Flexslider
August 2017
Unknowingly.
(SOUL POET)
A glance in
Her eye emits warmth.
Her gentle smile
Awakes my zzz heart.
Her glowing lips,
Her leaping buttocks.....
All emitted passions.
Unknowingly,
You've fallen for me.
_niyeric9518
When woman falls for a man, she throws him every banner to read. Cowardly, she has less gait to confess her feeling.*
Watch out!!!!
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Unknowingly.
(SOUL POET)
A glance in
Her eye emits warmth.
Her gentle smile
Awakes my zzz heart.
Her glowing lips,
Her leaping buttocks.....
All emitted passions.
Unknowingly,
You've fallen for me.
_niyeric9518
When woman falls for a man, she throws him every banner to read. Cowardly, she has less gait to confess her feeling.*
Watch out!!!!
Click to follow us on Facebook
Leave us a message through the contact form if you are interested
Jagunlabi
During the reign of Olugbon
I made three shawls
In the time of Aresa
I made six shawls
In the reign of Aresa,
I bought velvet and Sanyan the king of all clothes
Here comes the ominous reign of Jagunlabi
The sage’s word we had neglected
We sold chickens and purchased Guinea-fowls
The Bugler in Agbada offered to help fix our doors
And we were never suspicious, shame!!!
Who puts a cat in charge of chickens?
My Father’s father bought six shawls in Aresa’s days
A shilling for one in Jagunlabi teary times I have not
Igunugun circles our circles searching for carcass of our dead
The village maidens now sing dirges behind the curtains
For their hunger sunken buttocks will not wiggle to Ayangalu’s drum
Nor will their once sumptuous breast be a delight in the gathering of men
Tell Jagunlabi in his rocky castle
He who stoops to hunt rabbit holes forgets that his own rare is exposed
Tell his elected chief eagles, who are incapable of snatching a chick
The thumbs that thumbed you power, will unseat you from the high places
FOOTNOTES
Olugbon and Aresa- Yoruba kings with prosperous reign
Jagunlabi- A tyrant king
Sanyan- A traditional Yoruba cloth worn on special occasion
Igunugun- Vulture
Amudipe Opeyemi Marcus
Leave a message through the contact form if you are interested
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Watch out!!!
Jagunlabi
During the reign of Olugbon
I made three shawls
In the time of Aresa
I made six shawls
In the reign of Aresa,
I bought velvet and Sanyan the king of all clothes
Here comes the ominous reign of Jagunlabi
The sage’s word we had neglected
We sold chickens and purchased Guinea-fowls
The Bugler in Agbada offered to help fix our doors
And we were never suspicious, shame!!!
Who puts a cat in charge of chickens?
My Father’s father bought six shawls in Aresa’s days
A shilling for one in Jagunlabi teary times I have not
Igunugun circles our circles searching for carcass of our dead
The village maidens now sing dirges behind the curtains
For their hunger sunken buttocks will not wiggle to Ayangalu’s drum
Nor will their once sumptuous breast be a delight in the gathering of men
Tell Jagunlabi in his rocky castle
He who stoops to hunt rabbit holes forgets that his own rare is exposed
Tell his elected chief eagles, who are incapable of snatching a chick
The thumbs that thumbed you power, will unseat you from the high places
FOOTNOTES
Olugbon and Aresa- Yoruba kings with prosperous reign
Jagunlabi- A tyrant king
Sanyan- A traditional Yoruba cloth worn on special occasion
Igunugun- Vulture
Amudipe Opeyemi Marcus
Leave a message through the contact form if you are interested
Click to follow us on Facebook
Watch out!!!
Sister Mary's Necklace
Sister Mary's necklace
.
I have been caught by her beautiful beauty
Like a fish in the neck
My heart becomes a mortar and her eyes
A pistol whenever I gaze around her neck.
Sister Mary's necklace
Whose ornament of trinket captured my timid eyes
Causing my lips to make soundless sighs of grasping twice
Whose ornament rolls in a valley subdued between two mountains
Or perhaps towers of grace
.
Forgive me father, for I put too much
Words on
Maybe I read too much of the songs of Solomon
Only heavens knows the treasures that lies in the
secret Place beneath her habit
Her smikes I love, plus your caring habit
Your gentle gaze caused my mind to race
Into an unknown land I can not trace
Causing hands movement into the darkest of places
Even in the presence of solemn praises
.
Oh sister Mary, how can I describe your tender embrace?
Warmer than a cathigan made with fur
But too rapid like the space in between my pace
Your celestical dove on the chest I first admire
When I was four and all I remember was that
My heart became dim and somehow blur
It caused my the meshing of our souls in circles
.
