When I say l love you, it is with the love of Christ. It means that I value you, respect you, and believe in you. I love you!
Lady Nancy
Tag: believe
Out-Heal the Loss
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
Regenerate Now
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
Speak the Word, not the situation
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, the topic should be “Bearish moments with God”. This article is dedicated to the times when I would put out a topic and no one, sometimes including myself would write on it. I would normally feel kinda bad.
For example, July 16th, 2021, at 10:58 AM; I declared the topic “Responsibility”
And at 11:11 am, I wrote:
Woke from my slumber, no it wasn’t a party
Woke since this ember, so twas the Father that lit me
Wow, call the members of the Body he bears with
What could be the purpose of a purr posing at me
Like iz me that should walk
On the waters of course
I resay what he says
Make the best of the worst
Res…ornate with the truth
His conduct will result
Make disciples and be
Work my spiritual glutes
But no one wrote back.
It was just that kinda day.
On the 6th of August, this happened again. Topic was “Relationship”, yet no one…
The next day, 7th of August, I wrote at 5:07pm
Fire in my eyes, Water on lips
I get low on highs, But I let The Lord eclipse
And I’ve learned not to bless in human cursive
What’s related to success’s successes is relative
New singles cooking, tell the Nerd to turn it all up
I would get conceited but I pray too much to mess up
Feeling like Paul except hebrews more disciples than me
God got babies I’m a nanny and the job is paying
Z why I’m peeps all over Lagos if they’re saved
Fire in a rain storm
Burning all your doubts
Argument and miracles, pick your court
But we don’t play, we make sure while they make mouth
What’s the line between dinner and a dead man
The hope that won time by creating it
Call the one name won names in him
Saturated God-ness The Reason and the Risen
But it wasn’t until the following day, 8th of August that Godswill and Zoe Ziva.
4:08 PM, Godswill wrote:
I have seen God work words into wielding swords
How he bends thoughts to elemental awe
Creator Original causing courses that confounds clarity
I am witness to million miracles happening within seconds
Mighty demonstrations of power hidden from human vision
I am one of 7 billion distinct wonders
Travelling on an inexplicably perfect positioned planet
Forget it joor
God is awemany
And he did not stop:
Love toh sure
You can always bank on it
Perfect, present, pleasing, personal and poise
Love that exists to ensure eternal exemption from wrath
Giving, glorious, graceful and gracious
Love that loves us into loving
Tender, thorough, true and trustworthy
Chayeee
I joined in at 4:43 PM:
Testy testimonials testifying to tasting fire
Tess or Tracy, the test is changing text to power
Trace back to the prophets and testimonies older
I’ve been with the bandwidth of routers that avoided God
Still he found ignoring hypocrisy absurd
The soldiers want a soldier made out of the broken hearted
But my God is still turning dead shit into Harpic
At 6:21 PM, Godswill took back the microphone:
Prince of Peace that passes all understanding
Cos we shouldn’t be in the valley smiling but check who’s riding with us
I’ve got Shepherd vibes all around me, my victory is unforced
God is creator and life to me
Sustainer and I rely on him
Father and guide to him
Lover so reckless, he died for me
And he went on: What a saviour
Seizing sons off Satan’s sinful sizzle
What a judge
Justly he justifies us as just men through Jesus
What a daddy
Daily dishing doses of divinity to delivered deviants
What a God
At 7:14 PM, the Abuja princess Zoe Ziva jumped into the fray:
The One whose throne has emerald circled, whose throne can never be overthrown
Whose voice makes the thunder shiver, clapping in awe and awesome wonder
The one whose whisper is as soft petals kissing the layers of my skin, still His voice is like music harmonizing – a beautiful symphony.
The one whose love makes life take a seat, a sheet and pen, jotting down in tears.
The One so patient, loving, gracious and kind still regardless of His many possible options, He chose my heart for His chair
And finally, at 7:22 PM, behold Eremi:
God doesn’t hide behind emojis
Sending a ‘lol’ when you do something funny? When he laughs, distance doesn’t fade the echoes it leaves on your soul
He doesn’t send you a grinning emoji to tell you He’s pleased, Your whole being feels it.
