FEED ME – (poem of the month)
My soul is hungry
And for this i long:
Your passion hot and spicy,
Like Ghana shito on my Nigerian tongue.
Your love is a staple dish,
Grant this famished man a dying wish.
Let me unfoil your fears like husks of
Delicious dorkunu,
And water Down your doubts with gulps
Of sweet otinshinu.
Woman you taste like ewe poetry,
Each verse served with tomato gravy;
Your recipe is a soothing therapy,
Sate my hunger, heal my malady.
Oh feed me.
Feed me with your grace,
Grant me in your heart an eternal place,
And robust my lean spirit shall be.
Feed me with faith,
A hope for the beggar at the beautiful gate,
Give me peace;
A moment with you, a thousand years of bliss.
Feed me with your love,
That manna falling from above.
Give me your all for I am empty,
Let me eat on the table made by my enemy.
Please feed me,
Like the gentle heaven feeds roaring sea.
Grant me the honour, be my wife;
I crave for you, my bread of life.
INCREASE NATHANIEL
My soul is hungry
And for this i long:
Your passion hot and spicy,
Like Ghana shito on my Nigerian tongue.
Your love is a staple dish,
Grant this famished man a dying wish.
Let me unfoil your fears like husks of
Delicious dorkunu,
And water Down your doubts with gulps
Of sweet otinshinu.
Woman you taste like ewe poetry,
Each verse served with tomato gravy;
Your recipe is a soothing therapy,
Sate my hunger, heal my malady.
Oh feed me.
Feed me with your grace,
Grant me in your heart an eternal place,
And robust my lean spirit shall be.
Feed me with faith,
A hope for the beggar at the beautiful gate,
Give me peace;
A moment with you, a thousand years of bliss.
Feed me with your love,
That manna falling from above.
Give me your all for I am empty,
Let me eat on the table made by my enemy.
Please feed me,
Like the gentle heaven feeds roaring sea.
Grant me the honour, be my wife;
I crave for you, my bread of life.
INCREASE NATHANIEL
/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
FOOD
FOR THOUGHT
Down
the aisle she waltz, fluttering,
Radiant
and ageless in white, dazzling.
Cast
in beauty and innocence suffused,
And
a face brimming brilliantly with smiles
That
sets the sun into a jealous scorn,
The
jewel of the town glided in grace
With the confidence of a gurgling brook
Displaying the knowledge of the path.
Towards the priest and the grandiose altar
Her charm ravaged like a joyful plague.
Prayers
of heartfelt concern surged
From
the congregation seated at the pews
Billowing in pity as she walked up the path
Worn out by the sole of her Cinderella shoes;
“That she yanks off the white, blemished pale
By the passing hands of time and frequent
trips,
Never again to walk the aisle except for
communion.”
The priest welcomed with a familiar smile
And a kindred heart with the congregation.
Reception
called and merriment rolled in.
Beer,
like a river on the loose, flowed.
Wine,
with it legendary subtle slyness
And gladdening taste crept down,
Delighting the tongue and belly on its
cascading course.
Delicacies with its fleets of flavour and
aroma
Cajoled the nostrils and palates into
forgetfulness.
The mind, lost and robbed of pious reasons,
The tongue, lost in the sense of purpose,
Both drowned in the pool of beer and wine.
A belch is uttered in a lame attempt at
redemption,
Prayers
condemned beneath the weight of the delicacies.
They
await another time, and another chance,
When
their mouths would be called to service
ADETOBA
//////////////////////////////////////////////////
WANTING
DESIRE
All
my life, I wanted desire
Longed
for it; lunged for it
Like
Marys bleeding heart
Pascal’s
God shaped vacuum
The
tree comprising the Kingdom
Creating
a haven for the birds of the air
The
Kingdom of God as a seed
Knowing
that in the coming is life
The
coming of desire which itself is a synonym
For
the longing that brings transgression
Let
no one blame God for their temptations
God
has no shadow
No
turning; no Parallage
He
is constant as the star that He made
His
longing is of a different colour
It
does not draw off to sin, lust or love
It
loves the joy of our espousal
Noting
that time was when we followed
Him
to the desert
Becoming
an anthromorph
Expressing
His love, longing, desire
In
words less than divine.
Coming
full circle to us
Learning,
earning, yearning
Longing,
desiring, hoping
Wanting,
needing, expecting
Following
Maslow or Freud
Adler
or Jung
Themselves
metaphors seeking explanation
In
worlds of their own construct
Giving
vent rather to a world without God
Minus
the primal urge that is longing
Longing
after divinity
Divine
explanation
Divine
expiation
An
experimental, experimenting world
Where
the final marking in red is spelt
In
Qoheleths words, vanity; all vanity.
Far
off from the innocent longing for a woman
The
completing, bone connecting woman
For
a man, the bone into body man
The
longing for fulfilments and achievements
Sanctioned
and sanctified; satisfying!
Ending
with wanting desire
Which
is a tree of life
Providing
cover for the nations
Much
like poetry of a certain kind.