Sister Mary
Who makes me scream "holy Mary mother of our savior"
For the thought of her savors my tender sins
For her body I see, even I my dreams
For here I am at the confessional,
Forgive me father for it has been years since my last confession
.
Balogun David Tolulope+ anonymously anonymous {drunk poet}
©️2017
GET BOOK NOW
LEAVE A MESSAGE OF INTEREST THROUGH THE CONTACT FORM
PAGES: 86
GENRE: LITERARY CRITICISM
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Books Available
Sister Mary's Necklace
Sister Mary's necklace
.
I have been caught by her beautiful beauty
Like a fish in the neck
My heart becomes a mortar and her eyes
A pistol whenever I gaze around her neck.
Sister Mary's necklace
Whose ornament of trinket captured my timid eyes
Causing my lips to make soundless sighs of grasping twice
Whose ornament rolls in a valley subdued between two mountains
Or perhaps towers of grace
.
Forgive me father, for I put too much
Words on
Maybe I read too much of the songs of Solomon
Only heavens knows the treasures that lies in the
secret Place beneath her habit
Her smikes I love, plus your caring habit
Your gentle gaze caused my mind to race
Into an unknown land I can not trace
Causing hands movement into the darkest of places
Even in the presence of solemn praises
.
Oh sister Mary, how can I describe your tender embrace?
Warmer than a cathigan made with fur
But too rapid like the space in between my pace
Your celestical dove on the chest I first admire
When I was four and all I remember was that
My heart became dim and somehow blur
It caused my the meshing of our souls in circles
.
Sister Mary
Who makes me scream "holy Mary mother of our savior"
For the thought of her savors my tender sins
For her body I see, even I my dreams
For here I am at the confessional,
Forgive me father for it has been years since my last confession
.
Balogun David Tolulope+ anonymously anonymous {drunk poet}
©️2017
GET BOOK NOW
LEAVE A MESSAGE OF INTEREST THROUGH THE CONTACT FORM
PAGES: 86
GENRE: LITERARY CRITICISM
follow us on Facebook by clicking this text
Books Available
HELEN OF TROY
©
{Soul Poet}
Helen,
The bringer of a thousand ships
The archer of trojan war
Woman of light and shade.
At Sparta, I was not horny,
I was indifferent to naked fairest.
The sun was not set,
Far away, I must sail.
Tell Aphrodite,
Helen is Menelaus Queen.
Noah ark, I sailed,
Stand back, the Troy doom.
Her innocent eyes, a greenlight.
Her gentle lap, a trojan horse.
Her reddish breast, Paris wine.
Helen Lusting,
Treacherous Greek Lords
Are Watching watchmen.
Helen, seductive tempest.
Achilles in afterlife, Paris of Troy,
Delphobus, Theseus, Menelaus...
All drank from her goblet.
Tell all,
Sparta is not Harbor,
Far away I must sail
Like a soaring Eagle.
_niyeric9518
At Sparta.... ordeal with treacherous Greek Lords, and with Helen of Troy, a woman of tear and sorrow.
HELEN OF TROY
©
{Soul Poet}
Helen,
The bringer of a thousand ships
The archer of trojan war
Woman of light and shade.
At Sparta, I was not horny,
I was indifferent to naked fairest.
The sun was not set,
Far away, I must sail.
Tell Aphrodite,
Helen is Menelaus Queen.
Noah ark, I sailed,
Stand back, the Troy doom.
Her innocent eyes, a greenlight.
Her gentle lap, a trojan horse.
Her reddish breast, Paris wine.
Helen Lusting,
Treacherous Greek Lords
Are Watching watchmen.
Helen, seductive tempest.
Achilles in afterlife, Paris of Troy,
Delphobus, Theseus, Menelaus...
All drank from her goblet.
Tell all,
Sparta is not Harbor,
Far away I must sail
Like a soaring Eagle.
_niyeric9518
At Sparta.... ordeal with treacherous Greek Lords, and with Helen of Troy, a woman of tear and sorrow.
I have Seen the Future
I have seen the future
drawn from visions of memory
splattered across the canvas of history
somewhere between yesterday
and tomorrow, we had an epiphany
I have seen the future, I say
where our senses are no longer assailed
by cicatrixed monstrosities
assaulting our sensibilities
I have seen the future
the beautiful ones have been born,
of the tyranny of our masters we have been shorn
and the land inherited by the pure
I have seen the future
every dreariness and gray
has been driven away
and our horizon is hued
in magenta, gold and blue
I have seen the future
guinea corn and goat
need not fear the rain
the avalanche of terror's reign
has become obscure
I have seen the future
where the line between stranger
and kin has become blurred
and water is just as thick as blood
Tell me now, doesn't it look good.