He doesn’t send you a ‘happy sweat’ when there’s a close call. For He’d gone way ahead of the situation to drop the alarm, sending angels in place to make further restrain, and even amidst man’s stubbornness, he still stretches out to deliver
Ain’t no need to send you ‘hearts’ or a smiley face with hearts when your heart already feels his syncing
When you desire comfort a black heart isn’t what he sends, He speaks in you with a voice peaceful amidst raging thoughts. Even an emoji hug can’t give a little spark of such peace and when he hugs you, the warmth chases the cold of loss
He takes no chance at leaving distance to distort His Care-message
His every emotion sends frequencies audible enough for even the hair on your skin to pick
God doesn’t hide behind emojis
He tells you to your face that He loves you
What’s the worst you can do?
No? He receives your ‘No’ with ‘I will never leave you nor forsake you’
And if he ever had an emoji, it would be all the works of his hands, upon which he poured his essence. So if you ever feel distant from Him, look around you…let the wind remind you of words and when you hear his voice in the roaring of the waves, see his light in the bright rays of the sun. Believe his words when he says He’s all around you and within you.
There will be days in your life when…you want to just shut down either because of negative feedback.
Speak the Word!
Not the situation.
Authors:
The Niel Quchi
Godswill Ezeonyeka
Eremi
Zoe Ziva
Vital sines
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.
So, still on Vital signs, which was where we stopped yesterday, I told you I’d be back today with the rest and here I am.
TC came in 9:02 AM:
*Vital signs*
If its of utmost important
Then I need to know
If it’s needed by my body to keep on living
Then I need to know
What’s this maintenance I hear of that is invigorating to life
I need to know
I hear of signs that provides
critical information about my mortality
Pulse rate checked
Respiratory rate checked
Body temperature checked
Blood pressure checked
Result says body is still fit to eat more red meat
But I’m still concerned
How does one check the inner man’s vitals?
I need to know
Yes and then Eremi came through, at 10:31 AM:
I ain’t a doctor ‘Niel
How am I going to get this nailed?
Body Temperature!
Sizzling Hot
Like a girl on fire
Burning down
Every thought
that thinks it’s higher than God’s love
I burn for God,
Rather He burns for me
Through me
As light and warmth
To a dark and cold world
And like the burning bush
I still ain’t consumed
Pulse Rate!
I dunno how this rates
I can’t even remember my dates
But I know there are days it’s faster
Days when I rage like Jonah
Or when like David I charge for Goliath’s head
Or when I feel so in love like Solomon that
I can’t control my beats
There are days when it’s slower
Those days when I hear
Peace! Be still
In other words
Be still and know that I am God.
Breathing!
In and out!
How many times now
It has become as one
The abundance of love as air
So present everyday that it’s ignored
Some abuse it
Some use it to violate others
Some don’t even know it’s there
Only unconsciously drawing
In and out
Nostrils as pencils
I choose to be aware
Of it’s invincibility albeit seems invisible
So I’ll consciously breathe
Knowing love is what I take in
And love is what I should bring out
Blood Pressure!
Little dudes called cells celebrate
Running here and there with platelets
All within the connecting tunnels- arteries and veins
They all seem to know why they celebrate
Unbeknown to the one they celebrate
Life! from the rates that dates back to when we were first celebrated
Life from a pulsating heart
But soon enough they get tired
So He who makes them excited
Provides another solution asides nature
Eternal life!
Revitalized by his broken body
And by His blood
Life unending
With cells never tiring
Having no plans to retire
An exchange that outlives time
That is the pleasure of this blood.
That now flows in me
Vital signs checked!
I believe that if you had read atny these poems on their own, you would get a part of the picture. Now you see them together, I think it’s a more wholesome picture. Tell us what you think, and see you next time.
Zest
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, I have two poems for us to pause with. Before we dive into another barrage of poems, let us lounge in a sort of respite, however induced.
Here is Chika St. Davnique, at an untold time:
I’m finding that in finding me,
I’m finding my poetry
Thick lines of metaphors and jagged dots of feelings
I’m finding my pain.
But also my smile
My random moments of sense
And constant state of goofy
Of naive expectations
Of happy
Of sentiment and all that nonsense
I’m finding moments preserved in time,
Of friendship, true and thick
Of love scorned
Of use and abuse
I’m finding my miracle,
My adventure
My colorful, loud mix and match
My wriggle and shake
I’m finding my happy
Maybe even my scribbles…
Opinions flow easier now.
Walls get replaced by glass,
Easily broken
Direct and clear,
I’m finding the girl in the garden
Though she was never lost
Just spent
And I’m remembering,
My poetry is me
And it’s breathtakingly beautiful
What would you say of your work? How would you describe your handling of your art?
