible married couple 1&2….
Detective Tel 1,2,3,4&5………
My love promo………………..
Chrisacedaruth………………..
Ode to the poet’s curtain……..
Halle Bery…………………….
They’re searching through Google…..
                       
         DEDICATION:
                         To thee, lovers of poetry
                 Pretty
                       effort and ability
       I dedicate this to thee willingly.

             ACKNOWLEDGEMENT
       I thank God for this book, if not for him this would have been in vain. Mrs. A. A. Enunwa, I won’t stop trying though I know I won’t be able to repay your motherly love; Thank, you mother. My thanks also goes to you, Mr. & Mrs. Bamgboye, your labour and pain over me will never be in vain and in your family, blessings will continually rain. Daddy Leonard, I dey hail o and make blessing full your too, Amen.
     Enunwa Onyeka, Enunwa Eric, Enunwa Ruth, Bamgboye Kolawole, I appreciate you all. Aribido Daniel(D-Gbegbe), you are so mouthed; how is Rufus Giwa Polytechnic? Engr. Akinrelere Omotayo (T-money), how far? Ajibade Taiwo (Jah. Mr. Okra, Mr. Federal ); I appreciate you all.
     I can never forget you, all the Durance Publishing crew and those of the www.i-proclaim.com. Thank you and keep up the good work. May the good Lord reward you all, Amen. Finally, to all my friends @ www.samueldpoetry.webs.com
www.poetrypoem.com/samueldpoetry442, www.poetrypublisher.com/samueldpoetry445, www.lovepoemsandpoetry.com/samueldpoetry441, www.myfaithsite.com/samueldpoetryfaith1, etc. thank you all for your love.
  
           AUTHOR’S NOTE
      It gladdens the whole of me, each time the thought and assurance of the fact that the scope of poetry is broader than anyone can mention, comes to my thinking. Poetry can take any form; it can be lyrical or satirical, come in form of praise or in a long narrative form which happens to be the poetic form, I’ve made use of in this book titled CHRISACEDARUTH(The Long Awaited).
     As I’ve said, this book contains more than ten narrative poems in which CHRISACEDARUTH(The Long Awaited) bears the same name with the title of this book and has over two thousand five hundred lines, divided into more than fifteen stanzas. It is the story of a village boy, who happens not to be who he thought he was but later maybe through the help of luck or through the force of fate, or maybe through his personal strives, discovered his true self, his weaknesses, strengths, etc.
  It is also true that the poem: CHRISACEDARUTH(The Long Awaited) is the major reason for this book but I’ve also garnished it with inclusion of other funny, entertaining and educating poems like The Eligible Married Couple 1&2, the most wanted, Detective Tel 1,2,3,4&5; and My Love Promo, which happens to be the favorite of almost all my fans @ www.facebook.com, among others.
     Aside from the fact that the poems are rhyme oriented, I’ve tried and made sure they are sculpted with simple languages and diction. Before you ask me my reason, I’ll tell you that I do not believe in complexity. What’s the essence of turning enjoyment to homework? My paramount aim is to cure your boredom. My major aim is to make this book, your teddy bear, your pet, you can take anywhere and as you read, I believe your boredom will be deleted. Thanks, for your love.
                        Samuel C. Enunwa.


 
   
   MY WEALTHY NEIGHBOUR
He never cheated nature
But pilled himself to labour
At exactly twenty four
He met expected future
Became a famous employer of labour
And poverty couldn’t knock his door
Then sighed and took a resting posture
And slept and slept and snored
And fell from couch to the floor
Yes, he was held by nature
Who? The famous employer of labour
Whom we were once a neighbour
And loved his hardworking nature
He slept and snored on the floor
While they knocked his office door
For they loved his overture
Yet he slept and slept and snored
And slept and slept on the floor
And so scared of his earth departure
They knocked and knocked his office door
And knocked as if to create puncture
And opened and found him on the floor
When broken his office door
“When did oga start this nature?”
They asked and laughed him on the floor
And logged him from the floor
Back to his resting posture
He slept and slept and snored
And sometimes fell on the floor
And feeding became his failure
And was only catered by neighbours
Where he slept and snored
And must be dreaming, I’m sure
Of living with lady he adored
And they talked and toured
And shared a love adventure
Where he slept and snored
At exactly ninety four
He woke from his resting posture
And was a celebration galore
And walked on the floor
Then fell and got final departure
And that my wealthy neighbour
Who was dead on the floor
Taught me not to cheat nature.
               Samuel C. Enunwa. July 13, 2009.

