 |
| OLOLADE RHEA |
PAST DRIVEL - Poem of the month
I’m
driven by hurt, the hurt of the past
that
silenced my mothers into for bitter for worse.
I’m driven
by the sounds from the walls that archived their cries
while they labored
to make meals even in active labor.
I’m driven
by anger, anger for the place reserved for her in the assembly of faith;
Behind! and
that’s why I raise my voice.
I’m driven
by energy, the energy that separates envy from jealousy
And
compliments not complaints.
I’m driven
by love, the love for my form,
for the
sinful beauty I’m regarded as.
I’m driven
by power, the power in femininity,
The art of
its simplicity and complexity.
I’m driven
by hunger, hunger for fame and wealth
And hatred,
hatred for drivel, that upholds phony morals,
which should
never see the light of another century.
I’m driven
by my yearning, for the God and for my Utopia.
Ololade Rhea
//////////////////////////////
VILLANELLE: I FEEL MYSELF WAKING UP
AGAIN
Goodness me,
I feel myself waking up again
invading
gray corners crammed with rotten mysteries,
from the
dreadful joys that almost made me go insane;
Like a swarm
of fiery fireflies, a wild tempest whizzed into my lane
without a
badge, forcefully knocking out mouldy memories.
Goodness me,
I feel myself waking up again;
It turned
out that I needed an unusual crusade within my domain,
a rigid
steer through the year of concurrent discoveries
from the
dreadful joys that almost made me go insane.
When they hurl
you, they don't just drop you halfway like Cain,
the journey
extends to the end of the road through tough theories;
Goodness me,
I feel myself waking up again
after such
strange combats. Perhaps, spirits that spirited my den
to glow as
bright as a sunflower – Rescuing my diaries
from the
dreadful joys that almost made me go insane.
Today, I'm
exploring the unknown with a dogged faith. Amen!
Singing
exotic melodies, psalms of recoveries;
Goodness me,
I feel myself waking up again
from the
dreadful joys that almost made me go insane.
OLUWATOSIN OKUPA
////////////////////////////////////////////////////
We Are Driven
A cycle
completed
The end that
heralds a new beginning
Another
opportunity to reflect in silence,
To feel the
pulse beat of the universe
As the Gong
adds another star
The red cap
is strewn with feathers
A journey of
life
Emotions reflected
as experiences are given form
Future plans
made at the beginning
Were driven
west
By a crowned
invisible warrior of its kind
As its wild
fire rages
Bringing its
music and dance
From its
ashes a new way of living
Evolution
continues
For we are driven
by
Hope,
passion and love
Ifeanyi Okwosha
///////////////////////////////////////////////
THE SPEAKER
Taking the
podium again,
I deploy my
gusto.
Pacing back
and forth the brightly lit stage,
I, redefine
vigor.
Seamlessly
flowing from my breath,
are words
that defy my heart's state
Yet I speak.
With a
charisma I have so mastered.
Wearing a
lie suit,
I perform,
over and again.
All the
world is my stage
And I, a
showman...
Once in in
my own company.
I am many
dark moods;
Unjoyed, sore and subdued.
The bruise
on my conscience, bleeding.
The torment
from my soul raging.
I snooze.
At dawn, the
cock crows,
My heart
quavers. Differently.
Today, I
will not be bought,
Because his
little image constantly hunts my mind.
I am
determined.
I will tell
my truth.
Again, I
take the podium,
but without
falsehood.
I stutter.
My words are half baked,
but they
resonate with my heart.
I see a
white dove set free from his age long cage,
Not knowing
how to fly again, but trying.
Yesterday at
the podium, I stuttered.
Today at the
podium I spoke fearfully.
Tomorrow at
the podium, I would neither fear nor stutter, because,
That bird is
me.
I will speak
and live my truth.
Therein lies
true liberty.
In this, I
am driven.
Vivian Chisom.
/////////////////////////////////////////////////////
Driven
Driven.
Driven by the tides of life. Driven by
the days I
shield myself from the sun with
tattered
pieces of bandana & nights my pillow is
substituted
with mama's arms. Driven by my
therapist's
addiction to alprazolam. Driven
by father's
praying palms. Driven by mother's
tears &
sleepless nights. Driven by the
times I
plant a boll of torment in her garden. Driven
by love.
Driven by sacrifice. Driven by my friend's
ability to
swim while I drown. Driven by my
ex-girlfriend's
lover's Benz. Driven by all the promises
I made.
Driven by Plath. Driven by patience. Driven by
the girl who
waited so long for me in the darkness. Driven by
Plath.
Driven by the tears of yesteryear. Driven by the gas that fills
the air when
mother cuts onions. Driven by the days of yore. Driven
by Plath
hoping this poem is not too confessional. Driven. Driven. Driven.
