Skip to main content

SANDS OF TIME




By Ola vincent Omotade


"A tragedian's view"

The atmosphere became closed and stuffy.
The sky of FUTMX became dull and leaden.
Drift of clouds in the upper air rushed about helter-skelter
Just the way his body was carried from the 24players football pitch, to the treatment bay and then eternal stay.
His soul wagering, ready to leave The Niger.
His spirit ready to cause Violence because he needed to go.
I perceive the burning of mattresses,
trooping of soldiers to our girls hostel was trespasses.
Oh! right niggas
He died doing what he likes doing best
He was an hero..A display of an heroic.
Yet in futmx were reflective moments,
We wanted Victories of peace outta
We became more ALUTA.
Protest are like flashes of lightning, dazzling,blinding,Brilliant but momentary,
It often leaves a trail of death and Destruction.
Go home for 2weeks, hay it may last for a month, They said.
Then we felt the radiance of the sun and the tender glow of the moon.
We regretted our acts
Some saying oh why do we?
Even as the rest of their days passes off in a blaze of sadness and sorrows
Whenever his family reiterates his birth and death.
Thier is this harbinger of tears and sorrow.
I know you go to a place more Diviner in leisure and pleasure
I know you go to a place more happy than those that lives on land.
I know YOU go to a place fulfills with pulse of diverse splendor
Today, there are spread on the blue surface of the Niger
Bro, your heart is strong, like the Tiger
Like the white hair uplifted from the head, it pains us ur death
We all felt your shade and shadow as it Vamps of the City of MX
Sincerely of a true nature
Olalekan Emmanuel, aka Yeye (Chemistry) 300l Futmx
You left your footprints in the sand of time.
Adieu ! Adieu !! Adieu !!!

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

HER MAJESTY

By Ola Vincent Omotade There was a village named Gini, a town blessed with mineral resources and oil. For a long-time the town had been under the pressure and control of Gbaduze a strong courageous king that ruled with excess superiority and power. A very sinful nation, a people laden with iniquity, a seed of evildoers, cities where corruption reigned supreme, they forsake the word of the wise and were bent on doing evil, but at the later end Queen Marieke, a woman brought back glory to the land. There lived a king named Gbaduze, a long living wealthy king, dark shinning in complexion, a man of his own very word and power embedded due to influence of the Niger-areas in Okere-aje kingdom. However, when death came calling, he died and the king makers ordered that the Queen to ascend the throne of her late husband and invariably preside over the affairs of the community. On ascension, she rigorously studied the existing relationship between the three major tribes in Gini. Q...

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...

THE LOVE IN HIS EYES

 – By Hilanzok She breaks down in tears as she sees him. His eyes a shade of light brown surrounded by a shrub of lashes speaks volume of what he has experienced in his life. His face a texture of smooth avocado gleamed through the canvas-skin; coarse to touch, spectacular and perfect to the sight. She doesn’t know how to explain it, but she felt this tug in her heart, she knows this boy has experienced things the eyes would bleed if it sees, and the mouth would be reluctant to voice out. It is evident in the liquidity of his eyes, the expressionless look( like a 21st-century male Monalisa) they bore. His cheekbones chiseled and firm fitted like a glove to his trimmed face. He is beautiful, but suffering and despair loomed in his aura, he didn’t need to say it out, in fact, he didn’t need to say anything. She is satisfied just looking at his face, admiring and accessing the contours of his face. She feels the urge to lean forward and press her lips against his, she wants...