©Wunderkind
I have Seen the Future
I have seen the future
drawn from visions of memory
splattered across the canvas of history
somewhere between yesterday
and tomorrow, we had an epiphany
I have seen the future, I say
where our senses are no longer assailed
by cicatrixed monstrosities
assaulting our sensibilities
I have seen the future
the beautiful ones have been born,
of the tyranny of our masters we have been shorn
and the land inherited by the pure
I have seen the future
every dreariness and gray
has been driven away
and our horizon is hued
in magenta, gold and blue
I have seen the future
guinea corn and goat
need not fear the rain
the avalanche of terror's reign
has become obscure
I have seen the future
where the line between stranger
and kin has become blurred
and water is just as thick as blood
Tell me now, doesn't it look good.
©Wunderkind
The Mistakes of Our Heroes Past
Arise, O ye unworthy sons
Conceived in the belly of an harmless zebra
Raised by fathers of gutless mind
Who dug our Graves with golds
Gotten from their unquenching cravings for dusted
Fantasy of our shoveled dreams
.
They battled with the ones in white skin
"heroes" they were called, cause they fought
In one anchor
The sang of songs from the lips like birds
Defending their territory, lyriced freedom.
.
But the corpse of shame litters our gaze
The injured hearts with withered hope of greatness
Bleed our progress
So we weep heavily in saddened outburst
Cause we failed and our blood has turned black
For we "unworthy sons" they begot
.
The black bird of woes cries in a desolate
Place
For even the bones mourn us for their odds
We are!
Of what now be their heroic deeds?
Of what scores now be their victory?
For we search apprecia-fun,
When our little knowledge is torn.
.
©️ Balogun David Tolulope
{drunk poet}
2017
The Mistakes of Our Heroes Past
Arise, O ye unworthy sons
Conceived in the belly of an harmless zebra
Raised by fathers of gutless mind
Who dug our Graves with golds
Gotten from their unquenching cravings for dusted
Fantasy of our shoveled dreams
.
They battled with the ones in white skin
"heroes" they were called, cause they fought
In one anchor
The sang of songs from the lips like birds
Defending their territory, lyriced freedom.
.
But the corpse of shame litters our gaze
The injured hearts with withered hope of greatness
Bleed our progress
So we weep heavily in saddened outburst
Cause we failed and our blood has turned black
For we "unworthy sons" they begot
.
The black bird of woes cries in a desolate
Place
For even the bones mourn us for their odds
We are!
Of what now be their heroic deeds?
Of what scores now be their victory?
For we search apprecia-fun,
When our little knowledge is torn.
.
©️ Balogun David Tolulope
{drunk poet}
2017
When Dr. Carey was suffering from a dangerous illness, the enquiry was made, “If this sickness should prove fatal, what passage would you select as the text for your funeral sermon?” He replied, “Oh, I feel that such a poor sinful creature is unworthy to have anything said about him; but if a funeral sermon must be preached, let it be from the words, ‘Have mercy upon me, O God, according to thy lovingkindness; according unto the multitude of thy tender mercies blot out my transgressions.’” In the same spirit of humility he directed in his will that the following inscription and nothing more should be cut on his gravestone:—
William Carey, Born August 17th, 1761: Died- -
“A wretched, poor, and helpless worm
On thy kind arms I fall.”
“A wretched, poor, and helpless worm
On thy kind arms I fall.”
Only on the footing of free grace can the most experienced and most honoured of the saints approach their God. The best of men are conscious above all others that they are men at the best. Empty boats float high, but heavily laden vessels are low in the water; mere professors can boast, but true children of God cry for mercy upon their unprofitableness.
We have need that the Lord should have mercy upon our good works, our prayers, our preachings, our alms-givings, and our holiest things. The blood was not only sprinkled upon the doorposts of Israel’s dwelling houses, but upon the sanctuary, the mercy-seat, and the altar, because as sin intrudes into our holiest things, the blood of Jesus is needed to purify them from defilement. If mercy be needed to be exercised towards our duties, what shall be said of our sins? How sweet the remembrance that inexhaustible mercy is waiting to be gracious to us, to restore our backslidings, and make our broken bones rejoice!
We have need that the Lord should have mercy upon our good works, our prayers, our preachings, our alms-givings, and our holiest things. The blood was not only sprinkled upon the doorposts of Israel’s dwelling houses, but upon the sanctuary, the mercy-seat, and the altar, because as sin intrudes into our holiest things, the blood of Jesus is needed to purify them from defilement. If mercy be needed to be exercised towards our duties, what shall be said of our sins? How sweet the remembrance that inexhaustible mercy is waiting to be gracious to us, to restore our backslidings, and make our broken bones rejoice!
