Category: Teamwork

Still Pray

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It’s freestyle Friday and you know how we like to serve you; Hot 🔥 and fresh from the oven!!!. My name is Adeleye Olaoye and I will be the one to run you through Today’s menu. Niel, at 9:41 a.m., came to announce what we would be dishing for the day; Still Pray. I wonder what was going through his mind but anyway, sit back and enjoy your meal as your eyes feast on our poems.

At 9:46 A.M., Zoe Ziva opened dey floor:

Dey pray
E go be like say sometimes e no dey work, but still, dey pray
E go even be like Daniel wey dem go gather for your matter dey talk, but still, dey pray
Sometimes it may feel that your prayers are even dragging you towards what you’re praying against, yet again, still pray.
For in the place of prayers we gain strength for the days ahead, so still dey pray
For na den we go receive grace take make things happen and strength to stop the wrong things from happening.
So I say again. Dey pray.

Hope you enjoyed the appetizer? At 9:48 A.M., Godswill Ezeonyeka wrote:

Pray still I pray thee
When thy lips part in supplication
Let thine heart not wavering remain still
Let Jesus call thy peace to attention
And thy prayers find joyful voyage to Father

At 9:56 A.M., Hannah wrote:

When the edge is broken
When there are stray bullets flying in the streets
To pray or not to pray will not be a dilemma
When you are swallowed up by a fish
When you know you’re the reason for the chaos
To pray or not to pray will not be in conflict
But all pray and no watch makes the purpose of the One who sent you frustrated
Yet, all watch and no pray makes you a vessel of no use!

Godswill Ezeonyeka wasn’t done! At 10:03 A.M., he wrote:

Hearken! I pray thee
To the prayers prayed before
Our fathers besought the Father’s very being
With open hearts they yearned for answers we now ignore
Ye! The poured out Spirit searcheth for praying sons

At 10:43 A.M., The Niel wrote :
Father take it from me
Any hanging ons
Gbadura Fun mi
Favors get returned
May acidic spirits get watered down
Man on Holy Ghost
Word Diet and nightgown
We still pray for things we should be praying at
Father said pursue from where you’re kneeling at
Na Spirit go back you, just raise the right mast
Our room is espo, We were an Atlas
I still pray like spiritual pillow talk
Given there are days when we do outburst
The power and eternity sit above the talk
The Lord and His Word are the very First

Felzpoecy, at 10:45 dropped his bars:
When life seats you down to have a meeting with love
And your body begins to feel man enough to own it
Remember
Nobody ever made the right handbook for loving
So when you fall in a kind of love that doesn’t keep you warm in winter
Teach yourself to stand up
Do not leave without burning the bridges
The heat would help you through your travel to a better place

At 10:55 A.M., Ubamara wrote:
Stand still my soul, I pray thee
And know that He is God
When my heart is overwhelmed within me
Still will I pray
More times than I care to count
Has the One who is Love come through for me
And when it seems like my okro doesn’t draw
Still will I pray to the One I’m drawn to

At 11:38 A.M., The Jemcy wrote this:
The rule is simple
Pray or Faint
But I plead with you to choose the former
Its easier than you all have made it
Its as simple as telling me everything
As you would a friend.
I’m tired of being your last option
And being called upon only when you’re in trouble
I want you to dial the line just to say hi
I want our communication to be a constant thing.
I’m not a deaf God my boy
I just want you to pray some more
Till prayer becomes your lifestyle
The solution is simple
When you’re weak, ask me for help to pray…
And by asking, you just started to pray!!!

At 11:45 A.M., Eremipaghmo Pearl rounded up when she wrote this:
Speak the infinite liturgical languages
Pray! It’s a familiar code
Series of requests
Thanksgivings
Intercessions
Let the silent voice cry out
Leave the answer to the one whose say counts
Pray, it’s a familiar code
People still seek a listening ear
Raging thoughts driving them mad
And before them is the familiar code
Yet they know it not
Stiffled faith is what desperation births
The labour is ominous
If we don’t know the code
Let it out
Let it out to the one whose say count
Pray still regardless of what language you know
Still pray when thoughts go wild.
Do both in the name of Jesus

Authors:
Godswill Ezeonyenka
Zoe Ziva
Ubamara
Eremipaghmo Pearl
Niel
Jemcy
Felzpoecy

Pay Attention

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Hello, My name is Adeleye and today I will be your tour guide on this wonderful first freestyle journey for the year.
Godswill was at the wheels and he decided to go vintage today;  At 5:52pm he said : Lets try an oldie: Freestyle with pictures and at exactly 5:57pm he dropped three picture prompts.

