11/19/2021
10/30/2012
11/29/2010
New Book By Bill F. NDI
Bill NDI's Toil and Delivery can be as playful and loaded as the clues in a cryptic crossword puzzle, which is to say that they are marked by a strange, energetic hybridity. They occupy a dynamic space between nursery rhyme and visionary Romantic verse, between the colloquial and the archaic, between post-modernity and anachronism. They are local and global, political and personal, Western and non-Western. With experiences traversing both Africa and the West, Bill F. NDI is one of those poets who gives meaning to the word globalisation. He embraces poetry as a material act in a troubled world, with poetry's power conveyed with typical irony.
10/02/2010
Exceprts from WAVES OF ANGER By Bill F. NDI
Blood ’twixt Green & Yellow
When the waves wash off our coast
Not far from the Chariot of God, our boast
Spitting flames golden yellow
Telling of forebears’ Sorrow
In
In our twisted tongue, Limbe
We dream the flames will be out
When the waves have come and gone
We wake up to see nothing undone
Not even the blood stain ’twixt green and yellow
On the flag flapping as the waves goad us follow
Not as our parents did with the République
That burnt, killed & buried
Where Paul as Jo before does pout. Waves of Anger
08/21/2010
07/25/2010
04/26/2010
04/04/2010
Easter Wings.
Lord, who createdst man in wealth and store,
Though foolishly he lost the same,
Decaying more and more,
Till he became
Most poore:
With thee
Oh let me rise
As larks, harmoniously,
And sing this day thy victories:
Then shall the fall further the flight in me.
My tender age in sorrow did beginne:
And still with sicknesses and shame
Thou didst so punish sinne,
That I became
Most thinne.
With thee
Let me combine
And feel this day thy victorie:
For, if I imp my wing on thine
Affliction shall advance the flight in me.
Lord, who createdst man in wealth and store, Though foolishly he lost the same, Decaying more and more, Till he became Most poore: With thee Oh let me rise As larks, harmoniously, And sing this day thy victories: Then shall the fall further the flight in me. My tender age in sorrow did beginne: And still with sicknesses and shame Thou didst so punish sinne, That I became Most thinne. With thee Let me combine And feel this day thy victorie: For, if I imp my wing on thine Affliction shall advance the flight in me. |
