We did

We did it
We makeshift our minds to galaxies

We did it
We mould worlds into words

We did it
We course curses into causes

We did it
We are responsible And able

We did it
Tis a privilege we call a hobby

We did it
And we’ll do it again

Ezeonyeka Godswill
© 2019

TALES

Tales,
Story!..story
By the hitting
Of the night’ light
On the sleeping-
Untroubled soil,
An assurance for another day,

Speaking
Of the hope
Of course unconcealed,
The elders’ failed,
god we call-falls on its slippery heels,
Codeines on a sleepy pills,
Given to these squanders
I mean-the poliTRICKians,
Paying you for our lives,
Edges up in the bigger-bitter collar
Which soon be tears-sucked,
We drink not
Water but crude oil
As species yet discovered,
Circumstance you wrought on us,

Though our waters contaminated,
We choose not to be
In all these,
Leaders of morrow
We live in are made!

Thank you!
Yours faithfully,
Tunde Michael

TM Sungs
©2019

You are the Right Size

Have you ever got a gift for someone, say for instance a pair of shoes and then after the razzmatazz of presenting them, you found out that you got the wrong size. It is quite an uncomfortable place, right? Here you are with a really nice gesture that somehow was cut short because not every information was considered or you were simply mistaken.

Of course this might have not been your fault for a variety of reasons, one of which include that you are human. Humans make mistakes, humans don’t always have access to all of the information.

However, God is not that way. When he was going to give this world the gift of you. He had all the information, he put everything into consideration and he made no mistakes. He created you to a perfect fit. You are the right size!

That is why you can not be like anyone else and trying to be is just an effort in futility. You were made specially for your purpose and God saw to it that you are the right size. For God so loved the world that HE GAVE YOU.

– Ezeonyeka Godswill
#NowThink

REMEMBER

There are days …
… when my bedroom is a cell
… when the sun has a frown
….When my words are to heavy to tell
…And my bed is quick sand pulling me into the ground.

There are nights…
…When the stars like everyone’s eyes, looks down on me
…When even the moon backbites
…When life crafts shame into a crown for me
…When even my candles lack light.

There are times…
…when life is a school yard bully,
a dictator,
an abusive partner,
an evil warrior.

On these days….
On these nights…
At these times….
I must remember,
I am more than conquerors.

Brown Da Poet
© 2019

LAUGH

Laugh, when your feet is aching
When your heart is breaking
When life storms seems to make your faith shaken.

Laugh, deeper than your pain
Louder than your fears
Laugh for he has taken your cares
and his joy is yours to gain.

Laugh, smile, jump and dance
Spare not these worries a second glance.
Laugh for your strife was won by his stripes
Laugh and let victory be forever your stance.

Laugh…

Brown da poet
© 2019

In Focus

One of the best things I have read in recent times was in Joyce Meyer’s words – “Life is in the journey, not the end”. This like many other variations of this wisdom tells us to not miss out on the beauty going on around us because we are so fixated on the goal.

Boy do I agree with this thought. However, just like every journey, sometimes you are going to look out the window and all you see is trees after trees… and then some more trees. It gets boring and soon enough sleep is the only option you are left with.

In this moment, you really need the end in focus. I think this why God is in the character of showing us a glimpse of what the end will look like, because times will come in the journey where you will question the use of the monotony you have to live with and when they do come, your eyes have to leave what is right in front of you be set on the things that are to come.

This in no wise suggests that the journey should not be enjoyed. However it should not be the focus, it should not be the inspiration. There is a point to all of this, an end, a purpose. Think about it often, plan for it and when life doesn’t make sense, remember you are on a journey to somewhere and it is worth all the trouble.

I wish you grace and strength in all you do. See you at the finish line!

– Ezeonyeka Godswill
#NowThink (2019)

Your pride

I searched her face for a sign: something, anything to convince me about the Principal’s statement a few seconds ago but there was none. I couldn’t feel my legs anymore as I dropped back into my seat and Mrs. Hakeem rushed for me.

When I got a call from the office of the Principal through his Personal Assistant stating that I was needed urgently, a lot of thoughts fled through my mind. I had just returned from lunch at the office when the call came in. I didn’t know what to think. Was Simisola sick? Did she have an accident? Did her father show up –as he had been threatening he would—at her school? It just didn’t cross my mind that Simi, my only child would be involved in bullying of any sort. So I was amazed when the Principal said, “your daughter flogged a child into coma.”

