top of page

Rebirth: A Collection of Poems By Kamgharida Ejiogu

  • Feb 23, 2024
  • 2 min read

Sayings

Betray the Salt

A tipped over salt cellar

An indication

A warning

An answer to the calls they didn’t pick up

A cry for the loud whispers they share when you walk by

An epiphany for the obliviousness that hid their schemes

A desperate plea for them stop disregarding your time and feelings

An annulment to the years you spent thinking you were friends

A tipped over salt cellar

Bottled and sandwiched into a simple saying about betrayal


Laughter

The banging of the rain

Hitting against the window

Was also as deafening

As the cackles inside.

A simple one-liner

Or a cheesy reference

Would erupt a room

Into incessant strings of Laughter.


Gee Willikers

My mother would always tell me

To stay away from words too colorful

For the vocabulary of a middle-schooler.

My once colorful palette

Dwindled to the few leftover words

My great-grandpa would say inorder

To censor himself around his great-grandchildren. 

Each time I cut my finger on paper,

Or take a little tumble,

An old fashioned, “goodness me”

Or, “Oh brother” slips

Rather than my traditional terminology.

I don’t mind the change, however.

In each “gee williker,”

I carry a bit of my great-grandpa.


Spel Chek

The squiggly lines highlighting

My supposed error

My inability to correctly string

Incoherent phonetics and rules

Together.

The constant contradictions

Of i before e

Except after c

The confusing pairs stealing

The originality of f

How one vowel 

Dominates the conversation while walking.

I hover over my error,

My inability to spell a simple english word

Sound out the intricate and complex combinations

That weave together a form of communication.

I right click the squiggles,

Conforming to the boundaries of spelling.


Rebirth

To be born

To live

To grow

To conform

To assimilate

To follow

To trap

To die.


Yet,

A sudden new thought

One unable to conform

Unable to box itself

In pretty packaging

And continue the generational cycle

Stricks the others.

An uprising

Perhaps a riot

Where sentences diversify

Structure holds no power

And something new is born.


A Renaissance.

 
 

Recent Posts

See All
Becoming What I'm Not by Liza Lane

The grass scratches her legs as she runs through it, chasing her dogs until her feet feel like they’ll give out with another step. She flops onto the grass, lying down and trying to find pictures in t

 
 
Birds by Anonymous

Inspired by “Simile” by N. Scott Momaday What did we say to each other That now we are as the birds— Who communicate through songs, Who soar through the sky; With beaked jaws and soft feathers,

 
 
The Other Room by Mayme Killeen

They’re talking about me—I know it. Their words fill my ears with honey—thick and sweet and tantalizing. Muffled, though. Only abstract shapes and sounds ring out as if the architect of their conversa

 
 

© 2026 • THE EIDOLON • WALT WHITMAN HIGH SCHOOL

bottom of page