I think that we should surround ourselves with support, love and strategic minds. But the truth is, we love who we love. This is not a submission to the dictates of whim and affection. But over time, those who show loyalty and solidarity gain our favor. But should you suffer emotional damage because you can’t say no to bad company?
Some of us find solace in our work; it’s quality, it’s reach, it’s growth…
Here is Uba, in an untold time:
Its weird when my pen and I don’t converse
Like we are in a long distance relationship
And these sheets too feel lonely
But we talk,
Seem like we were never apart
The cruise is smooth sailing
As thoughts begin to hit me like stray bullets
I could literally set my table on fire and still be on my job
Yeah, my pen has a loud mouth
Mouthing off all closet conversations
Our Pain, victory, trials and triumph
Above all telling tales of My father
So when I write;
I block my mind from the devil’s lies and here say
Shut my eyes not to see or hear what this world say
And only listen to his voice, My true sensei
That’s speaking his truth the most even in my low
So I put pen to paper to rewrite wrongs
Hold that pen on your left arm
As I squeeze out truth from it like a Python
Till this world know the point of my ball point and how much his word on your pen weigh
Yeah, and some of us weigh ourselves by our obedience to the Word. It gives back to us.
I believe that if you had read any of these poems on their own, you would get a part of the picture. Now you see them together, I think it’s a more wholesome picture. Tell us what you think, and see you next time.
Authors:
Chika St. Davnique
U.B.A.
Holy Fun Stuff
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.
On this particular day, April 9th 2021, freestyles started at 4:00 PM, under the topic “Holy”. I think it’s important to note that the writers and Editors of CAP are mostly working class people. Some of us attended the same university and know each other’s styles and historical progressions. And now we have each grown to take up deeper levels of our careers and deeper bonds with each other’s writing.
I kicked off the session at 4pm with this:
Busy Friday, up for air like I was diving
Made in Heaven and I am chosen like Joe Biden
God
Taught my hands to war and gave me tools for thriving
That’s how God do, I cannot be shy too
Yes he said he would do it
And I’m trusting him through it
All I needed was light, when I saw it I knew it
Old and dead was I, but His Word is renewing
He gave me Life after Earth, and the power for during
Set apart now, yes, you can call me Holy
Kingdom focused like a soldier when I tell his story
P
I’m past tense, and now I’m comfy with evangelism
And I don’t wait for Easter to tell the world Christ is reason
Okay, so there are times and seasons that Sitz im Leben these sessions. For example, this set is from the Easter period of 2021. A lot of times, some of us would simply draw lyrics from the context, and transpose that with the topic at hand. But some us, like me, would ignore the topic mostly or adhere entirely to it. This brings us to the next freestyle.
Nonso John, in my opinion, can’t be said to really be freestyling. He’s too practiced for that. He would write, edit, restructure, all that. At the end, his freestyles would be…
Just check this out; coming in at 6 minutes after 5pm, Nonso John :
I’m human.
Trust me, I am.
I wear my pants one leg at a time.
And, believe it or not.
I cry. I fall. Yes, I even fart.
Ew.
Sometimes I feel worthless.
Like collateral damage. Expendable.
But, come on. All said and done.
We all know an Old Shot’s a Nigger.
Once every day; twice on Sundays.
Barbarians and Predators
See them threaten to Terminate us.
But as imperfect as we are,
Our God don’t use no erasers.
Perfection is not me.
I’ve never claimed it.
But, He who called me?
Come on. Dude’s on Fleek.
Faithful. Holy.
For me, the level of perfection, is a mixture of annoying and intimidating. But that’s our Nonso John. And he was probably trying to stay simple the whole time. Either way, I, The Niel Quchi, continued the spree at 8:01pm:
I’ve
Long time been a faith fool
Grateful being saved, Dude
Living dead like Voodoo
But I’m just a branch he bears fruit through
And I fall sometimes just like the price of things
When i don’t recall the price of him
But he’s faithful as he’s always been
But he’s faithful as he’s always been
Amen. Very brief and to the point; but then, I wouldn’t say that this followed the topic. Xhika came up next… I forgot that this is not WhatsApp. So, in Christapoet, there is a lady known as Chika St. Davnique. I have to restrain myself from telling you her nickname within CaP. I spell her name with an ‘X’ where the ‘C’ is. Here is St. Davnique at 8:48pm:
I’ve not known many things
The result being many thorns
Many torns
Many turns
The world isn’t ideal you see,
We sea-saw every now,
Again,
Between here and hiding
Between there and finding.
And aren’t we all fake fools?
