What Would’ve Been

Life would’ve been a romance if Adam was home
And Eve didn’t try to be woke.
We would’ve walked the length and breath of the earth
Without being broke.
We would’ve plucked flowers and laid on grassy sheets
Gazing up at the most beautiful sky.
Life would’ve been a romance if she didn’t want what she already had.
If he was there to remind her what they already are.


He would’ve taken a walk with her deep into the woods;
Stopping at the zoo and playing a game of ‘catch me if you can’ in the cool.
She would’ve taken a drink of water from the purest of rivers
And watched the sun set from its bank.
She might’ve been reminded of what they already had.
And we would’ve stayed the same, feeling nothing of shame


Life would’ve been a garden, green with life and red with love.
Children would’ve stayed innocent and grownups competent.
The wild would’ve not preyed on the tamed.
Evil would’ve not been retained.
Life would’ve been a romance
A walk in the park
A camp around the fire
A picnic at the beach
And a kiss under the stars
Life was meant to be a romance.

Ijeoma Obi
© 2020

Crippled Mind

A farmer caught a pigeon
Inside a cage, he nurtured it
Now, the farmer to the bird, was mean
He deprived it of life’s necessities.

The bird was kept in the house
Denied access to sunlight,
It grew up believing in the non-existence of light
After all, it never saw the outside world.

Years later the farmer died
And the farmer’s son, aloud said:
“I have no need for this bird
It is old and as good as dead”

Out he took the cage,
Its door he opened expecting flapping wings,
The bird which should have flown in rage
Stood there, paralysed with astonishment.

The farmer took the bird out of the cage
And carefully set it on its feet
The bird with wings flew not
Its mind was already crippled.

Many of us are like this proverbial bird
JESUS CHRIST has set us free
But still, we hold tight to the past
Refusing to let go of a slave’s mentality

We all have been redeemed
Let’s free ourselves from an old slavery
Let’s soar to higher heights
And not be crippled by our pasts.

Ajegbomogun Olufunke
© 2020

Hello Fear

Hello Fear!
Dear dear! I know you well.
I saw through your charade especially the times you sounded like you cared.
Yet I gave you room in my mind.
Grace found me and faith came with him so there’s no more space for you.
You were never really my friend, for you held me back from being the best version of me.
You clouded my dreams and blurred my visions.
You made clever speeches about how you’re shielding me from disappointment and hurt.
Your truth is all a sham!
I’m free from your grip now and I know you, you’ll never give up.
But I also know your voice too well to open up again and let you in.
Take your walk of shame with every sense of pride you’ve got,
IT’S OVER!

Ijeoma Obi
© 2020

Who Am I?

I have sought a definition
A sentence that could give me full expression of who I actually am

Am I a girl?
Is my life best expressed in the gender
In the XX of my genotype
Or in the comely form of my phenotype?

Am I a youth?
The leader of tomorrow; the pillar of today,
Am I one of the millions of jolly fresh faced persons
Brewing with passion but lacking in knowledge,
Just hustling to make it?

Am I a Nigerian?
Do I get my identity from my southern roots
Trying to fit into the mold of societal stereotypes?

Am I a graduate?
Is that laminated certificate in my box my identity card
Such that I am quick to shove my titles in peoples faces
Using that as a basis for unhealthy comparison…
But deep down I know
I am not my profession and my profession is not me
So help me answer this question who am I?

Guys, it took a long time to realize who I was
To understand that I couldn’t find myself by looking inward
but looking outward
that I would only see my true reflection
when I look in His mirror
that my true life is wrapped in his death and glorious ascension
that my life is not about the external but the eternal

but that my real identity is in JESUS
not in gender or status or nationality or age or education or skill
so who am I?
I am a child of God, a joint heir with Christ
I am a spiritual, supernatural, extraordinary human being
Trust me,
I am not just a girl, I am not just a youth,
I am not just a Nigerian, I am not just a graduate, I am not just a poet…
I AM A CHILD OF GOD!

