Chest Knot

Force yourself to sit.
Force yourself to wait.
Force yourself to trust.
Force yourself to forgive.
Force yourself to laugh.
Force yourself to write.
You can’t help that you fuss yourself—
So force yourself to leave the shelf
and let your path praise the Lord.

Bring me home, bring me home, Lord.
I’m looking for a different satisfaction.
Norm told us to steal and keep eating,
The team disbanded to hunt for new stories,
And the show goes on; the sun circuits still.
I need to practice letting God choose—
For present comfort is no guarantee.

Bring me home, bring me home, Lord.
Footsteps prince me a path through the din.
Hands that held my back now applaud my stumbling—
Speaking of my stumbling:
I was sipping last ones, hoping that the first won.
And the show goes on; the trump is still blown.
All my medals rust before the changing times,
for You, Lord, were my only true possession.

Bring me home, bring me home, Lord.
These scars will follow me into victory.
Rooftop farming—aura wasn’t the only fruit.
I have witnessed enough to shrug from a cloud.
Lord, please take the pen again; write me back to right.
Outside Your Word, there was treachery that paralyzed.
For You alone are truth,
and Yours walk beneath a different sky…

…beneath a different why.

Bring me home, bring me home, Lord—
everywhere I am.

Godzniel
©2025

The Lover’s Recipe

While everyone around the world was basking in the euphoria of the acclaimed love day (Valentine’s Day), Penspeak Community UNIZIK got busy with their pens and spent the day reliving the nostalgia of God’s love.

The floor was thrown up and Delight blew us away with this piece;

 WHOSE ORDERS?

That a tiny acorn will make a mighty forest 
Wasn’t the loamy soil’s words to utter.
Dear child…I speak in voices as ancient as before.
I gave you gifts not like anyone else’s 
But you chose to be photographed through distorted lenses.
You followed rules written by hands you will never shake
Then ending at crossroads, you asked me “Lord what’s your take?
Those rules were written by hand…
Funny how you are ignorant to the power embedded in yours
You obeyed the “rites” discarding the “rights”
What a perfect mismatch you are!!
You were told to silence your own voice for the sake of the loud…
The loud voice said “conform” but in your heart you felt torn.
Torn between the needs of your soul and the rule you have been sold.
Is it freedom you seek or a cage in gold?
Bound by lines drawn by a mentally distorted ruler’s ruler
They said “follow” and you never asked why
You were wheedled to be fine with “just fine”.
They raised you to be small but your heart beats loud…louder than their expectations.
Dear child…if you would… listen.
The elders might call this rebellion 
But I call it my divine intention 
Your dreams and desires are my design
Your handwritten lifeline, mine to sign
Your steps are earthquakes in their shallow puddles
You are to build bridges where they said walls stood
You are not a footnote in their stories.
You are the headline yet they don’t want to see your headlines.
Prior to forming you, I knew thee.
I know your deepest sleep even your purest glee 
So, whose orders if not mine?

Mc Wisdom came in right after and dropped this;

GOOD FOOD

Just can’t wait until it gets to the plate
Aromas that dance, through a culinary state
Tenderly cooked, with love and with care
Each bite a story, beyond compare

The cutting, slicing, sizzling, crackling, mixing,
 a continuous process that lives you wanting and yawning 

Oh, the joy of good food, that brings us together
A universal love language,
The norming around the dinner table 
The joy and laughter that’s uncontrollable, that transcends this weather, and leaves you warm.

A taste of nostalgia, a hint of home.
Good food that nourishes the body and soul,
Makes you forget your problem for a moment, leaving you whole.

So, here’s to the chefs, the cooks, and the bakers
The farmers, the fishermen, and the food makers
My mom, dad, siblings, friends, family 
Thank you for the feast, for the flavours and the fun
Good food that brings us to the table, as one.

With the floor and curtains intact, Delight waltz in with so much inspiration and gave us;

HOSEA 2🥰

I was once yours, you were once mine.
But in the shadows, you slipped away,  
Chasing after lovers who didn’t care,  
Trading true love for a false comfort,  
An affair with idols, a broken vow in the temple of desire.  
You left me but every step you took, I felt it,  
Every kiss you gave, I tasted it.  
Your heart wandered, but mine stayed rooted,  
Waiting, holding on,  
Gripping the promise of what was.

But love is not blind– it sees the truth,  
And the truth cuts deep.
So, hear me now:  

I will no longer cover your shame,  
I will no longer veil your mistakes, for you’ve turned your back, 
And I must speak of the consequences.  
The gates will close, the blessings will fade,  
Your fields will wither, and your heart will ache,  
As the world you built crumbles beneath your feet.  
But in this silence, in this solitude,  
You’ll hear my voice again and I won’t leave you there,  

For even in the wilderness,  
I am here, I will allure you,  
I will call your name and I will take you back,  
Not as a servant, but as my bride.  
I’ll speak comfort to your broken heart,  
Restore the years you’ve lost to wandering,  
Your valley of despair will become a place of hope,  
Your shame will be washed clean,  
And the shame you once wore,  
Will be replaced with a crown of righteousness.  
I will lead you to a new covenant, A promise of peace,  
Where love reigns.
Where mercy is poured like rain on dry ground,  
Where my faithfulness holds you close. I will be your God,  
And you will be my people,  
And together, we’ll make all things new.  
The name you once wore,  
The name of betrayal,
Will be changed.  
You will be called “My Delight,”  
And I will call you “My Beloved.”  

