It was the culmination of African mass movements for independence stretching back nearly half a century and peaking during World War ii, a war in which upwards of , African men and women served the cause of the Allied Forces. We must all accept it as a fact, and our national policies must take account of it. Compiled over a period of six years, it contains work by writers from every region. An unknown error has occurred. Please click the button below to reload the page. If the problem persists, please try again in a little while.
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Once upon a time, son, they used to laugh with their hearts and laugh with their eyes: but now they only laugh with their teeth, while their ice-block-cold eyes search behind my shadow. Now they shake hands without hearts while their left hands search my empty pockets. So I have learned many things, son. I have learned to wear many faces like dresses — homeface,. And I have learned too to laugh with only my teeth and shake hands without my heart.
But believe me, son. I want to be what I used to be when I was like you. I want to unlearn all these muting things. So show me, son, how to laugh; show me how I used to laugh and smile once upon a time when I was like you. Some all-rounded writer with the wits to turn anything and everything to words with inspiration View All Posts.
I remember this one. Happy memories there were. Like Like. It simply reminds us of the changing times… I find it amusing really, that my childhood, which is barely one score and some years ago is so different from the times now… Maybe we need to learn to laugh a whole lot more… Problem is even our children are born without the laughter in their soul… So, who will teach us? I think most Literature teachers have a spark to them. Is it the reading that causes it for them?
I am glad you enjoyed the poem. Have you seen the collection it is from? It was published in I chanced upon it in Ibadan at some point and I grabbed it very quickly. Lovely collection of verse. I love this insightful piece of poetry! The Poet really captured the changing times and tides! Gone are those good old days when all was as it oughta! Where did we go wrong?! Whatever happened to good natured folks?! Life is now, for the most part; smokes and mirrors! So, better safe than sorry init?!
Aondo help us all and deliver us from ourselves! They say the days go worse as they come but are they only similar in a way to what we had before? I like the poem too for its bluntness and how it shows us what we have become… Men, women, who laugh with our teeth and hide our hearts! May the heavens save us o! But is there a way we can be different? Can we be true in all facets of life that we come across? Like Liked by 1 person. Well, if it makes you feel any better, it already did!
Much earlier on in the day! I really should peer out my window and go see if there is! Is there a full moon? Please share… My windows are not moon bound … but maybe I will stretch a bit from this spot… Full moons are lovely, especially when the twinkling lights accompany to make the night bright… Hee hee hee!
Playing on the words but wow… Are you a moon person? Moon person?! Was just goofing around but even at that, I love nature and well, maybe; just maybe; am indeed a moon person! Are you?! I like! The night is simply wonderful and that eye of the sky — the night sky sha, simply leaves me marveled. That poem… The Valentine poem… Hee hee hee! We have to induct you into the moon light o… It is a fine place to be.
Yeah, that one! The Val post! Induct me into the moonlight?! Who says I aint there already?! Is it working then?! Amazing writing by amazing writer…it just shows how badly we been influenced by the so called globalization or neo-colonialism today, and by the colonialism in the past.
Indeed… Really sad that he passed on only in the last few days… But, at over 90 years, how much more can we ask for? You are commenting using your WordPress. You are commenting using your Google account.
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Skip to content. I have learned to wear many faces like dresses — homeface, Gabriel Okara officeface, streetface, hostface, cocktailface, with all their conforming smiles like a fixed portrait smile. Like this: Like Loading Author: sueddie Some all-rounded writer with the wits to turn anything and everything to words with inspiration Thank you sir…for this, as always. Finally on point and she agrees with me… Are you sure rain will not fall today? LOL Like Like. Nope… I opened it wiiiiiiiiiiiiiide sef… Nothing showing… Like Liked by 1 person.
Whatever shall I do to make you see now?! Kosi wahala… we go manage Like Liked by 1 person. Yeah, right! Hee hee hee! Full blue moon! You just saw it?! Was just playing crazy and goofing off anyhow!
He was a nice man. A mentor ready to reach out. May his words speak on. Thanks, Helder. Would love to have your thoughts, please Cancel reply Enter your comment here Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:. Email required Address never made public. Name required. Post to Cancel. By continuing to use this website, you agree to their use.
Once upon a time, son, they used to laugh with their hearts and laugh with their eyes: but now they only laugh with their teeth, while their ice-block-cold eyes search behind my shadow. Now they shake hands without hearts while their left hands search my empty pockets. So I have learned many things, son. I have learned to wear many faces like dresses — homeface,. And I have learned too to laugh with only my teeth and shake hands without my heart. But believe me, son.
Gabriel Okara: Collected Poems
The first Modernist poet of Anglophone Africa, he is best known for his early experimental novel, The Voice , and his award-winning poetry, published in The Fisherman's Invocation  and The Dreamer, His Vision He remained in that post for nine years, during which he began to write. At first he translated poetry from Ijaw into English and wrote scripts for government radio. After leaving school Okara wrote plays and features for radio, and in his poem "The Call of the River Nun " won an award at the Nigerian Festival of Arts.
Once Upon A Time (A Poem) by Gabriel Okara
Gabriel Okara , in full Gabriel Imomotimi Gbaingbain Okara , born April 21, , Bumodi, Nigeria—died March 25, , Yenagoa , Nigeria , Nigerian poet and novelist whose verse had been translated into several languages by the early s. A largely self-educated man, Okara became a bookbinder after leaving school and soon began writing plays and features for radio. Some of his poems were published in the influential periodical Black Orpheus , and by he was recognized as an accomplished literary craftsman. The need to reconcile the extremes of experience life and death are common themes preoccupies his verse, and a typical poem has a circular movement from everyday reality to a moment of joy and back to reality again. Okara incorporated African thought, religion, folklore, and imagery into both his verse and prose.