As soon as the call had dropped, I picked my purse and keys, locked my office and left the building in a haste. I only remembered on my way out to call Mr. John, a colleague, and ask him to tell anyone who asked that I was called at my daughter’s school.

The drive to Simi’s school that afternoon was filled with mixed feelings. Unlike the normal excitement and ecstasy I felt when going on the usual monthly visits, I was filled this time with fear and rage. What had happened to her? I feared. “Oh, is it that man, her uncaring father who had come to take her? I raged. Whatever it was, I would soon find out.

I hurriedly pulled over at the Visitors’ park and didn’t notice the windows were still wound down. The security tried to call my attention but I ignored him. It was Harmattan and there could possibly be no rains. The dry winds blew harshly on my face and on my thoughts. I was almost sure by now that it was her Dad, he had come for her.

As I walked to the Principal’s office, I met a few members of the staff. We exchanged greetings. Their faces wore expressions of sympathy and shame. My heart got heavier. I didn’t have an idea what the problem was, so I hastened my steps. In the office, even as the Principal tried exchanging pleasantries, I remained worried. I wanted him to spill the beans as soon as he could. It was until he asked that Simi and the house mistress, Mrs. Hakeem be called in that I began to think, it may not be her Dad after all. Yet I still knew it was a serious matter. I began praying inaudibly.

In a few minutes, Simi came in with head bowed, shoulders slouched and fists clenched in front of her. Mrs. Hakeem walked in, after her. It was then that the Principal started talking about why I was called. He started by saying that Simi had been a good girl. I nodded in panic and saw  Mrs. Hakeem nod too. Then, he said that he was disappointed in ‘my daughter’. She had flogged a 13-year old JSS3 student mercilessly. I sprang up before I knew what I did.

While I was still trying to understand where such behavior came from, he made the statement. “your daughter flogged a child into coma.” That was when I slumped back into my seat and began screaming, “Simisola Ogechi Akala has killed me.” “Madam, calm down, calm down Ma.” I heard Mrs Hakeem say as she rushed for me. Her plea wouldn’t console me.

After about thirty minutes, I am sitting in the car with Simi. I parked my car after I drove us a few meters away from the school gate.

“Simisola, what is your problem?” I ask, not looking in her direction.

My cheeks feel cold from the tears dried up by the harmattan wind and my eyes sting: hot and teary. She doesn’t respond. I pick the envelope that the Principal gave me. I didn’t open it then because he already told me its content- a suspension letter- but now, I open it and pull the letter out. I give it to her to read aloud. She does. I barely hear anything she reads because she is muttering the words.

When she is done, I take her face in my palms and look her in the eye. She begins to cry profusely. I let her go and ask her why she did it. She says the junior girl was rude to her and her classmates were looking to know what she would do.

“So it was your pride that put someone in the hospital and I have to foot the bills now. Eh?”

“She was asthmatic.”

“You shouldn’t have beaten anybody!!!”

“I’m sorry mum.” And she bursts into another round of tears.

“You are a child of God, Simi. Even though your dad is far away, which is best for us, you know how your dad…I point to the car roof, behaves. Love is God’s nature. It should be all you do and know. You would have let the junior go and reported her to the house mistress. Your classmates and some other students saw you right?” She nods.

“They would have witnessed for you. Pride is a very stupid emotion to act on. The Bible says God resists the proud and because you know God does not hate anybody, you understand that he hates such character and attitude. Everything done in pride doesn’t give glory to God. Why are we created?”

“For His glory”

“Good! You didn’t give God glory. You acted in the flesh!”

“Mum, I’m sorry.”

“I know. So what do we do?”

With a voice shaken from crying, belching at intervals, she said, “We will go and visit her in the hospital. I will use all my savings. You say what is best for us to buy.”

I hug her tightly, and say a word of prayer in gratitude for God’s word and His work in our lives when we let Him.

Kendra Okpara
©2019

Hello Ladies

They asked us out after the age we intended to marry
They begged us to wait until they were stable before we become soul mates.
Our hearts desires to be sisters to our daughters and sons have been crushed
How would our offspring understand us?
We’re left with the gate of loneliness when they leave or when he dies as the case may be.
But this was not how it was written…
They waited together and got their promise
Her clock got better with age even after menopause
She died before him and he was never lonely
So when God is on your matter it becomes an adage
It would always be done deal as long as God is on gear too.

Kapiché?

Azubike Hannah
© 2019