When Dr. Carey was suffering from a dangerous illness, the enquiry was made, “If this sickness should prove fatal, what passage would you select as the text for your funeral sermon?” He replied, “Oh, I feel that such a poor sinful creature is unworthy to have anything said about him; but if a funeral sermon must be preached, let it be from the words, ‘Have mercy upon me, O God, according to thy lovingkindness; according unto the multitude of thy tender mercies blot out my transgressions.’” In the same spirit of humility he directed in his will that the following inscription and nothing more should be cut on his gravestone:—
William Carey, Born August 17th, 1761: Died- -
“A wretched, poor, and helpless worm
On thy kind arms I fall.”
“A wretched, poor, and helpless worm
On thy kind arms I fall.”
Only on the footing of free grace can the most experienced and most honoured of the saints approach their God. The best of men are conscious above all others that they are men at the best. Empty boats float high, but heavily laden vessels are low in the water; mere professors can boast, but true children of God cry for mercy upon their unprofitableness.
We have need that the Lord should have mercy upon our good works, our prayers, our preachings, our alms-givings, and our holiest things. The blood was not only sprinkled upon the doorposts of Israel’s dwelling houses, but upon the sanctuary, the mercy-seat, and the altar, because as sin intrudes into our holiest things, the blood of Jesus is needed to purify them from defilement. If mercy be needed to be exercised towards our duties, what shall be said of our sins? How sweet the remembrance that inexhaustible mercy is waiting to be gracious to us, to restore our backslidings, and make our broken bones rejoice!
We have need that the Lord should have mercy upon our good works, our prayers, our preachings, our alms-givings, and our holiest things. The blood was not only sprinkled upon the doorposts of Israel’s dwelling houses, but upon the sanctuary, the mercy-seat, and the altar, because as sin intrudes into our holiest things, the blood of Jesus is needed to purify them from defilement. If mercy be needed to be exercised towards our duties, what shall be said of our sins? How sweet the remembrance that inexhaustible mercy is waiting to be gracious to us, to restore our backslidings, and make our broken bones rejoice!
SOLITUDE
And he took him aside from the multitude – Mark 7:33
Paul not only stood the tests in Christian activity, but in the solitude of captivity. You may stand the strain of the most intense labor, coupled with severe suffering, and yet break down utterly when laid aside from all religious activities; when forced into close confinement in some prison house.
That noble bird, soaring the highest above the clouds and enduring the longest flights, sinks into despair when in a cage where it is forced to beat its helpless wings against its prison bars. You have seen the great eagle languish in its narrow cell with bowed head and drooping wings. What a picture of the sorrow of inactivity.
Paul in prison. That was another side of life. Do you want to see how he takes it? I see him looking out over the top of his prison wall and over the heads of his enemies. I see him write a document and sign his name—not the prisoner of Festus, nor of Caesar; not the victim of the Sanhedrin; but the—“prisoner of the Lord.” He saw only the hand of God in it all. To him the prison becomes a palace. Its corridors ring with shouts of triumphant praise and joy.
Restrained from the missionary work he loved so well, he now built a new pulpit—a new witness stand—and from that place of bondage come some of the sweetest and most helpful ministries of Christian liberty. What precious messages of light come from those dark shadows of captivity.
Think of the long train of imprisoned saints who have followed in Paul’s wake. For twelve long years Bunyan’s lips were silenced in Bedford jail. It was there that he did the greatest and best work of his life. There he wrote the book that has been read next to the Bible. He says, “I was at home in prison and I sat me down and wrote, and wrote, for joy did make me write.”
The wonderful dream of that long night has lighted the pathway of millions of weary pilgrims. That sweet-spirited French lady, Madam Guyon, lay long between prison walls. Like some caged birds that sing the sweeter for their confinement, the music of her soul has gone out far beyond the dungeon walls and scattered the desolation of many drooping hearts.
Oh, the heavenly consolation that has poured forth from places of solitude!—S. G. Rees
© Streams in the Desert
SOLITUDE
And he took him aside from the multitude – Mark 7:33
Paul not only stood the tests in Christian activity, but in the solitude of captivity. You may stand the strain of the most intense labor, coupled with severe suffering, and yet break down utterly when laid aside from all religious activities; when forced into close confinement in some prison house.