            JUNGLE
Happiness dwindled
As loneliness doubled
And none to rekindle
But while ago were whistles
Shout for passes and dribbles
Songs held their paddles
Till end of the battle
A football battle
Mirthful and memorable
Two elephants wrestled
Grasses had to struggle
At the grassless middle
Fell he who dribbled
Stood and took water bottle
From the first aid people
More than thousand people
Young, old and middle
Aged happy people
Singing were married couples,
Kids and searching singles
Lovers turned compatible
Pretty belles chew bubble
Received short cuddles
As they screamed amidst people
During goals, shots and dribbles
And the pretty one I cuddled
Made the battle memorable
I wished for endless battle
Because of love incomparable
That waited amidst the people
But the final whistle
Changed the people
Made happiness dwindled
And loneliness doubled
It was unbelievable
Only me at the middle
Of chairs, I couldn’t buckle
My shoes, I mingled
With darkness, no candle
To see, I was cripple
And had to struggle
I learnt after the battle
That change was flexible
Though I was able
To escape that silence jungle.
   Samuel C. Enunwa. Sept. 12, 2009.

         JOHNNY AS A KID
One Sunday, immediately after
One a.m, Jonathan Odda
Appeared on earth like other
Children born in Igala
Jonathan Sunday Odda
The son of Mr. Jack Odda
A very skillful welder
And Mrs. Jane Odda
A sweet kola nut seller
Was fair as his father
Not hairy as his mother
Had a brother and a sister
And friends and grandfather
Only called him Johnny Odda
When Jonathan Sunday Odda
Began walk and talk to his mother
His father and every other in Igala
He began to surprise his mother
Father and every other in Igala
And loved to stick to his mother
And they both crossed the Igala boarder
On foot to villages next to Igala
Where she sold her sweet kola
One Sunday, immediately after
Six a. m. Jonathan Odda
Left the side of his mother
Who hadn’t crossed Igala boarder
For she was short of kola
And two years old Johnny Odda
Trekked and crossed Igala boarder
For he missed his female lover
Who happened to be the daughter
A beautiful two years old daughter
Of a major buyer to his mother.
             Samuel C Enunwa Jun. 15, 2010.



   
        AT THE STREAM
I met a beautiful lady at the stream
With no fetching bowl at the stream
“What a beautiful lady at the stream!
Beautiful than the advertisers of cream
She might even be goddess of this stream”
I said to myself at the stream
Then to the beauty …


        UNDER THE SPELL
I wish I was an angel
To feel the feelings people feel
And stay and make them feel
Well when others bid farewell
Because I knew very well
Of a village near a dell
Where a beauty …




       TWO TOMBS
My buttocks and two thumbs
Are sitting on a tomb
Waiting for mother to come
You should know Ukpom
The greatest warrior of Atagom
Slim, dark and handsome
But where does …

ELIGIBLE MARRIED COUPLE 1
Eligible married couples
Soon get into trouble
Offer each other battle
Live so unstable
And uncomfortable
And regret being couple
When the …

      DETECTIVE TEL 1
Hi! I’m Detective Tel
Investigating the death of Micheal
The death of Joseph A. Micheal
Found dead at the street of Sel
Not far from Pleasantry Hotel
The thirty two years old, Micheal
Was dark and huge and tall
And had wavy hair as well
More attractive than I can tell
Married women and mature girls
And those with age I’ll not tell
Will do anything to have Micheal
When I heard the death of Micheal
I became scared than I can tell
And felt this world is a hell
Cried and couldn’t feed well
Took my Bible and my bell
Prayed God rescue from this hell
But who could kill Micheal?
Took and slaughtered A. Micheal?
There was a quarrel between Micheal
And his landlord where he dwelt
And Adam Cole threatened Micheal
Who slept with his girl
And Joseph A. Micheal
Had empty wallet where he fell
Lent money to Campbell
And jilted so many girls
But who could killed Micheal?
Took and slaughtered A. Micheal?
The police and I, Tel
Have locked the suspects in cell
My investigation on Campbell
Showed he paid Micheal
And the landlord of Micheal
Only quarreled with Micheal
Over payment of where he dwelt
And he had paid as well
But couldn’t pick a jilted girl
Or who emptied the wallet of Micheal
And today, Adam Cole died in cell
So who could kill Micheal?
Took and slaughtered A. Micheal?
Who only if I tell
Could suspect me Detective Tel
Took and slaughtered A. Micheal?
For having affair with my wife, Arnabel.
            Samuel C Enunwa Jun. 27, 2010.

       DETECTIVE TEL 2
Hi! I’m Detective Tel
Everybody knows me well
I investigated the death of Micheal
The death of Joseph A. Micheal
Found dead at the street of Sel
Not far from Pleasantry Hotel
I swear, now …

 


  MY LOVE PROMO
Here comes the info
To shorties with no
In this sumptuous promo
Where soft Hi! Wins, Hello!
And makes you my duo
In my attempt to woo.

We’ll date without ado,
Travel and zoom to zoo,
Watch animals like rhino,
Lion, merino and buffalo;
Birds like flamingo,
Puffin, kiwi and cuckoo.

