My Poem ‘Rebirth’ and the Poetry Assessor

English: The Poem Tree, Wittenham Clumps, Oxfo...

English: The Poem Tree, Wittenham Clumps, Oxfordshire. Photograph by Jonathan Bowen. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I tried an app today on http://www.poetryassessor.com/poetry/

According to them, it “is designed to determine whether a poem has the characteristics of a professional poem or, alternatively, an amateur poem.”

I tested it using my poem below:

Rebirth‘ by Veronica Nkwocha

A dried branch,
tinder for fire
life ebbs
feeding the soil
A budding flower
A shrub of green
trembling with life
in the morning light

*It returned a score of 4.582! So I’m well pleased lol.

P.s. I’ve tried a few others and some haven’t done so well!

Positive scores indicate that a poem has characteristics of a professional poem while negative scores indicate that the poem has the characteristics of an amateur poem.”

*Caveat, I know nothing about the creators or the suitability of the application neither was I asked by them to test it.

*Update: There’s an update on the site ” it should be noted that the average word count of the poems used in the sample used to calibrate the system was 156 (maximum 378, minimum 21, St Dev 77). This means that results for poems of less than approximately 80 words should be interpreted with caution.”

My Thoughts on ‘Miracle’ by Tope Folarin

*This is one of five posts on the Caine Prize for African Writing 2013 Shortlist. A group as organised by Aaron Bady will be blogging about the entries (one per week) for the next five weeks until the prize is announced on the 8th of July. Please see the links below for details and a schedule.

My Thoughts on ‘Miracle’ by Tope Folarin 

By Veronica Nkwocha

‘Miracle’ (read herebegins with an all too familiar tale in the diaspora, a people uprooted and fragmented leaning close together huddling with the familiar. The thread that binds them in this story is religion and its ‘familiar’ rituals of service. The particular service presents an extreme focus on a man at the apex and a shivering pool of the faithful expectant of the heady feelings that herald a shared knowing as to their wholesomeness.

A most fascinating attribute about the story lies in the things it doesn’t say. ‘Miracle’ presents the congregants as almost child-like. Like a group of uniform wearing kids sitting up straight jacketed in class afraid of breaking any of the many rules, whether written or unspoken. The service is orgasmic but even when they dance happily and ecstatic, they do so in tandem with the dictates of an unseen conductor.

It is a church service and the supernatural typically trumps the physical, a spring where the faithful can draw strength to face the tough world outside. (Edit) It’s everyone doing the same thing lost in an ‘other-worldliness’  that creates an unsettling feeling, is that how its adherents are really perceived from the outside looking in?

Here wishes and desires take a front seat before reality; hope is worn leaving the dress of truth behind. The eyes of the boy were not healed but the glasses were cast aside. Is that faith? Will he see with perfect clarity? As the (more…)

My Thoughts on Bayan Layi by Elnathan John

*This is one of five posts on the Caine Prize for African Writing 2013 Shortlist. A group as organised by Aaron Bady will be blogging about the entries (one per week) for the next five weeks until the prize is announced on the 8th of July. Please see the links below for details and a schedule.

My Thoughts on Bayan Layi (A Short Story by Elnathan John)

By Veronica Nkwocha

Bayan Layi‘ boils down the effects of socio-political problems of a certain kind of abandonment, distills it and presents it to us as Dantala and his friends. Nature abhors a vacuum and we are cast into a tale of the repercussions. And one wonders how this [edit] ‘travesty’ became a reflection of us as a people, tied as we are to the author’s vivid description. It sets the tone where one feels a revulsion but can’t quite look away.

There is the niggling sensation as one reads this story; is it our failings as nurturers that spawn the ones who view killing as no more than a fly to be swatted? Empty spaces filled up with perverse watering holes feeding the plains where teenagers can strut their stuff boldly. Enabled by puppeteers who weave their hypnotic lies into the webs in which the Bandas and the Dantalas roam, stars in their eyes, believing they are free. They are there, barely mentioned in the story, a metaphor for real life; behind the scenes, unobtrusive but superlatively influential.

‘Bayan Layi’ peels all the layers of the onion and as we read, our eyes water at the hopelessness of the situation, babies bearing arms, the (more…)

An Iroko has Fallen – A Tribute to Chinua Achebe (Poetry)

A spiral stack of copies of the 1994 Anchor Bo...

A spiral stack of copies of the 1994 Anchor Books edition of Chinua Achebe’s novel Things Fall Apart (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

An Iroko has Fallen

By Veronica Nkwocha (a tribute to Chinua Achebe)

An Iroko has fallen
Who can disguise the din
An Iroko lays prone and all of the forest
Rise in silent tribute
He whose head and honour rose high in the sky
Is bowed
Not in trembling and fear
But as one who has performed great feats on the theatre of the world stage
Bowing as he takes his exit to heed the timeless call.
He leaves the forest and the testament of his earlier presence
Rings true and loud and unbroken
Only the silent can hear
May they heed the din from the Iroko
Rise to the stars
Stand tall and strong
Unbowed by life
And unbroken by the elements
An Iroko has fallen but the Iroko lives;
Long may it live.

Toga of the Bold (Poetry)

Maiden Image2

Toga of the Bold 

By Veronica Nkwocha

Today,
I am wearing the toga of the bold
The beautiful and the sassy
I am vibrant,
I am feisty
And I am unbreakable.
Where is the wind to make me turn my gaze?
Where is the hate that will make me hide in shame?
Where are you O brass to tame my shine?
For I am gold,
Pure and invaluable;
I am a gem of intricate proportions
Fashioned after my maker
In the similitude of a palace