That noble bird, soaring the highest above the clouds and enduring the longest flights, sinks into despair when in a cage where it is forced to beat its helpless wings against its prison bars. You have seen the great eagle languish in its narrow cell with bowed head and drooping wings. What a picture of the sorrow of inactivity.
Paul in prison. That was another side of life. Do you want to see how he takes it? I see him looking out over the top of his prison wall and over the heads of his enemies. I see him write a document and sign his name—not the prisoner of Festus, nor of Caesar; not the victim of the Sanhedrin; but the—“prisoner of the Lord.” He saw only the hand of God in it all. To him the prison becomes a palace. Its corridors ring with shouts of triumphant praise and joy.
Restrained from the missionary work he loved so well, he now built a new pulpit—a new witness stand—and from that place of bondage come some of the sweetest and most helpful ministries of Christian liberty. What precious messages of light come from those dark shadows of captivity.
Think of the long train of imprisoned saints who have followed in Paul’s wake. For twelve long years Bunyan’s lips were silenced in Bedford jail. It was there that he did the greatest and best work of his life. There he wrote the book that has been read next to the Bible. He says, “I was at home in prison and I sat me down and wrote, and wrote, for joy did make me write.”
The wonderful dream of that long night has lighted the pathway of millions of weary pilgrims. That sweet-spirited French lady, Madam Guyon, lay long between prison walls. Like some caged birds that sing the sweeter for their confinement, the music of her soul has gone out far beyond the dungeon walls and scattered the desolation of many drooping hearts.
Oh, the heavenly consolation that has poured forth from places of solitude!—S. G. Rees
© Streams in the Desert
DARKNESS
.
.
"Goodnight Mum"
"Yeah, good night honey. And don't stay up late this time."
"okay mum, I promise." I replied. I smiled as I watched mum climb up the stairs to her room. It was past nine and I wasn't feeling sleepy yet so instead of going to my room and tossing from one part of the bed to the other or staring at the ceiling, I decided to watch the last three episodes of Game of Thrones, Season 6.
There I was until I started seeing Klaus fighting against Elijah Michaelson. While wondering what could possibly cause the fight between the brothers this time, the next scene showed Dominic Torredo and his team jumping off a plane in their various cars and Romeo screaming his guts out. The cars parachuted through the air for some time and when it was close to the ground, they released d parachute and the cars came raining from above and were about hitting the ground with a heavy thud when...
I jerked awake and saw the stupid movie still playing instead of pausing when it noticed I was no longer watching. Grinning at the thought of having such automatic TV that pauses whatever it's displaying until the viewer's attention is back on it, I headed to the toilet to relief myself. Okay, I know it sounds a little weird, especially for a lady, but I must really confess I love darkness. Maybe because I know the house so well, I can find my way around with my eyes closed. I like it when the lights are out, the quietness and ironically, the noise or rather say sounds of nocturnal insects and birds. Feels wonderful.
Anyways, I opened the toilet door and felt the cool breeze rush at me from the open window. Enjoying the sensation for some seconds, I pulled down my pajamas and was about doing the same to my panties when I saw... "Jesus!" i kept screaming as I ran out. The picture kept flashing through my head. "oh God! Oh God!" I was shaking all over. Oh that slithering head, the somewhat yellow eyes that gives the goosebumps feeling of evil. And then those horrible fangs and and... "Oh God!" I screamed again. It looked like it was gonna attack. What if it did? And how the fuck did it get in there? Oh this is one time I wish dad was at home.
I heard mum hurrying down the stairs and calling my name. "Joanne! Joanne!" too shocked to answer, I kept quiet. She rushed into the living room and switched on the lights. There I was on the couch with my arms around my knees staring in shock with the TV as the only source of light. She came close and asked what's wrong. "come on honey, talk to me. What's wrong?"
And then I saw it again! This time like a flash and then it was gone." I saw them mum. I Fucking saw them."
"no swear words honey, I thought I told you... "
"Yeah, I know but I Fucking saw them." now I was sobbing and trying to speak at same time. "I saw them yellow eyes in the dish mum. The Fucking yellow eyes with... With.. Vertical lines between them. And then, the fangs! The fangs with dilating tongue that... That... " I was practically out of breadth.
"it's alright honey. You probably had a nightmare and saw a snake like..."
"it's not a nightmare! I saw it. I'm not crazy mum believe me. Okay, you see, I was going to pee in the toilet. You know the toilet right? And then from nowhere I saw it stick out its head from the W.C staring hard at me. I swear mum! I wasn't sleeping. It was right there. I saw it!"
"it's okay honey I believe you. You can go back to sleep now. I'll just check it out to..."