Confessing ideals but rooted in our reels
Our reals
Our ins
Our inch shallow depths
Aren’t we?
Hoping to high heavens that a faith full God stays real.
Stays reeled in
Riveted on showing us what’s real in us.
Even if we never find real in us.
I’ve not known many things,
But I’ve known Him to be true.
To be ALL, absent none,
Faithful and holy.
Yeah, a testimony of her experience of God’s holiness. Though I feel it is kind of normal to attribute holiness to God, in comparison to poetizing the concept in and of itself. But truly, what better description of Holiness is there than Yahweh himself. I came through again at a minute after 9pm. I remember I was walking to Mindsmith’s house as I wrote this…Yeah, I like to walk and write:
I passed by a guard sitting unguarded;
Who starts life without the One whence life started?
Giving birth in a trance don’t make you transparent
Saying “Apparently” won’t make you a parent
But I think the ball is passed
Textbook poetry is fast
Four lines the structure
If it was on Twitter, who’d follow Instructions
And next was the very beautiful Zoe Ziva. I think Zoe should be at least a year old in CaP by the time of this article. Here she goes, on “Holy”, nine minutes later, at 9:10pm:
First created as dust, with the gene of him who failed, I looked at myself as worthless and the least of righteous like, even if I tried my best to be the “most righteous” it was like a filthy rag?
I gave up!
But before I was through, He tapped me and said He’ll rather be the One to give up His life just so I can be recreated no longer by dust but by Breath(The Spirit)
And He did.
On the cross He whispered “It is Finished”
So there! I was created a new being and Gene, no longer traced to dust but now to The One who recreated me.
So when the devil tried to deceive me telling me I’m not worth it and good enough,
He tapped me to remind me; and all I could hear was:
Faithful, Holy.
I like that her poem spurt was inherently evangelische. I was writing all the whole, in the background, still walking. So at 9:26pm, I wrote:
Up the hill to Smith’s I walk
NEPA’s taken light ofcourse
But i won’t call them unfaithful
Because they get no faith from us
I have found I have tailor my ways
So that nothing takes the time I need for giving him praise
Can you just imagine who was giving us chase
He whose words freestyled ants and milky ways
Would you look at that?! Beautiful right? And at 9:50pm, Eremi struck the last chord of the day:
Yesterday was quite cloudy
It felt like the travelling rain
Decided to stop at my terrain to greet
But it didn’t
Flashes of lightning like swords fight pushed though the thick black clouds
It was an intentional scare I thought
And my thoughts slept with me
Now I’m thinking about it
How is a God whose voice is louder than the thunder speak so softly
That you could hear distinctly in stillness?
I remembered a time
I also wondered what lights really is
You know
Stepping into that flash of light as in the lightning
Light in light?
No shadow of turning?
How is that even possible?
How will light so fill a place
That it will cast no shadow
Hold it! What could Holy mean?
All white, flurry, smells like sweets?
Holy!
Set apart!
Yes, I later learnt what it meant
Separated for the divine
Who is actually The Vine
The one from whom we got our alias – the Branches
I was told that the Vine isn’t just a fruit tree
That it’s a tree that creeps
Better put infiltrate
It takes over
Just give it time
It’s so beautiful that after it’s done with the host
All you can see is vine
Branches faithful to the course
Actually bring forth the fruits
Occupy till I come
For you are a chosen generation
A holy priesthood
They are the ones
That become the Light in the light
The ones that there is also found no shadow of turning
God is light, in Him there’s no darkness
You are of God Little Children
The glory of the vine had made us one
As they are one
Abiding in Him as He is in the Father
How did I start this gist?
I hope it still rains today
Who knows it could make me think of another gist tomorrow.
And that concluded a beautiful session of really nice pieces. What do you think of each poem?
I believe that if you had read any of these poems on their own, you would get a part of the picture. Now you see them together, I think it’s a more wholesome picture. Tell us what you think, and see you next time.
Authors:
Zoe Ziva
Chika St. Davnique
Eremi
Nonso John
Neil Quchi
The 2nd month of April
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 the a freestyle session. Each freestyle session is given a topic for the poems to address.
