FLOWERS OF HEAVEN

By Harrison Kayode Adams

The summer is seasonal, but it offers a lot of opportunities to most folks; plenty of sun, plenty of rains. Plenty of outdoor activities and plenty of travel opportunities. Mountain climbing and hang gliding depending on the climate of your location and white water activities. For the photographer, plenty of opportunities – flowers, insects, cloud formations, girls watching some say, wild life and more. Here are some flowers from this summer..

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FEBRUARY 27

By Ola Vincent Omotade Aderonke will be my only poem that never ends, For a good woman is but a poem. A genuine poem that comes in blue moon. You are a jewel of purest gold, The smile that never grows old. You are the beauty of the sunset sky, The intricate twinkle of a happy star. You are the keeper of an unborn life, A champion, heroine, a candlelight . You are a budding shoot, evergreen, a colourful sweetness. Your laughter is like the whirlwind of the spirit, it keeps resounding in the valleys and hills of life and motions. Encircling the hearts of men with magical notions. So now the night of January is past and the day of February is broken Today speaks of this calmness, this brightness,the one you brought. Today carries messages of heavy words, Words that are pregnant with beauty for you. And with my golden mouth and pen, I wish to celebrate your existence. What joy of a fuller and freer life, have I got if onl...

''AM A BLACK ANGEL"

By Ola Vincent Omotade I look dark in the outside But deep within my fragile heart, lies a light. "The brightest light that shines so bright" Just as the rainbow in its gloomily, Brightens and beautifies the clouds, After a stormy rain, so I shine in your gloominess I am a black angel yet I brighten your darkest. So I stood every morning causing a radiance to your awesome smile. Even when it seems am unnoticed, I keep making you colourful and accepted. So many decades ago, I was sent to come make you fulfill To come bring you splendor in vendors. My beautiful self have I sold to your love, I live all day radically enraptured in your world. I am your BLACK ANGEL

ÌGBÀ ÈWE (CHILDHOOD DAYS)

By Teslim Opemipo Let our mothers come like harmattan haze and swear by the sacrality of ògún if the roof lying above their fathers' house has never been stoned by a boy in love to walk them out for an evening talk. Let our fathers come like a windy rain and swear by the simplicity of òsun if the path that leads to the village stream has never danced to serenades sang by their soles in chase of maidens with braids so long. Let the elders come like a mid-year harvest and swear by the tranquility of the moon if they've not once tasted the bliss of childhood fermented with the morals of moonlight tales. In our village, childhood is made of water; kinsmen, remember, water is brewed with life and life is the laughter moulded on our lips when we gambol from rivers to trees and to fields painted in the colours of hopping grasses. Brethren, if you hear an elder saying: growing up kills laughter and joy, do not giggle for they once like us tasted the bliss o...

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