ANDREW WHYTE
//////////////////////////////////////
LONGING
I
want you
I
need you
I
crave for you
I
mustn’t
I
shouldn’t
I
really shouldn’t
It
will show with time
An
inch there, a centimeter there
Then
comes the guilt
Not
quite like the psychotic disorders of the run-way girls
That
drives them to anorexic, bulimic frenzies
Why
must it be so?
How
can something so loved
Be
so bad to have
As
often as I like
It’s
an old wife’s tale
It’s
not grounded on proper science
Or
is it?
It’s
all so confusing
Then…….
CNN
settles it
Or
was it BBC
It
doesn’t matter
I
heard it, I watched in glee
There
it is, Yippee!
I
can desire you
I
can have you
I
should, regularly, they say
To
remove an inch there and a centimeter there
What
is regular?
Once
a day?
Twice
a day?
Once
a week?
It
doesn’t matter
I
will define my own “regular”
I
will have you as regularly as I want
Without
any apology, shame or guilt.
FUNMI EYEOYIBO
///////////////////////////////
WHEN I GROW OLD AND FEEBLE
And
my limbs are weak
And
my hair grey
With
wrinkles around my neck
And
my thoughts finally in search of a place to rest
My
mind has known not an iota of rest since
Since
the first time I came to terms with the reality of death
Every
wink of my eye a pointer
Pointer
to the direction
Always
some place above the ground
Up
and up went my eyes
Never
for once looking to the ground
I
remember once in my youth
When
the woman who happened to be my vessel to this earthly plane
Called
upon me to watch my pride
It
not only stunned me
but
sparked off a surge of reality
What
pride could she be talking about
That
I will only lie on rugs or mattress
Not
to caress my ego
For
I know the world would say so
But
for the reality of pains
That
follows such humility
Call
it what you may
May
I not find reasons to change my resolve
For
my resting place must be well above ground
My
longings are forever to those places on high.
ILUPEJU ADEBAYO
///////////////////////////////////
RAVENS MIRACLE
I
opened my heart
Where
lies my brook?
Where
are thou my Raven?
Our
land is in FAMINE
Almost
like that of the Israelites
I
cried with millions
Wept
for an ailing nation
Tubers
of yam makes us yawn
Tomatoes
puts us all in comatose
Bag
of rice in crises
Garri
soaking becomes a trend
I
longed
I
craved
For
my Ravens miracle
I
opened my heart again
Where
lies my brook?
Where
are thou my Raven
Raven
miracle I seek
Elijah
was treated to a royalty by Raven
Fetching
him balance diet daily even in famine
He
then drinks in a special brooks
Why
not me God!!! I want my Raven miracle
Raven!!!
Elijahs Raven
Raven
!!! My own Raven
The
creature with a shiny black feathers
Weird,
mythical ...scary yet emit miracle
Smart,
evil in disguise ... smells dark omen
Yet
fetched Elijah three square meal
Largest
in the crow family of birds
I
opened again but not my heart
This
time it is my mouth of hunger
Where
lies my brook?
Where
are thou my Raven?
Raven
miracle I seek
My
voice became stronger for Him to hear
He
is my shepherd I shall not want
Even
as young lions lack
And
suffers hunger in anger
I
shouted I shall not want
I
receive by faith the word
And
I started chewing
Pretending
to be an Elijah
Behold,
food was on my table
I
found myself devouring chicken in full
On
a table full of varieties of food to maw
But
no one else was eating
They
all looked hungry and fagged out
I
got a disdainful eyeing...
I
heard them hissing profusely
Yes,
it was like that table prepared before David
The
same table God prepared before his enemy
I
got their message
They
weren’t my friends
But
there was more to go round
Why
become selfish ...greedy
I
beckoned to them without uttering a word
They
swamped on me ... on the food
Then,
someone tapped me on a long chair
Those
bed-bug infested chairs ...
Brother
Stephen... why are you snoring?
We
are through with the service
Remember
that fasting continues tomorrow
And
bring along your Prophet offerings
The
Lord be with you
The
white-bearded man bid me bye
My
mouth was still ajar
Finding
expression for my thought
I
opened my mouth again
Where
lies my brook?
Where
are thou my Raven
Ravens
miracle I seek
The
man came back with a stern look
His
white beard stood akimbo
Bro.
Stephen, lets I forget, next time
Please
don’t finish all your chicken oooo
And
stop shouting please...
Your
Raven miracle you’ve eaten
Go
home... for others are still trying to connect
It
dawned on me painfully
Maybe
I shouldn’t have beckoned to them to join me
Maybe...I
would still be devouring the chicken alone
As
I walk pass others on the mountain,
Many
still longing for more from the fountain
Some
still snoring on church mats
Communing
with other bed-bugs and rats
One
man was beckoning with his hands in his sleep
I
ran towards him and held his hand
No,
don’t call others I shouted
He
woke up anyways
And
dealt me a heavy slap
Why
would you wake me up
My
other cheek got adorned with another slap
Just
like a proverbial Jesus Christ
I
was signing a contract with some white men
And
you held my pen and my hand
Again,
my mouth was ajar
Expressionless...
yet thoughtless
My
heels took on me
Though
still longing for my Raven’s miracle
But
no more from Elijah ... for I am Bro. Stephen
Alayande
Stephen T.