Ini brown dropped some hot bars at 6:14pm :


Pay attention to handwriting on the wall
For the signs and seasons signal many will fall
Let this rhyme of reason remind stand tall
For love wax cold at winter’s call

Pay attention to the Hand, writing on the wall.
Love personified, who can pick you if you fall
Mercy magnified, he heed you when you call
Hands always out stretched for your.

At 6:25pm, Godswill wrote:

pay attention to handwritings on this wall
this painting is noise so your bargain is null
the diversity seduces your soul to a dull
so spend your attention wisely like Paul

on things that lovely, kind and pure
within that noise HIS hand beckons
it pulls you in through the cross and more
pay attention to Hand’s writing on the wall

But Godswill wasn’t done, he decided to draw the curtains on the day by 8:50pm as he wrote:


There are many storylines but there is one storywriter. There is only one way that leads to the end and only the maze master knows it. Many men have argued about who wins the chess game between the foreseer and the mindreader but the creator will always checkmate.

And there you have it! The first freestyle session for the year! What are way to start! Don’t miss any of our sessions this year as we will be serving it hot this year!

Authors :
Ini Brown
Ezeonyeka Godswill

Out-Heal the Loss

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Hello, My name is Niel and these are the ChristaPoet Freestyle Sessions. This year, ChristaPoet wants to give you a special perspective to our freestyles. At first, some of these poems were published as stand-alone pieces. But in actuality, each poem is an untitled part of a freestyle session. Each freestyle session is given a topic for the poems to address.

Today, we see the last of the February 25th 2022 poems. Topic was “Regeneration”.
Yesterday, we went through the ladies who all posted inside the 11th hour. So today we begin at 12:10 PM, with the CaP goddess, Chika St. Davnique:


I feel pain every time I think of my sister.

And I’m not thinking about myself when I think of her.

I’m thinking of all the ways in which she was alive.

I’m reliving the moments in which her smile lived.

And the pain I feel, it’s not selfish.


So no.


Adjust your lenses


And somewhere around this period, she got into a sensitive discussion with MeerahZoe. Now because some parts of the discussion was in voicenotes, I will give you a summary of the most important point made during the argument. The rest is honey and milk for CaP members. To join up, GoTo the “Join Us” tab

They were talking about different people’s reactions to loss. Chika said: As Christian writers, w hen we write, we owe it to the world and our audience to say what is true, and not just what we feel at the moment. Infact, whenever we want to be so subjective, we should state that this is us and just our perspective. Making absolute statements based on subjectivity has to stop.

At 12:36 PM, Chika St. Davnique made some some more poetry:


‘Please hold on while your transaction is processing…’

I’m staring lost in thought.
My mind, a multiverse of directions my thoughts wish to take.

Another line from a poem my father taught me floats into my brain…

‘We have come to the crossroad, and I either leave or come with you’

So I go with it.

The thought that we are always in the midst of a transaction. Always coming and going from an exchange. Always living or dying, giving or leaving.

The machine is still grinding, my body is still standing.
I wonder, does the man behind me know I’m lost.
Or is he lost in the endless start of things?

Is he coming and going from worries?
Is he in a loop of misdirection? And does he know the dimensions of life’s transactions?

Does he know what matters? Is he exchanging his time here for true treasures?
Or has he bought into the lie that he owns real estate in Time’s garden park?

‘Thank you for banking with us’

My fingers move of their accord. Cash in hand, I hold the physical equivalent of my time. I stroll on still lost… in thought trains.

Like, are we living or dying slowly?

And what is breathing if life is lived in beautiful moments?

Why does it come in cycles of the same patterns?

Are we living lives once lived?

…car honk and I remember to find myself.
Here.
On the road home.

Kinda like life, right?


And then, at 12:38 PM, catch a glimpse of what MeerahZoe was saying during the conversation:


This in itself is not a bad thing.
I’m a mental health advocate, and I know that self care is not selfish.
I also understand the human impulse to defend what we feel or are experiencing.

I was actually talking about the often masochistic need we have to hold on to pain even when we know it is crippling.


I have to say, I understood both their stances…but I just wrote on at 1:53 PM, probably with the mind to de-escalate the matter:


Black gems;
– made of what I used to call trash
– make me valuate my answers
– prayers sneaking outta coffins
– studded both my belt and cufflinks

What else?

