Showing posts from June, 2017


Letting tears down is like rivers flowing Northward for some of usThe stage play of our lives is all they know us forWhen the crowd clapped the other day  and I smiled, my heart cried down and shook my ribsNobody sees the salty flood of tears drowning our inner selves,The only reason I still remain afloat is the Spirit that keeps me above the cares,Somewhere down in me,  the boiling waters are kept and yet I let cool waters run to other lives, These things befall many of the 'strong-looking' personae of the street,Like the earthenware pot  Aseye of Ziope carriesto the riverside, they also crackWhen they run errands for the masses and yet they leave their tasks undone, they also hurt at nightIt is their wish that someone from somewhere would pat them on the back and whisper a well-done or that at least a good Samaritan would offer them some help too Seeking help has remained that impractical thought their minds harbour, Like a stubborn dog who cares not how much it is beaten, W…

Where's Hope?

The wall was walking and the rivers stopped flowing, 
Life stopped and the rocks grew bigger,
But the dead beats of my heart told me I was alive.
Nobody was speaking and only ghosts were murmuring from afar,
I was still in yesterday when tomorrow bypassed me.
My keys failed to unlock my doors and my loads grew heavier.
My dreams went behind me and failure beckoned from before me

To run didn't seem wise; my limbs seemed to fail me,
Even if they hadn't failed, to where do I run?
For the door remained locked and the keys still useless.
Quitting seemed wise, but the voices of my numberless dependents cried;
So I looked on them, smiled at them to give them hope
Then I turned, walked and cried my heart out unending,
My lips seemed sealed but my heart spoke to my God


The shuttle was empty when he entered. Twas one of those rare days   when the shuttle station was almost empty and so there would be some time between now and when it gets full. He jumped in and decided to sit behind the lone lady seated before her. He refused to stop staring at her.
She was exactly the ideal figure that would attract him. She had that model-like shape that he psyched himself overtime and schooling to love and she wasn't fair in complexion either. Such a discrimination against size and color. Even though his parents didn't  like small things so much, he nursed and kept his desire for ladies who would not too big to carry in emergencies. 
He is used to rejections from the ladies he likes and has developed some thick skin to cope with that. So he decided to give this one a shot.He: HiShe: Hello(with that sort of "what-are-you-up-to" look) Then he went on to ask, "are you a student or...?" She smiled, but still wore her seriousness beneath the s…


I have decided to seek out for what I could learn than what I have lost in all situations. So I say, "I have not lost anything, I have just had another opportunity to learn something new". Even though there is the need to accept that certain situations and events of our lives are costly, I believe there are lessons everywhere to be learned. Whatever the case, no matter how high the cost, you cannot afford to let go of the lessons the situation offer. It is not wise to suffer the cost of difficult moments and ignore the lessons they offer too
To stop learning before death is to quicken death.To remain gloomy forever because you faced the worst does not rewrite the misfortune.
There is the need to pick up the lessons, smile at the future and race towards it with confidence. Don'tStopLearningEvenInTheWorstSituation|||||


Her palm is rough and soles of her feet cracked,Her waist so stiff, yet strong,Bending and rising beneath the sun's blows,Yet her smiles as wide as a queen's, Always adorned in tattered fabric 'graced with daily sweat'.She didn't love it, but she must do it;Waking to meet another beautiful day of 'peanut hunt'.She has many mouths and hopes looking up to her, Almost like a curse, she must hurt alone to give them joy.Her labour yields much but she earns only peanuts.Pruning, spraying, harvesting and processing all year,Only to share at a loss with the powerful men.She can't quit this trade though she hates it. She does all, not to free her self,But to grant her seeds a break from the curse;That old foe - poverty always before her,Tho uncertain her seeds would make her proud,She never returns home till the day's work is done.


One body, many faces…As a person accustomed to natural rural life, artificial stuff becomes very conspicuously odd to me. I got used to the idea that every human had a single look and face by which they are known. Now in the city, I have come to see artificial multiple looks. Ones that are “made up”, and actually sometimes over made. Once in my city encounters, I met this lady who was a friend with a relatively stable face and look. But then she changed the next semester and oh, I could not make her out. She had over made so much that she had a new look in-congruent to the image my mind has stored of her. That birthed the death of our friendship. I wasn’t to blame – I needed to memorize school books to pass my exams and not multiple looks of the same being. When the face paints others…One rare morning when I decided to dress up in my new shirt to class, I saw a happy face of a lady with opened arms inviting a hug from me. I obeyed and offered the hug (though awkwardly). I moved…