Damaris
© 2020

God’s Waiting Room

I hope I am able to achieve this
On the invisible canvas of your mind
All I have got are word paints and brushes
To paint a picture that speaks to you to
Stay in God’s waiting room

Ever seen a pregnant woman?
I guess you have
What do you think or know goes on in there?
A lot, right?
Growth, formation, connection
And I know you know it takes 9 months to get a birth

Ever compared that to your life?
You are like a pregnant woman
With the vision and the dreams you have in you
But just like the pregnant woman, you have got to wait
Wait to grow, wait to form, wait to connect the more, wait to learn, wait to unlearn and relearn

Here’s the important thing when waiting, your attitude.
God’s more interested in what you do while waiting than the waiting itself.
You are a being in time while God’s beyond time
You know now, you see now, but God knows the after now and he sees the after now
So when God gives you a word, a dream, a vision
You had better relax in his word remember he said, “wait though it tarries”

Elijah could as well have given up before the seventh time to see the cloud as tiny as the hand of a man
But he waited for his cloud of confirmation
So when it looks like you are tired of waiting, look out for the clouds of confirmation
Right therein his word because he is not a man that should lie.
So wait for it, for the vision, dream , word whatever you have been told cos it must come to pass.
And know that you are not the only one waiting, there a lot others,
God is preparing everything for you and you for everything
So grab a seat and wait in his waiting room until your name is called.

Phyl
©2020

Drive Past It

I stopped driving at 16 when I had my first accident. The cost of it all made me decide to let the keys go, like lovers on some bridge in Paris, after adding their locks to the teeming number that will cripple the bridge.

This is not a poem. And it is not about lucks or keys
or a kiss or about spoon feeding emotions
or trying to have a relationship
or driving a career worthy of a Fast and Furious adaptation or a Shakespeare narration.

This is to the one who has felt heartbreak close up but, like one of the blind asked to describe the structure of the elephant, will take my words with a pinch of salt. Add it to that part of your wound that a heartbreak caused, cover your cracks with it, do an Nsibidi inscription on your sensitivity.

Heartbreaks are bad for your Health.

Remember when I said I stopped driving, well, I will drive again, and again and again and again. That is how hearts get broken…and heal.

You love or trust or have certain expectations for/from people, their inability to meet up or match your expectations leaves you hurt, and now I have been summoned from Frankenstein’s grave to tell you this;

Don’t stop loving, don’t stop being optimistic, don’t stop expecting the best from people.

Don’t stop believing…
Don’t stop loving…
That is how hearts get broken…and heal enough to heal other broken hearts.


Ice Nwa Ǹkwọ
©2020

With These Hands

With these hands, I will write a hymn, a poem, and a love note,
Just to express the joy my soul feels.
From the gifts of which your word wrote,
And the ails of that which it heals.

For In his hands, are holes that I be made whole,
That I be free from the world and it’s ill
By his sacrifice I am a saved soul
And a co heir to his estate and will.

With these hands, I will lift his name on High
Above issues or powers that be
For your authority, no being can defy
The lord, there is no one as he.

In his hands, is joy, love and peace.
I shall forever bask in his embrace.
Forever anxious for nothing, my heart shall be at ease.
I live not by my being, but being in his grace.

Ini Brown
©2020

If All Were Medicine

IF ALL WERE MEDICINE

If all were medicine
Jehova Rapha would’ve retired
and left his theatre for vaccine

but
all weren’t about men’s abilities:

For all doctors had her contact, yet
her flow was as a pool –
the woman with blood issue.
but when to the Rabbi’s hem touched
the river ceased
and to her, received wholeness

If all were medicine
His stripes would be no more but useless
and thirty-nine lashes in vain

but
all weren’t about men’s discoveries

For Lazarus was ill
three days being buried to death
yet on the fourth, the man of Galilee cried
there in loud voice, he raised the dead
“loose him, let him go”

If all were medicine
there won’t be miracle
in the name of Yeshua…

But all weren’t medicine,
let’s shout “Jesus
and we’re healed!

Josh Oluwafemi Oloyede
©2020