DUTY I After Layli Long Soldier As werecline trudgethrough dawn through dusk through timewe conjure we calibrate we cartograph we carveto probe to unmask to propitiate to justify to unleashthe despair the despair the despair the despairwe invoke we shrink we skininto bodies as souvenirsferried to places Read more…
I taste the world a gore-stricken soul, feebling in the things that clang relief…
i start this poem with what I believe
could quietus the grieving dust, since it is an abomination to call me a poet…
Ode To The Man Who Leaves Before The Wake Of The Sun & Emerges At The Sleep Of the Sun After Reading Gbenga Adeoba Praise to the man who held mein the moments of my first cry—the gentle pull of tender lips shrills. The man with pocket-full of night tales& Read more…
My Feverish Pen was wallowing in its misery,small enough to subdue its melancholy,bright enough to throw into reliefthe dark plastic that cluttered it. i heard that much rage was crawlingtogether with its flooded ink trying to fetch fresh ink and wet its tip that yearns to bleed words of relief. Read more…
Within the stillness of the darkest night,
When all the world is lost in peaceful sleep,…
IMy country is a democratic mantra in imbroglioThat rapes goodness, molests peace,Chastises orderliness, mocks oneness,Glorifies chaos and spills bullets on the vulnerables. IIGreen – White – GreenGreen – the greener pastures we all seek elsewhereWhite – dusk that leaves us stained by theblood of infinity victims. IIIMy country is a Read more…
1. THAT DOUBT Like us in our heart, we know,Not to believe the world,We once believed a long time ago. Like us in our lament,We say more than we can chew,Even when the world looks nice,Not hunting us, we still have that doubt. 2. TRUTH IN A BELIEF Why do Read more…
i scribble in my face, my father_ who found strands of my hair in the teeth of my comb, i remembered when he sewn in the heap in my yard, roses, bougainvilleas, hibiscuses with their sprouts and petals of reds & pinks. but that night, he breathed hope into the Read more…
Description: Poetry Format: PDF Publisher’s Note I am glad, and it is indeed a great privilege to have read this collection of poetry. I can’t be prouder as well to have a part in the success of this book and also in the vivid growth of his bard with the Read more…
The first few months of pregnancy were challenging for me as I became conscious of my new condition…
my cycle tube was hurt, i had to go the old style.long kilometres, steady, my foot finally said hito the farm. the sun became angry as soon as my machete kissfew weeds, the season commencing, again. suddenly, the sunny sky spoke in tongues asthe firmament strike a chord, it was Read more…
The hand of the sun was not heavy enoughTo light the pack of dreams I shelteredIn the manor of my mind.I scribble on some leavesWhat I want tomorrow to tellOf me. Yesterday is late, it diedAt the zero-zero hours, yet,I still burn unperturbedA candle, surviving in the wind.
O Amon,I desire you to smile for meCrouching in my arm like an eggIn a nest, cackling to my faceWhile the sun passes byTo roost. My garden is barrenThe first I cultured didn’t blossomBad soil, no manure, and light. & you, but I fearIf another farmer has come earlier.Am jealous Read more…
the mirrors on the wall didn’t tell us who were
but who we ought to be
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I hope I write out Soyinka’s eyes too
Since I can’t operate his heart.
Why I Write… There were dark momentsDarker than molten obsidianThat darkens the seasonsAnd made me act dark Solace couldn’t offer solacePeace had a hurricane in itJoy was feigned on dysphoriaAnd I hoped beyond Hope So I bare my soul to my penAnd the pitiful thing criedAnd did bleed all on my scrollThat pains Read more…
Cocktail finish in a hurryI was still famished.Dinner simple yet not set.Broiled novels; old literature husk.Sour ink; notes pasta.With a glass of dictionaryTo step down. I took a chair, at the hornOf my dining (writing) tableTo dine, punning with words.I forgot to toast the crumbWith figure of speech toaster.Supper wasn’t Read more…
…I was the Handsomest Apollo, dear Artemis would always
say, “oh god of beauty”…
When erosion comes the way
The weak soil, it swims away
The irony of life bang them till they cum
But for us, we make them bum…
A diagrammatic piece of poetry