Skip to main content
A LETTER TO MY CRUSH
..By Ola Vincent Omotade

So i started the letter with few Yoruba poetic lines

Omo tuntun kan tide adugbo...
Elumide loruko re , omo baba ELU ni o!
Adumaradan, omo eleje tutu.
Ara mi aya ti mo ba ri ni kuutu.

After reading this Yoruba serenade, she took the letter to read with great admiration, she read out the name on the letter

 "Ola Vincent Omotade.."

She hisses "mtchewwwwww"

Joke the cool headed, smiles as this words bounced off her vocal chords

"who wrote you a letter? she said

Oh, the letter is from this guy who calls himself
Ola Vincent jare..

Joke answered, that poet ko, the one crushing on you, lets see what he wrote there now, a romantic poem i guess..

I don't know for him.
Joke hijacked the letter from her  and read to the room of six.

Dear Elumide,

"Be a Good girl and face your studies, keep a straight face, don't talk to boys, talk to girls only..you could talk to Vincent anyways.. You know he is a  man of God "

Lol.. I wrote this onset paradox, its a letter. What if mumcy sees this letter first..? Then i'm done for.

But Mide if you're reading this, its a medical note, a summary of a lecture you missed while you were home. Mummy if you're reading this, you don't need to. Trust us, its purely academical.

Yea.. Mide
With no intended insolence or schematic plot of tomfoolery towards you, l'll like to remind you of how breathtakingly  gorgeously you look.

 Any human who desperately needs to see the Arabaribitiness (Almightiness) of God should  come to Osun state, where you, Elumide was birthed.

God's enviable creation,  i think i have a feel of what heaven looks like since heaven resides with you, visibly with a topnotch nose, edible looking lips,  resplendently glowing eye balls, aesthetically radiating sets of teeth, a perfected height and gratifying shaped curves..

Please accept these as an appreciation of architectural eloquence through you holy kisses (Romans 16:16) lol , hugs and accolades aplenty..

See you soon..

#Yours dearly
#Pastor Ola

Who knows, if mummy would skim through the letter to the last word to see who wrote it..

Laughs

 #PoetryPowerPeople

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

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...
Post a Comment
Read more
A LETTER TO YOU To you who just wanna throw in the towel and probably end your life already, cause it feels like the weight of 4 planets lay comfortably on your shoulders and your happiness just lasts only as long as a good haircut. To you who has lost the spark to all you hold dear. The passion you once used to feel juggle in your belly just suddenly disappeared. To you who has this excruciating pain (in your body, soul. Every single where, it hurts bad)  that won't just go away. To you who doesn't know yourself. You don't even love yourself first first. You wear the mask every single time so that it's caused bruises on your face. Sores. Scars. You have eroded You. To you who feels getting from where you are to wanna be is a very long thing. To you who don't even know how and what to feel. To you fighting battles. Though ones, you can't deal no more. You have this ugly past that brings plenty voices in your head. You can't tell no one. . ....
Post a Comment
Read more

WHY DO TEARS FOREVER FLOW?

By Ola Vincent Omotade As I lay on my bed this morning, with sunlight streaming through the window, a gentle breeze blew the flimsy white curtain and I saw the sky turn blue.. OH! its a new day I said. Just as I took a step to go get my pink hard smoker's brush and a Dabur-herbal toothpaste to spray on my brush, I heard someone crying in terribleness. I was weak in my spirit and all I did was to rest on my cushion, threw the brush on my carved mahogany bench and these were words that interfered with my heart. I realized coming to this earth, newly birth nothing in my hand I bring. simply naked to the earth I come, looking for dress in tearsa Oh for us We came hale and hearty, But yet tears trooped out from our eyes, the little helpless baby. Looking for ways to support living, we sow in tears but at times reap in joy, not always every time though. Going through the nooks and crannies of pains in craft works, handiworks and education (disciplined with tear...
Post a Comment
Read more