I didn’t heal when you hugged me
I felt hate from my sulking
But I knew that was not important
I’m glad you haven’t kicked the bucket
Glad you haven’t kicked the bucket

Big wolves leaving bite marks
Farm hands turning lone sharks
My heart used to have cracks
Now it’s powdered like its custard
So I give it up to Father
Me I know he’ll take me farther
Speaking healing past the storm’s parts
Wash my eyes with water God spat


After a bit of silence, probably because I write mouth-shutting stuff, at 3:45 PM, Hanna Azubuike:


Please stop burning my eyes with how one should mourn a loss. You have healed, you have forgotten the pain you went through. Help with the Word if you must say something. Let her fully heal before you share how you mourned yours. You will never understand the closeness either. Let the eyes be dried before you point the picture and the different colors.


And at 5:49 PM, Imani Dokubo finesse with a few words from her beautiful:


Things die quickly when plucked from their source.
Root, the plants source.
God, the believers source.

Regeneration never happens without a source.


At 6:44 PM, the final freestyle of the day was delivered by Cap founder, Ezeonyeka Godswill, an enigmatic leader whose words always clear the air:


Writing is vulnerable. To war with the worlds in your mind so that you can birth words is sacrifice. We bear in our hands bleeding mysteries as we concise conscious constellations into careful captions. We know not all is said but what must have been said. The world wonders at writers not because it cannot produce as they do but because writers learn through the pain of introspection how to transport seedlings of thought across mind so that on the winds of communication the death of a world can find regeneration through the planting of these words.


Enough said; REGENARATE NOW, In the name of Jesus!!


Authors:
Chika St. Davnique
MeerahZoe
The Niel Quchi
Hanna Azubuike
Imani Dokubo
Ezeonyeka Godswill

Regeneration on Women’s Day

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Hello, My name is Niel and these are the ChristaPoet Freestyle Sessions. This year, ChristaPoet wants to give you a special perspective to our freestyles. At first, some of these poems were published as stand-alone pieces. But in actuality, each poem is an untitled part of a freestyle session. Each freestyle session is given a topic for the poems to address.

I had told you in the first part of this piece, that these poets wrote 18 poems on this day, 25th February 2022. I want to do a sort of back and forth with the period that I draw pieces from. This time, I am continuing my account of a more recent time.

The topic is Regeneration.

And I bring you Zoe Ziva, writing at 10:33am, on the 25th of February:


That same Spirit that raised up Christ from the dead, heal your mum and heal my pastors wife too.

Vitalizing, regenerating, nothing broken, nothing missing.

Cardiac arrested, arrested the evil one, our prayers will not cease, this peace will not rest in this, for she will see the light of day on earth, stand on her two feet, her memory will reboot, amnesia would not be a name.

Your mum’s eyes will regenerate, God’s healing balm still has Gilead on it, now it resides in our heart.

Our faith will rise, our hands lifted, we do not forsake our own mercies, we choose to trust in The King rather than observe Lying vanities.


Since I’ve been younger till now that I’m grown, I’ve always seen that faith always wins.
Even in our time, this testimony would be so.

Rejoice.


And at 11:05 AM, the Elegant and Elusive Imani Dokubo:


I join you in prayers
I agree with you in faith
Her sight is restored
Her healing permanent

She sees clearly
The goodness and mercy of our God never runs out on her

We rejoice not in the future but now, for the end we have seen clearly.


Again, let me paint the context. So, one of us, Ade, had just written a freestyle spurt in which he indicated that his mother had just undergone surgery. We all subsequently dove into praying for her through our poetry…very touching stuff.

At 11:08 AM, Aebube with the kiss kiss emojis, wrote:


Just a turned ignition and boom
Men set off in tripedation

It’s not a holy feeling, the jitters are killing slowly
It made me sorrow only

Tell me I’m going to heal really quick from this fear and trepidation, this isn’t some perdition
right?

Of course it isn’t
For Christ paid the ultimate price so I’m forever freed from its shackles

My life is not on hold I’ve been unshackled from the chains of fear, the word alone regenerates me

For he has not given me the spirit of fear but of sound mind and power

Who I’m to agitate about tomorrow’s out come when Yahweh is there

He is the way, the truth and the life, for him alone I mount with wings like an eagle yet do not faint

My strength renewed, no cent used.