"No!, Please don't. Its gonna strike. I saw it. It was real."
Meanwhile, mum already walked straight to the toilet while I was talking, switched on the light.. "Ahhh!" I screamed.
"shut up Joanne! It's late and there's nothing here. Now go to your room." she gave me that look that says "I'm disappointed in you." Then she started heading back to her room. Scared to drop my legs, I tried convincing her.
"I swear mum. It was there. It was just..."
Then I remembered! I left the toilet door open when I ran out. What if it crawled to the sitting room and it's hiding somewhere quiet? Or what if it already crawled to other rooms? Oh my God! I suddenly remembered again.
I never close my bedroom door!
Oh God, I hate darkness!
.
.
© David Udorah
DARKNESS
.
.
"Goodnight Mum"
"Yeah, good night honey. And don't stay up late this time."
"okay mum, I promise." I replied. I smiled as I watched mum climb up the stairs to her room. It was past nine and I wasn't feeling sleepy yet so instead of going to my room and tossing from one part of the bed to the other or staring at the ceiling, I decided to watch the last three episodes of Game of Thrones, Season 6.
There I was until I started seeing Klaus fighting against Elijah Michaelson. While wondering what could possibly cause the fight between the brothers this time, the next scene showed Dominic Torredo and his team jumping off a plane in their various cars and Romeo screaming his guts out. The cars parachuted through the air for some time and when it was close to the ground, they released d parachute and the cars came raining from above and were about hitting the ground with a heavy thud when...
I jerked awake and saw the stupid movie still playing instead of pausing when it noticed I was no longer watching. Grinning at the thought of having such automatic TV that pauses whatever it's displaying until the viewer's attention is back on it, I headed to the toilet to relief myself. Okay, I know it sounds a little weird, especially for a lady, but I must really confess I love darkness. Maybe because I know the house so well, I can find my way around with my eyes closed. I like it when the lights are out, the quietness and ironically, the noise or rather say sounds of nocturnal insects and birds. Feels wonderful.
Anyways, I opened the toilet door and felt the cool breeze rush at me from the open window. Enjoying the sensation for some seconds, I pulled down my pajamas and was about doing the same to my panties when I saw... "Jesus!" i kept screaming as I ran out. The picture kept flashing through my head. "oh God! Oh God!" I was shaking all over. Oh that slithering head, the somewhat yellow eyes that gives the goosebumps feeling of evil. And then those horrible fangs and and... "Oh God!" I screamed again. It looked like it was gonna attack. What if it did? And how the fuck did it get in there? Oh this is one time I wish dad was at home.
I heard mum hurrying down the stairs and calling my name. "Joanne! Joanne!" too shocked to answer, I kept quiet. She rushed into the living room and switched on the lights. There I was on the couch with my arms around my knees staring in shock with the TV as the only source of light. She came close and asked what's wrong. "come on honey, talk to me. What's wrong?"
And then I saw it again! This time like a flash and then it was gone." I saw them mum. I Fucking saw them."
"no swear words honey, I thought I told you... "
"Yeah, I know but I Fucking saw them." now I was sobbing and trying to speak at same time. "I saw them yellow eyes in the dish mum. The Fucking yellow eyes with... With.. Vertical lines between them. And then, the fangs! The fangs with dilating tongue that... That... " I was practically out of breadth.
"it's alright honey. You probably had a nightmare and saw a snake like..."
"it's not a nightmare! I saw it. I'm not crazy mum believe me. Okay, you see, I was going to pee in the toilet. You know the toilet right? And then from nowhere I saw it stick out its head from the W.C staring hard at me. I swear mum! I wasn't sleeping. It was right there. I saw it!"
"it's okay honey I believe you. You can go back to sleep now. I'll just check it out to..."
"No!, Please don't. Its gonna strike. I saw it. It was real."
Meanwhile, mum already walked straight to the toilet while I was talking, switched on the light.. "Ahhh!" I screamed.
"shut up Joanne! It's late and there's nothing here. Now go to your room." she gave me that look that says "I'm disappointed in you." Then she started heading back to her room. Scared to drop my legs, I tried convincing her.
"I swear mum. It was there. It was just..."
Then I remembered! I left the toilet door open when I ran out. What if it crawled to the sitting room and it's hiding somewhere quiet? Or what if it already crawled to other rooms? Oh my God! I suddenly remembered again.
I never close my bedroom door!
Oh God, I hate darkness!
.
.
© David Udorah
BE THERE...
Tell this girl I will be there
Where no one is, when the dark days come
Tell this girl I will be there
When the heavens rent
And the horizon goes grey
Tell this girl I will be there
In her lonely hours, praying alone to the lord so high
Tell her I will be there
When the world feels empty, melancholy claim soul
Tell her I will be there...
