Omotade's diary of LOVE

By Ola Vincent Omotade

Love takes and gives,
Never gets longer or shorter
Blindfolded in pains,
Friends turn down against
world closes OPPORTUNITIES.
Death brings forth it fruits,
all in the name of LOVE.

LOVE, LOVE again I repeat
never be captured by it
Broken heart (heart broken) Thoughts (wild thoughts)
Over protection, oh am abducted

No love love no heart,
Friend gets too old.
never being loved, being cold
Love again
that shot gets older
No relating, no new friends
brokenness sets in
drug creeps at back
bad live hood comes thereafter.

Just for love,
I can't say this
But I hate the day I came in
Father ain't there,
mother ain't neither.
Left under the pit
forgotten, once there ain't no LOVE

GOD please help
Lead me, Guide me
though I feel left out,
not being like LOVED
But I know this gets better off once day
AMEN!!!!

I feel hated down my viens,
Sometimes I believe death is the best
But that's a pest,
Which I think all I do after is rest

But there is more life to be lived
Hopes, Opportunities, promise sets in
God please help me.
I know not what I am doing or who I am
If love is a crime, sin
let me be guilty, and be imprisoned of it

Many times do I call love a prostitute tears of sorrow flooded my face then
cos I was always searching for affections ,attentions,
I have decided to let all that Go
Now I belief love lives.

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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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By Jonathan Oladeji I don’t know how many people have met Salewa before, even if it is not the Salewa I am talking about. What can you say is common about every Salewa? It’s usually their room mates that can testify better. I met Salewa in my 200 level and she told me her name was Sally. I stared at her for hours before managing to pick a seat behind her in the then AUD 2 on the Great Ife campus. Salewa is the typical tall, slim, dark and beautiful (TSDB) girl. I approached with all caution because I wanted to make a good impression. Even though I am not much of a fashionista, I could see her wrist bracelet, earrings and neck-piece were a complete set out of an A-Class boutique. Salewa was not the bend-down select kind of girl. I wanted to break out of that circle too by all means. We talked awkwardly at first, then kicked off with a bit of more fashion related gist as I noticed that was all she wanted to talk about. I actually wanted to talk about drawing boards and painting c...

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