Olaitan Humble
//////////////////////////////////////////////////////
DRIVEN
permit me to
mention your name
to the wind, let it carry my voice to the
farthest end
of the earth.
if so that
happens
everything and everyone shall have your name
be labell'd
upon
the trees
shall make their babies in your name;
gently, they shall fall upon the face of the earth
as the breeze blows
the rivers shall everyday spell your name in ripples; Ọ̀ṣun
has never been so blessed
and all --
all shall carry your name on a gold plate
Yasmin,
on some
morn, your love seems to me as a
dove -- calming the tempest from the night before
on some
night, your love seems to me as the
soft tune escaping your nesh touch from the piano
board
i am by your
love driven:
let's dance to the rhythm of the cackling fire tonight
let my dark
blood flow
into your red blood
Our
ancestors shall tonight awaken from the potence of the rare bloods that unite
as one
this incense
shall burn
as long as He holds the sky firm
'cos it's
filled with the scent of the geason lover.
Tahirah M. Ogunsola
////////////////////////////////////////////////////
DRIVEN: NOT ENOUGH
Tell me I’ve
not done enough
If I’ve not
done enough
With your
tongue painting where
I stand
doing “not enough”
Like a mural
with unfinished edges.
Tell me I’ve
not done
Enough
So next time
I come in a shape
Speaking
more about perfection.
With your
words, your love,
Inspire me
to do more
Than “not
enough”
With your
love, your care,
Drive me
beyond what man
Calls
boundaries.
Kolade
Olawale Kabir Àdèlé
//////////////////////////////////////////////
THE TRIP!
Sitting here
blank and dry
I am doing a
drive through
On the back
of my mind
Plain Crazy
and arid lazy
Many
questions on this stroll
Fear is
taking her toll
Courage lost
at the polls
Stuck in
this dark and dreary hole
I paid my
due
And got soaked
by the morning dew
Kneeling in
the pews
Lost and
confused
Prayers and
questions
That's all I
have
A heartful
of petitions!
And soul
left to starve
I will
pray
And I will
stay
Calm in the
storm
Keeping my
feet warm
I want to
dance
Yet my mind
is numb
From the
years of wrong doing
Or so I
think
But today
and beyond
I stand by
this fiery pond
Like a
fellow once driven
Mad then
gone Crazy
Yet grateful
and delighted.
That I took
the drive!
On the back
of my mind
For today
and Forever!
Immanuel Unekwuojo Ogu
/////////////////////////////////////////
The Wheel (Readiness to Sail)
I plead with
you to see a mode of life in our midst,
a mode of
life stunted and distorted by your mode of thoughts
Recognize us
as human beings like you do to your children
and plant
our seeds of hope by the riverside,
I beseech
Having rode
on a brown-skinny bulbous eye donkey down to the Aso Rock
only to calmly
express our dire wants,
we ended up
riding your punch after you roughshod
over the
brutalities and my worries wonder why exactly
our yabba
dabba doo has now become booed by the ones who wooed us to vote
them in
Children of
alpha-beta are off from school
as our no
longer earth dwelling youths (but now dwellers in our hearts)
gushed
innocent blood like the mystical free flow of
words from
Moschitta
Their faces
dodge our stumbled cries and their ears,
deaf to our
humble calls
The ones you
called woozy and lazy
are now
driven to disclaim that name and struggle
for a
positive change
If the nose
assures us of its wickedness not to smell the wicked;
our brains
are not dead to think aright,
likewise our
hands, not stiff
to write
I plead with
you to see a mode of life in our midst,
a mode of
life stunted and distorted by your mode of thoughts
Recognize us
as human beings like you want to be done to your children
and plant
our seeds of hope by the riverside,
I beseech
“The Air.
Jr.Drexmelody”
Adegboyega Iyanuoluwa
///////////////////////////////////////////////////////
DRIVEN:
I am driven
to
distraction
Sadly driven
and not led
More cowherd
than
shepherd
Every day
has sufficient evil
And that is
one stricture that
has not
failed.
One day one
trouble.
No wonder
I am
distracted;
we are
distracted.
We are
distracted by being driven
to that
place in a vehicle of overpromisers who underdeliver; mediocrities without any
aspiration to excellence.
Falling
short of any discernible standards
Distracted
by civil servants who
act as
uncivil masters and public servants with a private plotline;
A populace
without
a logical
centre and thus unable
to handle
nuance and ambiguity.
Distracted
by the fact that all
our lessons
from the history we
no longer
study in school, amounts to this- that we will not learn from the good
stories of others, but will continue to replicate our bad stories, whilst
referencing and enjoying Singapore and Dubai
and Vietnam
and Botswana.
By a
generation that aspires to leadership not on the back of superior knowledge,
plans and policies, but by riding the hobby horse of youth empowerment
and verbal
vociferousness without commensurate policy positions
and plans;
confessing ignorance
of a
constitution that they purport to want to change.
Driven to
hair pulling frustration,
if I had any
to pull out;
Distracted
to discombobulation;
Triggered to
explosiveness-
By people
who are rude, weak, bullies, timid and arrogant.
People who
hold on to
our national
patrimony and matrimony and keep the national cake to their 1 percent stake and
the devil take the hindmost!
Driven in
the final analysis to look out for Leaders who are strong, kind, bold,
thoughtful, humble, proud
to serve and
humourous without being foolish.
Channeling
my inner Jim Rohn
to drive me
on this Odyssian quest.
Andrew Whyte
/////////////////////////////////////
Song of a Father
Bri nothing
drives a father
Than the
thoughts of you,
Your
tickling chuckles
The four
teeth that make you more
Loveable
than not.
Bri
Chisom
