Amazing Grace

Amazing is the grace
That has raised you from the grave
Granting access by the body broken
Of the one who only could have endured being broken
That you would be pieced together
And by the blood
Of the one who could spend it
Just so you’re bought back.

Amazing is the grace
that has called you amazing
And has made to shine, your face
Amidst a world that darkness strive to thrive
You, Grace has lifted and called light

Amazing is the grace
That will not let you fall
It will lift you up your face
High above the gloom
And cause you to behold the looming rainbow
It’ll whisper might to your heart
And endow your night with a starry glow

Amazing is the grace
That has called you
Even more amazing is the one
Who has given this grace graciously
He has called you His beloved
And can’t bear to see you lost.

PearlyThoughts
©2021

Optimist Stare

I see the day so crystal clear
In the midst of the Darkness scare
I see the future, bright and fair
Though the glimpse of hope is rare

Threats of terror, here and there
Stampede seems to gain it’s flair
Foes and allies, set their snare
Hands on deck to throw the spear

As the hassle drags on near
I pray God’s guidance wraps our
sphere
And if my reflex detects fear
I dare my heart to face the Bear

When words of battle stirs the air
I breathe out peace to the atmosphere
Amidst the travails and despair
My eyes won’t lose the OPTIMIST STARE

King Uwe
© 2020

The Sling

A mere sling it may seem..
That was what it looked to me..
Till its targets were never missed..
A bear and a lion it killed at once..
Maybe it is not what it seems..

A mere sling it may seem..
Yet it seems to save the meek..
The helpless and the weak..
And the gentle sheep I keep..
Maybe it is not what it seems..

A mere sling it may seem..
Yet its targets were oppressors,
He who comes to steal, kill and destroy..
The bear, the lion and the giant..
Maybe it is not what it seems..

A mere sling it may seem..
But, not to me anymore..
For I see not an object..
But an epitome of God’s love and power..
It is the Shepherd’s blood.

Amarachi Angela Ebisike
© 2020

WILL YOU BE?


The trickle of salted water
Opened up the flood gates of its tap
The fiery gaze of hurt and pain
Like boiling blood
Will you be the hands to wipe off?

The bleeding of the shape I call love
The grief of the cut in two
The loss of the pieces fixed to it
Will you be the one to mend?

Like stones hurled at one
The weight you can’t bear
The pricks it leave behind
Of fear, of poor esteem
Will you soothe my ears?

Steps higher steps above
In doubt and fear
With skills but no grit
Will you be the one to urge on?

My love my perfect
Imperfectly perfect
Frail, grace and calm
Will you hold my hand?

When my eyes are covered with fear
And my hands quiver in despair
When my Feet drown in doubt
Will you be my Anchor

When the day wears a black gown
And the Sun refuses the smile
Hiding the face of the moon
Will you be the voice hope?

Oraegbu Philipa Ada
Olaoye Adeleye
© 2020

Barren Mother

I have an empty well of a belly.
My womb has known nothing but dying blood all my living years.
I have thought of no one but myself,
Fed no one but myself,
Placed no one before myself,
How do I have a womb except it was made to bear another, and yet
I have no idea what it means to pour a part of myself into another.
“A breast feeding mother?”
That’s a foreign name to me.
“A bread winning father?”
Who dares call me?
I am my own hero,
My own salt,
My own light in a shady place,
Come with me and I’ll lead you into the darkness.
I’d snuff the life out of my light because I do not want to share it.
I’m an evil already happening,
A menace waiting to be uncovered.
My tactics are new everyday
Yet my mind is old.
I am a dirty, dirty soul with a clogged up heart and a rigid body.

This is why I have come before the Rock of Ages,
Before The fire that purifies without consuming to ashes.
My tears produce more salt now than I have ever thought to produce.
I do not know when I ever took lessons from the ocean
But my ill will like waves come crushing over me.
I am caught up in my own dirt web,
Spun in my own fear.
I have come to you as a barren womb in need for a child.
I was born to be mother, now may I know a child?
I have come as a fruitless tree in its season.
As hungry fire,
I’m desperate.
As a docile branch,
I submit.
I accept defeat.
Let your rains fall on this arid land again, Lord.
I admit nothing was ever my own;
As I am left with nothing now I am reminded where I come from.
Give me one child, Yahweh ‘tis All I ask.
Surprise the quick-to-conclude with Your quick-to-deliver.
Let them know when their calling-me-barren tongues call me mother,
Let them know from every side of the flipping coin earth,
That You make the Barren Mother.

Adaobi Chiemelu
(c) 2018

False-Truth

I’m not good enough,
Daddy is taking Ada out for the third time because she aced her exams and I did not,
It’s the 4th time I’m being dumped for the better one who happens to bear my second name,
Yes! I took the pain to please my team and they chose David instead to take the lead,
Right now, I can’t look my wife in the face because I was not strong enough to rescue our only son before the car exploded in my face,
It’s 5 of 5 times I gave my opinion only to be overlooked by Tunde my coworker,
Who later brushed it up at the board meeting and was given a cool offer,
I even bet my life savings on the victory of my soccer club and the other club won,
And now I remember that it was momma who never believed a word a say because of the lie I told when I was two,

So, before I take my baby steps to death,
let me tell you that life has left me bullied by these thoughts and actions and betrayals and my pride with many rejections,
I even resulted to alcoholism but.. wait,
My religion abhors it so I’m formerly depressed,
These are the few I can tell,
I don’t want to tingle your ears,
And so far, all gesture given to me have been a clue for my escape away from this wicked world,

This was my life until I met one who told me I was made for so much more,
“Though the world’s pressure be heavy on me?”
But one sure word,
“Though I have been tagged as a sore looser and my dreams are dying”
But one true word,
“Though the stem of a tree be cut off and it’s roots wither but with the scent of water…
..That tree will grow again”

So before you pull the trigger to your brain,
Or drink that mixture,
Or have a last look at the beautiful skies as you sink in to the deep,
Or tie that rope to your neck,
Or write your last letter,
Give me the chance to rescue the hero in you,
Let me a minute to whisper to you that you are the one the skies have been waiting for,
Allow me to give you this scent of hope that there’s one who believes in your breath,
Your scent, your accent, your color, your posture, your smiles,

I mean your tears a so treasured so much that every drop sends a signal to the one who created you,
Truly you’re the apple of his eyes,
And these misdeeds are remodeling you into a masterpiece,
Your past do not define your future,
You are equal and more to that problem you’re facing,
You’re the champion waiting to happen,
So don’t give up, hang in there!
And just before another ‘false truth’ comes knocking at your mind’s door,
Accommodate this one truth,
“You are good enough!”

Azubuike Hannah
© 2018

DON’T CAST THE STONE

All scattered in the street,
Visible to every corners,
Dedicated to the rain and sun,
Just like obeying the clarion call,

They wish not for this course,
Longing for strength to rise,
But nature held them bend,
Cast not the stone on them,

Give a smile to them,
Stretch forth an arm to them,
Love them with words to bear,
Bless them with gifts till they blend,

They are the beggars we see,
Let’s love them as equal,
To show Christ we love,
Till he comes as a beggar in the night.

Oladayo Joseph Okelola
(c) 2018