She posted that, and after a few minutes, at 11:50 AM, she continued:


They tried to bury me
Not ones
Not twice
For the third time I’m being covered with earth

Fascinating right?
So much they didn’t know
Ohhhh men carefully calculate

With vigour they plan our undoing yet
Ignorance deprive them of their sight

They can’t see right
Though all calculations seemed just perfect

They buried themselves and thought they’re done for, here we’re spouting a leave

With our lips pouted in mockery
They’re left in awe
Our God’s way smarter

We’re his seed buried to regenerate
Just like him we rise
Again and again we’re crowned with Victory to stay above and not beneath.


And then, my darling MeerahZoe, wrote this at 11:53 AM:


What’s more beautiful than a birth?
A rebirth.
The beautiful promise of a second chance
A do over when you’re done over

Twice I’ve lain in the fetal position
The first time oblivious to my existence
The second time wanting to end it

See pain is selfish, you only feel it when you’re self focused.
The man who invented diversional therapy would be out of business otherwise.

Twice I’ve lain in the fetal position
The first time oblivious to my Father’s company
The second time too self-seeing to see Him

It’s easier to ask for a break and a do over,
Blaming the God who supposedly didn’t give it
Than it is to see that the new life He gave you is all the practice you need to be reborn

But pain is selfish, and I would rather reject His comfort than put in the work.
Our faith walk however is sometimes like school, you don’t get past any stage without doing the work.

Standing on my feet again, I hope the sight of the ground from this angle is enough to remind me the next time
That a righteous man can fall seventy times
And rise up seventy times.


Today’s article has consisted strictly of women. I did not really plan that it should be so, but so it has come to pass. Today also happens to International Women’s Day. It makes me wonder, is there a local women’s day?

We hail the woman; for her tenacity, patience, kindness, beauty and industry.

Happy International Women’s Day


Authors:
Zoe Ziva
Imani Dokubo
Ebube
MeerahZoe

Regenerate Now

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Hello, My name is Niel and these are the ChristaPoet Freestyle Sessions. This year, ChristaPoet wants to give you a special perspective to our freestyles. At first, some of these poems were published as stand-alone pieces. But in actuality, each poem is an untitled part of a freestyle session. Each freestyle session is given a topic for the poems to address.

Normally, I would take us back…

We were at July 2021. But I have decided that we going through poems pretty fast. Plus, do you really enjoy such a long of poems?

Who knows?

Please comment.


So today, I am taking us to February 25th, which was just Last Friday. The topic was
“REGENERATION”.

I started at 9:36 AM:


I heal cause I dwell with the Christi
Stab wounds from the practicality
And I do not stop to speedometer, I just get with it
And Yahweh it is
who took the U from my Mourning, F from my Falling, and love is my winnings


And Godswill-sama landed this revert at 9:50 AM:


Quiet nights tell tales of noisy days lost in the silence of rested busyness. The death of a day is so comforting that we look forward to doing nothing as we lay in surrender to our humanity in hopes that we will rise again. We will work again. We will hope again and the day will come again.



And there, at 9:51 AM, was Ade:


I pray my heart is fertile enough,
To plant seeds of faith in my mind,
And water it with prayers and words from the Bible,
I pray dead cells receives a fresh breath of life,
Stones removed from her line of sight,
If three days was enough to conquer hell and buy my salvation,
I bet it’s enough for a miracle to grow,
I pray one way or another,
It’s enough to witness a surgery,
Performed on my Mum’s eyes,
By the hands of He who formed man from clay,
I pray He regenerates her eyes using spit and mud,
For my knees won’t hold again,
Tired from lifting the heavy burden on my shoulders,
So I cry for help on bent knees,
Building lines of communication to God’s ears
I hope this prayer build’s my Mum’s faith
And if I don’t see a miracle performed before Monday,
I know He’s waiting in the theatre room,
Making sure no mistake is done as,
My mum goes through surgery to correct her eyes,
One way or another, I know she will have her sight,
Fully regenerated, fully healed,
My trust is built on nothing but God’s word
And this is my reality!
A prayer for Mum!!!


And this particular spurt change the group’s sentiment about freestyling that day. It had become a testy matter. Eveyone began to pray for Ade. Ofcourse I won’t post the prayers.



At 9:53 AM, I continued:


I threw a smile to my foe and he said,”Cheers.”
I have lived with my pain for a few years
Onlookers point fingers at the pointless
“Do you want to be healed?” I said, “Lord, Yes!”

And I strayed, all the dogs came for megabytes
No time when I no dey take prayer fight
Back to back victories and a can of Sprite
If you’re thinking Chibuikem, you are very right



I will stop here for today. There were 18 poems from this day…just for the record.


Authors:
Niel Quchi
Ezeonyeka Goodwill
Ade