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| WINNER OF POEM OF THE MONTH KEMI BON RECEIVING HER PRICE |
WAR RANT
It took me a long time to say what I wanted to say
Fifteen seconds Two minutes Six hours and one day
I communicated in all kinds of different ways
Whispers Laughter Shouting and silent wails
Whatever I remember later I'll send by mail
It was not easy shaking an iroko tree for dew drops to fall
But I managed to say and do it all
To unwind
Speak my mind
And shake my behind
I no longer feel confined
After seventeen years of silent strife
Of trying to be a good wife
Of resisting to make use of the kitchen knife
I've finally had my say
Destroyed the feet of clay
And I'm ready to stay or go away
What do you have to say?
It took me a long time to say what I wanted to say
Fifteen seconds Two minutes Six hours and one day
I communicated in all kinds of different ways
Whispers Laughter Shouting and silent wails
Whatever I remember later I'll send by mail
It was not easy shaking an iroko tree for dew drops to fall
But I managed to say and do it all
To unwind
Speak my mind
And shake my behind
I no longer feel confined
After seventeen years of silent strife
Of trying to be a good wife
Of resisting to make use of the kitchen knife
I've finally had my say
Destroyed the feet of clay
And I'm ready to stay or go away
What do you have to say?
ERHIO OBODO
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MY
JOURNEY
I was created in the spirit lands
Made out of perfection
A seed to be sown
To grow and mature
To have an identity
These roads built in cycles
My path to choose
Spiraling up and down
A path to self discovery
In these journey where ignorance
Is a burden
To the wisdom of men
My mistakes and failures
Will come to my aid
To make me stronger
To learn to choose within the
moment
The path to wisdom’s fountain
head
Once again I will set sail
To return once more
To the very beginning
Where the small cycles
Completes the eternal one
IFEANYI
OKWOSHA AUGUST 2015
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PREJUGE1 – POEM OF THE MONTH
When did the race for the best
race truly
begin?
It didn’t start with Hitler
and it sure didn’t end with him
The 1400’s or earlier still?
Incomplete, not the “right”
color, not
the way “we” are so pain
instill?
Eliminate, purge, erase.
The carousel never stops
turning
Tellurians birthed a dis-ease
Rejecting the ease to
accommodate
A fellow inhabitant
The disrespect for another’s
Opinions, views and values
got woven into the fabric
Painted on the canvas of
Society like art
Given away freely in
Religion, tribe and way of life
And living
Soon we all got a piece
of bi-as
good, bad and ugly
An unsightly situation
That birthed
Thoughts like
Trans and gender
Don’t forget the inequality
Claimed by the weaker vessel
Don’t buy me an a*se
I have a bi-as against that
I think therefore I am
Black, Yoruba, Kinky haired
woman
Need I add that I am proud of
that too?
Kemibon
1.Bias
KEMI BON
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ALTITUDE
Throbbing hearts in flood
Papers seeking conscience
Quiet voices speak
Hysterical pain seeks guilt
The emotions
Like an avalanche
Building up
Storming through the trees
Racing, running, climbing, jumping
Looking down
No movement
Seeking lemons after the storm
The water has risen
Life goes on
Learnt something
Ever changing
Ever new
BIOLA
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//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
Seek Within
The
morning bells toll from a distance
A
call to my sleeping soul
The
hour 05:00, whispers to my ears
The
need for movement
In
my hand rests a torch light
I
had no feel of it as everywhere is covered in darkness
My
stomach rumbles in expectation
Out
I’m worn by tiredness of my expectations
In
the beautiful gardens, my eyes glare.
Up
I look, to be walled up by the mountains
Silver,
gold, bronze, ruby and rope, Were the decors of the foot of the mountains
To
the peak of the mountains, my being seeks to reach
in
expectations of what the horizon holds.
I
climbed and failed, I climbed and failed, I climbed and failed.
The
tolls of a distant bell
Once
again calls to my sleeping soul
Up
on my feet I got, confused by the darkness that surrounds me.
And
the torch light I heeded not
Then
I heard a voice calling from not afar
Oshodi!
Oshodi!
“My
world!” My spirit cried
I’m
a Nigerian!
