MANTLE OF HARDSHIP

Everyday in my country
tussle for power is a devotion,
old men driven by greed mono-
polizes leadership post. Alas! bring
forth nothing but mantle of hardship.

Everyday we hear news of
how home turns to graveyard
overnight. Yet, we care less about
what a mother feels; losing all her
family members in a night.

Everyday our youth's coarse
manners are subject of questioning,
children who has forsaken God for
quick riches, dashing towards the
lane of peril.

Everyday in my city, shameless
men physically assault wives,
frustrated being on rampage.
Stressed street with strict rules.
Bedraggled land of moribund hope.

It is crystal clear our guidance
angel is lying dormant. I'd rather
become a vagabond in another
man's land than rot in this land
that reeks of blood and grenades.

I cannot see to the eyes of the
pictures anymore. Let me leave
to where I can sleep with my two
eyes closed. To where the path
seems right and blissful.

Adekunle Baq're Abdulhakeem
©May, 2018. All rights reserved

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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...

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...

FADING SAPPHIRES

By Ola Vincent Omotade She shouted at me '' just walk away '' You made my past miserable, you're meant to be forgotten. I tried to walk gently out of her sight. she then 'whispers' I hate you ,cheater, devil she said. Then i knelt down and from my sour mouth,I said "Could me and you with fates conspire,to break this sorry scheme of a thing entire. Cos my glances nowadays are now in glimpse. She looked at me and replied i give you just five minutes. Then i knew i had to do more of poetry and not planning. So i started this way Clouds and Darkness were round about me. Just like the first time i saw your face. And After your lightning enlightened my world, there was a great race in my heart. The way my heart beats radically still wont Change. so I wept bitterly upon the mountains and upon the Hills and it seems someone is taking me away.. Waters cannot quench our love neither can flood drown it....wait Just mention, e...

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