Unfortunately, I didn’t save this session’s topic, so I would love it if you leave a comment telling us what you think this season should be named. The first piece came at 10;22am, from the one and only Eremi:
To the one
Who was still forgiving sins
While hooked on the cross
By the nails of those whose eyes were veiled
Too blinded by their deeds
They could not see the grief
For the fulfillment of what’s to be
He said nothing against them
And for their salvation
He pleaded
‘Father Forgive them
They do not know what they do’~
Love’s perfect excuse
To the one whose death
Not only caused an earthquake
But struck death with a deathblow
Cracking the graves open
So life floods the veins of the dead
And breath, their nostrils
If only death knew
There’d be a prison break
He’d have opposed the crucifixion
But how would they know
They were blinded by their deeds
They could not see the grief
To the one whom hell couldn’t hold
Because he was too hot for the heat
Too strong to be pull down
For 3 days Hell saw Hell in Hell
Its principals displayed in shame
The Lord of the Worlds
Went to the lows with His judgement
To take back
What man lost
And to give ’em a taste
Of what His offsprings will do
To the resurrected one
who has reconciled humanity and divinity
Our eternal link to eternity
And our surety for divine royalty
Our High Priest
The one
Whose coming brought hope
Whose death brought redemption
Whose resurrection brought victory
Whose ascension brought the Holy Ghost
And when He comes again
It will be to take His own
To our resurrected King and Priest
The effulgence of God the Father
One with the Holy Spirit
To Jesus our Lord
Be the glory forever. Amen
That was a long poem. It feels like when you go to visit a rich or older person and You are planning to stay for a little while but the truth is that they determine how long you will actually stay. So you sit and enjoy their luxurious habitat. The piece also felt like a prayer. Next up, at 11:56am, Godswill must have lifted his head and saw the time and decided to jump in:
It is weird that bad can really mean good in this world
But we are shocked when power adorns humble clothes
In a generation hell bent on self gratification
It comes as heresy to think that self sacrificing is key to satisfaction
Enter Easter
The makers melodramatic response to man’s malady
Helpless, lifeless body of a condemned man on a cross
The picture of a sovereign God-king winning wars unknown
Victory did not look like they expected but he was never working with their standards
And that is Godswill for you. He likes to be thoughtful. He is Christapoet’s founder and a great friend of mine. Speaking of me, I wrote next, mixing English with a bit of pidgin English. “nielquchi” at 12:09:
Been a while since I freestyle wrote
Inspiration never left me though
People always want a new dish
Yet their hunger never changes
Been at home trying to plan ahead
I speak life in my charger head
And my plugs let me owe or buy ahead
I think Grace has gotten to my head
And Shalom told me ’bout a waist problem
I showed her power wey dey waste problem
Issues up, I speak a way through them
Blessings rush ya, no be Putin
Ok, so I can be very… starry eyed, when I write. I just let go and let the words flow, even when I am given a topic. But no need to be defensive. Next up at 12:44pm, was Godswill again. This time, he wrote using my style. That conversational tone…check it out:
Daniel made me think of authority
Told my mind there is a place to reach with my dexterity
Yet I am reminded that freestyles are fun when I read Daniel’s piece
Here is to the skilled master hand
We write to preach, inform and understand
That’s like a swordsman is with his blade
We freely wield words with authority no one gave
So much fun!! And that’s that freestyle spirit. When you are so practiced with a skill that you can play with it. Well, I didn’t see his spurt till much later in the day. And when I did, I wondered why no one had replied. I wrote next, at 4:21pm:
Calm down
We are soldiers. Soldiers, calm yourselves and read the battle.
The world is so designed to take your guns and kill your mettle
To freeze your fingers, make you deaf to simple calls of duty
And I’m no captain but I took the oath and know the beauty
What’s a devil to a son,
Or an ailment to a shot of Holy Ghost power screaming “You are Healed”? Oh Lord!
What’s a heart before the Word, or snakes and scorpions creepy-crawlies sneaking through my affairs? Oh Lord!
Calm down
We are monsters; Morning Stars risen from a night of lifetimes…
The times and trends may shuffle but My King never lies.
Yes I bathe in glory and I count my points in won souls
When they saw my dreads in heaven, Jesus said, “I told you!”
What’s power to the Abba, or tycoon to a typhoon?
Jonah told me when you’re drowning, even fish are friends too
What’s depression or despair to the Spirit-led
We are pencils in his hand, mine is spirit lead
I almost want to take screenshots of the group’s reactions to some of these pieces, but I will leave it to you to show us how pleased you are. Kindly leave us a comment and like and share also, so that your people can be blessed in enjoying Christapoet freestyles.
I believe that if you had read any of these poems on their own, you would get a part of the picture. Now you see them together, I think it’s a more wholesome picture. Tell us what you think, and see you next time.
Authors:
Eremi
Ezeonyeka Godswill
Neil Quchi
Christ a poet 