When the strong dawn rise
Be there
As the fresh breath returns
Be there
As the cramped bones thaw
Be there
Laughter suffuse the face
Be there
When the world comes back
Be there
As the dead plants grow
Be there
The heart grows warm
Be there
Love finds a place
Be there
The soul finds love
Be there
The love returns
Be there
The day chimes on
Be there
Your heart finds me
Be there
My heart finds you
Be there
Love embrace
Be there
The world comes close
Be there
There is brightness in the sky
Be there
I can only see light
Be there
Light! Light! Light!
Be there
The world explodes.
© AbdulHamid G. Yuusuf
BE THERE...
Tell this girl I will be there
Where no one is, when the dark days come
Tell this girl I will be there
When the heavens rent
And the horizon goes grey
Tell this girl I will be there
In her lonely hours, praying alone to the lord so high
Tell her I will be there
When the world feels empty, melancholy claim soul
Tell her I will be there...
When the strong dawn rise
Be there
As the fresh breath returns
Be there
As the cramped bones thaw
Be there
Laughter suffuse the face
Be there
When the world comes back
Be there
As the dead plants grow
Be there
The heart grows warm
Be there
Love finds a place
Be there
The soul finds love
Be there
The love returns
Be there
The day chimes on
Be there
Your heart finds me
Be there
My heart finds you
Be there
Love embrace
Be there
The world comes close
Be there
There is brightness in the sky
Be there
I can only see light
Be there
Light! Light! Light!
Be there
The world explodes.
© AbdulHamid G. Yuusuf
WHEN I'M GROWN-UP
Awoke today with smiles and dreams
To live the life that's filled with beams
Reignite energy and grow in esteem
When I grow up, I'll design my theme
Fascinated by places I read of under trees
With freedom to go exploring in glee
No lights out nor sanctions I need to plea
When I'm grown-up, I'll go to bed at three
No books to read, nor words to scrawl
No rules to obey neither rolls to call
I won't be commanded to face the wall
Oh! Growing graciously, will free the thrall
I'll spend on chocolates all that I earn
Play in parks all day will be my concern
Adulthood will be fun and all I yearn
It's mama's choice not to enjoy and learn
I looked in the mirror and saw some grey
I read and scrawl and still obey
Is this what growing up pushes my way
In adulthood, life is not a bouquet
© From: Precious Sprouts Schools,Ikotun, Lagos
Contact: precioussproutslagos.com
WHEN I'M GROWN-UP
Awoke today with smiles and dreams
To live the life that's filled with beams
Reignite energy and grow in esteem
When I grow up, I'll design my theme
Fascinated by places I read of under trees
With freedom to go exploring in glee
No lights out nor sanctions I need to plea
When I'm grown-up, I'll go to bed at three
No books to read, nor words to scrawl
No rules to obey neither rolls to call
I won't be commanded to face the wall
Oh! Growing graciously, will free the thrall
I'll spend on chocolates all that I earn
Play in parks all day will be my concern
Adulthood will be fun and all I yearn
It's mama's choice not to enjoy and learn
I looked in the mirror and saw some grey
I read and scrawl and still obey
Is this what growing up pushes my way
In adulthood, life is not a bouquet
© From: Precious Sprouts Schools,Ikotun, Lagos
Contact: precioussproutslagos.com
Ife mi
When my heart be as soft as the calm sea
Your lovely boat rocks my shore
Your star shines,shines so bright
You are a beauty to desire
You are the strongest fragile glass I hold
Never letting you fall or go
Your love around me just like a rope
My life at peace like a dove
Your beauty is rare to see
Your smile makes the earth to shift
Your hearts speaks life to me to live
My one and only ife mi
So many flowers buds me to pick
But my love blinded eyes has but one to pick
Not even our love shall shell deceit
For our souls were bound to live in peace
#lovelovelove
#i speak love
©Tujahsuccess
Ife mi
When my heart be as soft as the calm sea
Your lovely boat rocks my shore
Your star shines,shines so bright
You are a beauty to desire
You are the strongest fragile glass I hold
Never letting you fall or go
Your love around me just like a rope
My life at peace like a dove
Your beauty is rare to see
Your smile makes the earth to shift
Your hearts speaks life to me to live
My one and only ife mi
So many flowers buds me to pick
But my love blinded eyes has but one to pick
Not even our love shall shell deceit
For our souls were bound to live in peace
#lovelovelove
#i speak love
©Tujahsuccess
LOVE CYCLE
Time is the unit of measure,
And the clock begins to tick again.