Tour place like Toronto,
Boarding a beautiful jumbo,
Cruising a stretch limo
And by rail, the loco
Making the trip in toto
To places we go.

Visit a beach lido
Where you’ll bask in lilo
While I play waterpolo
Or an American rodeo
By dressing like gaucho
And gallop a bronco.

Party and listen to rondo
Where served burrito or taco
When I dance tango or zydeco
Amidst White, Indian and Negro
Or act opera with libretto
Blended by cello for physio.

Then drive home as love and bro
When the sky is indigo
To pour you some ouzo
In my room with stereo
Playing songs with intro
While you watch my photo.

At this very canto,
Once you aren’t a bimbo
And possess a libido,
I won’t act as bozo,
Loving will be our cameo
To prove our brio.

I’ll move like yo-yo,
Making the process in vivo,
And move to hear Sam o!
Making the process in vitro
So you can call me hero,
And a love supreme.


        CHRISACEDARUTH
          (The Long Awaited)
      
I’m glad, I can be heard
The journey of over hundred
Years, this’ how it stared
The sun over our heads
Was nothing but fire red
Hotter than hell was said
To be; maize, …
The above poems are excerpts from the book titled CHRISACEDARUTH [The Long Awaited] which is available both in hard copy and e-book at www.i-proclaimbookstore.com/poetry/chrisacedaruth(the_long_awaited)
  The poems below are just for you to have a taste of my next book titled “PEOPLE PLACES AND PERSONALITIES” and I’m sure, you’ll derive from it all lessons and fun you wish for. Thank you.

ODE TO THE POET’S CURTAIN
Eh! What a screen with a heavenly picture!
Picturing an artistic fixture,
Turning my bedroom to a museum of culture
That handsomely showcases the native of passion
With the exhibition of heavenly creatures.

Hi! You scattered lightening of illumination!
I embarrassingly cherish your illustration;
What a great explanation!
For illuminating heaven’s innovation.

Oh! You banana shaped fluorescence of harmony!
Harmonizing damsels as the heavenly legacy;
I marvel at your melody
Because you speak from memory
To the best of my memory.

Hello! You specially carved image of passion!
Sitting on the harmonious banana fluorescence
With a crown-like beret of assertion,
Wearing an angelic gown of emergence
Ribbonly embellished for fashion;
What a comely face of continence!
That never conceals emotion
By reproducing an alluring smile
Romanticizing my soul with affection;
All in this heavenly picture.

     HALLE BERY
I’ve blind argued many, many
Beings of this arresting beauty
Till I set my eventually
Double opened nakely
Eyes on Halle Bery
Not in the telly
Not physically
But the cover of Ebony
Where waited she sexily
My friend! My foe!! My family
Now I can bet my money
Bet the whole of my money
With conviction in my belly
That God Almighty
Sculpted Halle Bery
On Monday very early
To possess such a beauty.
       Samuel C Enunwa Mar. 11, 2011

THEY’RE SEARCHING THROUGH GOOGLE
Hi! I’m Enunwa Samuel
I wrote, “Detective Tel”
“Under the Spell”
Plus poems people wanted
And also authored
“How Love Is Treated”
I’ve never wanted to
Tell my story _ true
But people are searching through
Google,
Devilfinder, Ask and Yahoo
To hear the horse’s mouth too
From C.R.I.N Staff School to
Ibadan Grammar School to
The one and only TASUED
Not where I learnt bonjour
I understand English too
Igbo, Yoruba _ ki lo tun ku?
I’ve never wanted to
Tell my story _ true
But people are searching through
Google,
Devilfinder, Ask, and Yahoo
To hear …

      INDEX OF FIRST LINE
And at me she stared…………
And the man regreeted……….
And the shadow of a hand…….
Eh! What a screen with a heavenly picture!......
Eligible married couple………
Everywhere was neat and weeded…
Fylid………………………….
Fylid, I was scared……………
Gently, she held……………...
Happiness dwindled………….
He never cheated nature……...
Here comes the info………….
Hi! I’m Detective Tel………..
Hi! I’m Enunwa Samuel……..
I faintly narrated……………..
“I know”, he said……………
I looked……………………..
I mean, when out of bed……..
I met a beautiful lady at the stream…..
I’m glad, I can be heard………
Immediately morning appeared….
In the village we landed……..
I sat and threw above my head…….
I sat quietly on my bed………
I searched and searched……..
I thought in my head………..
It was sudden descend………
I’ve blind argued many, many….
I was so, so, so scared………
I wish, I was an angel……….
Lying amidst the long dead….
My buttocks and two thumbs…
One Sunday, immediately after…
Someday, I’ll be in heaven……
Suddenly appeared……………
Then father held me and Fred….
Then I called…………………
They learnt human can never be predicted….
They were the ones at our bed….
“This can’t be Helied…………
When they beheaded………….
We trekked and trekked and trekked….
…Your mother narrated………