21st,
August, 2016
A
Story from the Sunday Service
////////////////////////////////////////////
THAT LAZY BREEZY DAY
Labrador
At
the door
Tapping
insistence into the child
On
the other side
Wooing
expectation
With
a wily tongue sticking out in allurement
And
a whimper
A
yearn for attention
Returned
by a child in diaper
Standing
at the door
On
ringed limbs
Away
from the table
Learning
the trade
Of
walking
And
talking
Mumbling
a response
To
a friend shut out
Insistence
acquired
He
lets out a yell
Rattling
the door to give way
Labrador
lets out a yelp
Tapping
the door to give way
She
walks away from the dish
On
the table
Grabs
the minor in a diaper
And
opens the door
To
the Labrador
And
the
Tiny
Wishing
Honey
brewer
Draped
in black and gold
Irritated
by the wait
To
taste the jam
Packed
with nectar
The
wait
For
a palm and a paw
To
express friendship
In
a hug
And
bam!
It
hit her
For
a waste of a moment
That
vacuum made
In
the space of time
Haaaah!
A
bee’s sense of justice
Weird.
Chukwuemeka. September 8, 2016
//////////////////////////////////////////////////////
I BELIEVE
In the rhythm of every poem
In the meanings embedded in every word
In the string of every bead and euphoria screams
In the crack of voices, the voices of soulful
songs, songs of pain, tears, love and joys
I believe
In the tale found in the stories, relayed with
mastered gestures and dropping jaws
In the strings of sweat and stamping of feet, to
the dance and twist of joints
. . .In response to dried skin to spiritual beats
I believe in strokes, Splash, Splash of pigments
and colours
In the reality and surrealism that capture more
than pictures and tales more than real life
I believe
In the clicks of shutters that preserve memories
we'll forever cherish
In the audacity we wear and the long strides we
take in them
In the serenity and standstillism that comes with it
In the transformation and formation it commands.
I believe in arts. . .in life
MARY ELIYE
///////////////////////////////////////
THE RAINS
When
the first sons of Oruku gathered
Plenty
like when soap is lathered
Many
like the dots on a leopard
The
only thoughts in their heart layered
The
only beats their heart garnered
Is
the time of the rains
Yesterday
ijenmuo spat on Oruku
That
yesterday is now three moons
Yet
no rains
The
sons of Oruku gathered
Faced
ijenmuo and lost their courage
Ijenmuo
is not man, ijenmuo is feared
His
sons’ death came unprepared
Now
Oruku must face his famous insidious temper
Twelve
moons and counting
Oruku
still panting
From
the spit of ijenmuo
Still
longing for the rains
The
hardship of ijenmuos spit
Now
tears secrets free
Blood
flow blood flow
The
sons of Oruku must bow
For
the wrenching retribution of Ijenmuo
If
they must see the rains again.
CHISOM
//////////////////////////////////////////
BUILD MY GALLOWS
The signs
are everywhere
everyone
can see them
except me
because
they are written
all over
me.
I have been weighed
in the balance.
are everywhere
everyone
can see them
except me
because
they are written
all over
me.
I have been weighed
in the balance.
The wanton
scribbles
beautiful blasphemies
with blood
on the wall,
the seer's mind fails him.
He can't interpret,
He can't understand
again,
the language of memory.
scribbles
beautiful blasphemies
with blood
on the wall,
the seer's mind fails him.
He can't interpret,
He can't understand
again,
the language of memory.
He is drunk
with the wine of novelties
served from gourds
made from the skulls
of prophets
before him.
The sons
will do the time
for their father's crime;
their tomorrow
died yesterday.
The light
is gone out,
cursed are they
who are led
by their shadows.
with the wine of novelties
served from gourds
made from the skulls
of prophets
before him.
The sons
will do the time
for their father's crime;
their tomorrow
died yesterday.
The light
is gone out,
cursed are they
who are led
by their shadows.
But I’ll rather be led
by shadows
into
the meadows
where uncertainty
certainly waits.
For
like a Christ
longing to die
to save a world
that craves not to live,
so I long for you.
If only
to touch
the helm
of your garment,
and fall off the tapered-edge
of this flat earth.
They say
love
must be
given time
to ferment,
this wine is ready,
I have served the best first.
So tonight we drink
from the eyes
of the broken man.
Today
I found
a long rope
to hang
myself;
so tomorrow,
I only want you
to build my gallows.
There is a city
in the eye of the needle
only the poor
like myself
can go in.
Watch
how I tread,
through the desert,
of course,
without a Carmel.
in the eye of the needle
only the poor
like myself
can go in.
Watch
how I tread,
through the desert,
of course,
without a Carmel.
SOONEST