With enough time to fix my errors,
I've done things upright.
With the dawn of days,
The rudiment of love have understood.
Loneliness calls.
In love's journeys, have lost my senses.
Tossing around, sooner the fire ends.
All i need is someone to take the chance,
On a love's journey that will last,
without insanity display.
And when the night falls, then my lonely heart calls.
©TOMISIN THOMAS
TEE-THOMAS
LOVE CYCLE
Time is the unit of measure,
And the clock begins to tick again.
With enough time to fix my errors,
I've done things upright.
With the dawn of days,
The rudiment of love have understood.
Loneliness calls.
In love's journeys, have lost my senses.
Tossing around, sooner the fire ends.
All i need is someone to take the chance,
On a love's journey that will last,
without insanity display.
And when the night falls, then my lonely heart calls.
©TOMISIN THOMAS
TEE-THOMAS
Omoge campus
.
Her hair, a typical example of
Branches of trees
Beauty, noticeable like an abino in a market
Appearance like that of a fallen angel.
Her face, limned with unlike colors
Like the flag of a foreign land
Her neck, an abode for golds and slivers
leaning graciously on her cleavage.
Could she be the reincarnation of Jezebel?
.
Her chest, a valley that only
Doom resides.
Her smile, irresistible charm like
The beauty of a mermaid.
Aminated with dimples for the
Captivity of men
Could she be Jezebel in another skin?
.
Her skin, fashionably soft
But Naive to the impending seige
Of wrinkles.
Her legs, genetics of an ostrich
Elongated only to sweet sorrow
Omoge campus, the Jebel of our era
.
©2016
Balogun David Tolulope (drunk poet)
Omoge campus
.
Her hair, a typical example of
Branches of trees
Beauty, noticeable like an abino in a market
Appearance like that of a fallen angel.
Her face, limned with unlike colors
Like the flag of a foreign land
Her neck, an abode for golds and slivers
leaning graciously on her cleavage.
Could she be the reincarnation of Jezebel?
.
Her chest, a valley that only
Doom resides.
Her smile, irresistible charm like
The beauty of a mermaid.
Aminated with dimples for the
Captivity of men
Could she be Jezebel in another skin?
.
Her skin, fashionably soft
But Naive to the impending seige
Of wrinkles.
Her legs, genetics of an ostrich
Elongated only to sweet sorrow
Omoge campus, the Jebel of our era
.
©2016
Balogun David Tolulope (drunk poet)
When Plato says art is at best useless and potentially dangerous, he may not be appealing to most critics opinion, but I find the idea so fascinatingly true when I attempt to understand the brainless idiocy and imbecility of Nigeria hip hop... While I'm not a follower of Plato, I'm neither a dogmatic admirer of Aristotle mimesis... How can the African mind comprehend the craze going on in the musical industry...?
When Plato says art is at best useless and potentially dangerous, he may not be appealing to most critics opinion, but I find the idea so fascinatingly true when I attempt to understand the brainless idiocy and imbecility of Nigeria hip hop... While I'm not a follower of Plato, I'm neither a dogmatic admirer of Aristotle mimesis... How can the African mind comprehend the craze going on in the musical industry...?
HIDE & SEEK
#soulPoet
Like a sunrise,
You rise on my pillow.
Like a sunset,
You set down into the valley.
My bosom, you called it solace.
You grace it when you thirst.
If you love me, you stay with me.
Hide and seek is a game of ghost.
© niyeric9518
Soul Poet
HIDE & SEEK
#soulPoet
Like a sunrise,
You rise on my pillow.
Like a sunset,
You set down into the valley.
My bosom, you called it solace.
You grace it when you thirst.
If you love me, you stay with me.
Hide and seek is a game of ghost.
© niyeric9518
Soul Poet
A patriot
I would close my eyes
and then sift all the silence of the night deep into my subconscious, after which I time travel the length and width of my unreachable expanse within the confines of my cell wall.
How I got here, and how I did it, still remains a mystery to me. I don't know if I still recognise the me in this present situation. IfJames, my friend, could only be here to explain to the jury that it was all a mistake and nothing more than an accidental coincidence muddled up with the whole incidence. That I never meant to stab him, that all I wanted to do was to chastise him for supporting Germany against Nigeria. I wish he were here to vindicate and tell them it was all part of supporting my dear nation and nothing more.
I am a patriot who would not sit still and watch anyone speak ill of my beloved country. I have been found guilty for murder and death by hanging until breath is forcefully drained from my body is my punishment. Only...if James were here he would have vindicated me.
The End.
© Melson
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