OSCAR
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PEOPLE LOVING PEOPLE
An end to the world as we know it
Peering into smiles, asking what the
hell is the mind showing
All teeth and no joy
All bliss and no peace
Just the cart before the horse
It’s just me or I but never us
It’s the end of the world as we know
it
To write about a date that is certain
A journey for all, wondering who’s
our captain
Being alive isn’t cheap
Even the dead will pay to creep
People loving people
A heart becoming feeble
I saw them on the stairs
They confirmed all that I feared
It is an affair
My words, my alarming tone, I
hope I didn’t interfere
It was my business, the none
To denounce my beliefs and begone
Left to Hades to prove it isn’t myth
If he comes to life, they predicted
I’ll be his meat
Sacrifice offered alive
Predator circling prey
When there is danger, evil disappears
allows a tongue to pray
An end to the world as we know it
People loving people
Exceptions becoming rule
Sickly cells poring through blood
Genes defying types
Dreams are now bursting pipes
Fingers getting a bonus
In sixes and sevens,
What to do now,
When love is done and hate beckons
Marrying for love but getting stuck
in a marriage
If the road is dual carriage
And pathways of tenderness becomes
bush-walled by thorns
What scares us to turn
Who says we shouldn’t return to the
gallery
What do you make of heaven fanning
hell’s fury?
People hating people
Hatred of the kind that bears dimples
He loves a mark, excludes those
without
He adores a tongue, declares only the
best comes from the south
Love brewed in the pot of exclusion
They both made ablutions
But one will perish the other,
without feeling a need for absolution
It is hatred, it is love
The world isn’t what the books
painted
Love isn’t true when there’s nothing
to abhor
Faith hinging on the weakness of
others
Love your brothers, but hate the
others
People hating people
It is night, if kin says so
It is time the exiled comes home
To the truth tongues won’t present to
voice
To rid ourselves of forced choices
To leave to the dust, the shelves for
home
To realize that happiness can be
found even when alone
That cliché become tricks, if
everyone obeys
And we all become angels and demons
with mere words off a phrase
Values seem to head into battles
unharmed
In a world mired in an arms race
People killing people
Chambers made of gas
Colors making class
Prejudice makes poison
Poison is a drink made for
concentration camps
Remember that place, kids are dumped
during the day to learn
Where boys become men, to be
decorated in gowns and be given paper with stamps
People needing people
Conscience pricking needle
A world stuck in reverse
Sees fashion in a horse posing behind
a cart
And nothing wrong in selfies for eyes
troubled by cataract
An eye for an eye makes the world
blind
By giving your heart to someone,
there’s a chance you might lose your mind
Don’t ask a soul stuck in rewind to
move forward
Don’t ever ask a saint for the keys
to his cupboard…
AKEEM ADETAYO OYALOWO
July 22, 2015
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WHEN I DIE
When I die,
I plan to go in style.
With flowing ink trailing my path,
Illuminating the road behind
Engraving my footsteps in the heart of mother earth,
Magnifying each insignificant stride
That accelerated me down this graceful grave,
When I die
When I die,
I plan to make it loud.
When I fall prey to the jaw of death,
The greatest strength evident only in defeat
Strength in the acceptance of the words of the Word
For all men shall taste death.
I shall taste death
but with my name imprinted on the sands of time
To be dispersed to every corner of the world on wings of word
When I die.
When I die ,
I plan to go with words.
To keep me company in the dark corners of my grave
When I lay still, dead and inactive
Beneath dusts,
Beneath me the dust of man’s ineptitude.
When I die I hope to be succeeded by words
My remnants inherited by words
Forever carrying on my legacy screaming the truth
Until words put an end to the world
When I die
When I die,
I plan to mock death.
Cause When I die there would be wailings,
And there would disdain.
My ink would scream and my words would paint,
Enemies would rejoice,
And haters would mock,
Still a few would weep,
And some would revere the very essence that was me,
But who would be there to weep for death
When death sweeps Death off his feet.
When i die
I plan to mock death
When I die unlike death
I plan to do it in style
AJIJOLA HABEEB
BODUNRIN
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FORGIVE
ME
Back into your arms again
Renewed plain and sane
Excited to hear of you
To be home once more
And ready to drink from your cup of affection.
I have missed your food
For you really cook nice and good.
The imagery of your boiling pot
And the aroma of words that descend into my lung
Tells me you can never be wrong.
Pardon me that I have lost my muse.
Before these bones begin to break
And take kwashior shapes
I seek to be nourished again
To accept to be drenched
In words of resounding metaphors.
That simile smile you possess
And the cautious cautiousness you instill
To ensure words never go wayward
Thoughts never became thoughtless
And speeches never became rebellious.
All these that I have missed
And I hope to get them fixed.
When was it last
I heard the sage
Right there on the stage?
When last was it
I heard couplets
Gave birth to rhymes of triplets?
Forgive me
For having learnt to build words
But all these days I have
Been unable to make a verse of them.
#poetry
Ayinla Muyideen Adeleke
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I MADE IT.
I made it to the top of the hill.
To the head of the class
And breasted the finish line
Clocked in by the electronic timer.
I became President
Got the Mrs.
But sadly lost the plot
Getting bogged down in the thick of thin things
I made it to the top of Everest
The Sherpa Norgay was first
But I am Hilary from the First world.
He was only my guide.
I won the rat race
Though not being a rat, what does that say about me.
I went beyond first base, though I stopped short of Coventry
If you get my meaning.
I made it to the source of the river
and all the papers said i discovered it.
Though to tell the truth it had always been there.
The people always knew where it was.
But Res Ipsa Loquitor- the documents speak.
I made it to the top of the hill
Never mind the process of licks,genuflections and withdrawals.
But why must we assume that the process was flawed?
Why not play blind, dumb and immobile?
See nothing.
Hear nothing.
Do nothing.
The movie did well and was funny.
What about Clinton's don't ask, don't tell?
What about John Wayne's, a mans got to do what a mans got to
do?
What about Machiavelli and all the other Princes of
expediency?
And what is this?
Celebration.
Vituperation.
Examination.
Is it not enough that I made it?
That I got it made?
That I am made?
This is not Hamlets to be or not to be.
This is Polonius- be true to yourself
then you cannot be false in your testimony.
Your statement of making or unmaking
Masking or unmasking.
ANDREW
WHYTE
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GRAY MALKIN
Gray
Malkin
Squealing
forth fear
At
the dead of the night
You
paint the sky gray and induce gathering clouds
You
brush the sky with pigment
The
colour of fright
Handing
out dread
Free
like the air
Free
like the wind under your wings in your flight
This
night still came to create hubris for you
You
and your crew
Sisters
of cave
Clawing
around on toes without shoes
Freaky
show
The
arrogance of you
Queens
of no light
Hunters
of fortune
In
the mid of the night
Dreaded
by ones living for the Sun
Fearful
of your battle even with a gun
Quintessential
widows
Wishing
for no wizards
Loving
your status from your roots back at Endor
Wishing
for no womb if only candour it yields
Wearing
familiars
The
cloak of conceit
Gray
Malkin this time
Paddock
anon
Hansel
without Gretel
My
sword drips of red
See
what you made me do
Now
I can’t stop myself.
CHEMEKA DEUS
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WORDS
COME TO ME
Words come to me like serpent to Eve
Whispers in my ears to derail like Eve
Tells me I am a god
That the powers of creation lies in me
That I can make the future’s future
Woos me to touch sacred things
Vows I can clothe the firmaments
O if I had known
That words are ephemeral
Disappears like smoke
Weak like a candle in the wind
O if I had known
That words are sluts
Perches on everyone’s muse
Loyal to none subject to change
O how I enjoyed your whispers in the night
The bliss you bring to my heart
The ethereal joy you put on my face
O how I miss your strength
Give you the whole world
To stand by my side always.
Cause you made me.
CHISOM
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THE CASSANDRA
ENCOUNTER
There was a tree
With seven branches,
Six leaves,
And a fruit.
I heard a voice
Saying;
"Eat!
Taste of death and live."
I saw her,
Naked
On a horse back.
She had crossed the rivers,
The four rivers.
She bade me come,
She said:
"Come with me, come to the waters."
Her body
A temple,
A tomb;
Bury me.
The serpent
Encircled the altar,
Sweet death
Laid buried in the comb.
Her breast
Two chalices;
Philosophy
And religion.
Her mouth
An open urn.
She said:
"Drink!
Drink of my founts,
The fountains of youth and wits.
There was blood
Spilled on the altar,
Tradition laid sacrificed,
Murdered by the blades
Of novelties.
She said
A great swarm of bees
Would arise
And locusts will come
For their harvests.
It was midnight,
But I saw the sun.
In its eyes
The half-pig-half-man.
She said
It was the darkest hour
Of Earth's long night,
And that the creatures
Of the most watchful
Will wake soon from hideous dreams.
Alone
Now is sit,
Like a flask
On a brazen tripod.
I have put out
The slender flame
That lit up my solitude.
I have moistened
The hem of my garment
And my foot;
That when the reaper comes
Sickle wielding
Like a blood drunk Samurai,
I like a grain
Shall be whole.
SOONEST
NATHANIEL