Forever,  
And nothing will ever tear us apart again.

What a love! What a God! See you next month for another freestyle!

Authors
MC WISDOM
DELIGHT SHEKELS

Ode to Poetry

Oh poetry, art of language divine,
With words that flow, in meter and rhyme,
You paint a picture with each verse and line,
A tapestry woven, with thought so fine.

You give voice to what lies in the heart,
Emotions raw, made into art,
With rhythm and sound, you play your part,
To heal and comfort, from the start.

You take us on journeys to far off lands,
To meet characters, in your written hands,
You let us feel what it’s like to stand,
In someone else’s shoes, and understand.

Poetry, you challenge and inspire,
With truth and beauty, you never tire,
A spark that ignites, with a single fire,
Bringing wonder to all, higher and higher.

So here’s to you,
dear poetry, we sing,
With each word,
our hearts take flight
and wing,
With you, we soar, our spirits take wing,
You are the soul of language, the art it brings.

Tolulope Amao
© 2023

Goodbyes

It’s hard to say goodbyes
Always feels like a lump
Too big to swallow
Too hot on the tongue
Too sticky to spit out

Does Life play a trick on us
When it shows us love
When it watches us love
Then expects us to say goodbyes
Starting what it won’t finish
Because life never really ends

Here the comfort lies
When the Truth speaks
Pulling pictures to remembrance
All tagged with love and laughter
‘we had a good time together
I hope to see you again someday’

Pearly Thoughtz
(C)2022

My Shepherd

It’s in His nature to provide for me even when I don’t know what I want.

He feeds me with goodness and floods peace to my soul.

By His name, He restores me to sight each time I lag.

Even though I walk through hot coals with bare feet unending, He swallows up my fears in comfort with healing and gifts in His bosom.

He sets me up for royal treats in the darkest storms and redeems me with the outpour of his spirit and an overdose of merriness and joy.

Surely goodness and mercy follow me forever as I am now a host of His eternal spirit and life.

As the years draw nigh

With love shining in many forms

Like a rose among the thorns

I have come to understand and believe that everything written in the 23rd Psalm seized to be my responsibility the day I said YES to Him, my good Shepherd.

Imani Dokubo

(C) 2022

An awful conclusion

To falter is an option to be ignored right there when spurred.

But leaves an ‘I don’t care nod‘ instead of a step.

Air has made the balloon fatter while past failures still lurks around.

Know that purpose is a deep water.

Understanding will lure the fountain within not you standing so sure you have a brain to count on, with conscious efforts of kneeling be ready to birth a mountain.

“Where was that brain of yours when comfort zone stole time and left you pained?”

“Where was your brain when the added weight kept altering every step you took to catch up with the train?”

“Where was your brain when the candle within was quenched and you were drained?”

An awful conclusion it is, one propelled by absence of Divination.

The altar needs fire not water. Farther will age read unless a retreat is called.

The altar needs consistency not a ‘once in a blue moon visitor.’

The altar needs to be mobile not cold because the author won’t speak until visiting becomes hourly even though tagged odd

The altar will draw so much and won’t tire when on fire!

– Ebubechi
(c) 2021

The Bleeding Heart

The blood she shed was all her own.
She’d found no way to staunch the flow
For twelve long years.
The cost to her in doctors’ care
Was nothing to her shame and her enormous fears.
Unclean and thus untouchable
She knew she’d live and die alone in blood and tears.

The world had turned its back on her
And all she saw and all she touched was tinged with red.
Denied the right to worship God,
Denied the Temple courts by law, her soul was dead.
Denied all comfort, love of friends
And touch of man, she kept alone her blood-stained bed.

Her last hope lay in this new man,
But with her touch she’d make him, too, unclean, outcast.
And should she even hope for help?
Of all the people God might heal she was the last.
For it was God who sent the curse,
The blood and shame, the loneliness, through Laws He passed.

In spite of all these doubts and fears,
Mistrust of God, she took her chance – a touch unseen.
Then, Jesus, the untainted, changed the Law to Love.
Her world became new, fresh and green.

The blood He shed was all his own,
And flowing down it covered her and washed her clean.

Pamela Urfer
© 2021

LET’S MAKE MAMMA PROUD

The one; who sat and watched my infant head?
While I slept in your beautiful cradled arms.
The one who held me dearly, like a craft, never to be broken.
Pain is driven off in her arms, arms of love that never harms.
She cast away my fears and with loving warmth dries away my tears.
Her eyes are like stars to behold, they give me hope beyond despair.

When pain and sickness made me cry,
Touches from you made me smile.
I was nurtured like a plant to flourish,
Was polished carefully till I looked pretty and beautiful.
Guilty she felt when I had not gotten plenty,
Yet with care she made “this little” satisfy my every need.

Who taught my infant lips to pray?
Who trained me in the way of God and His word?
Told me I would have life less without having the Life of Christ.
Her love is incomprehensible, she calls it agape.
She encouraged me to be loving too because love never fails.
Never look back, heaven is before you. That is her greatest story.

When thou art feeble, old and grey,
I will be your strength, your fulfillment and comfort.
Your smile I will make as I feel your heart with joy everyday.
And one day emerge the man you are proud to call son.
I will take you to church even when you rest in peace.
But till then this is my piece for you;
MY MOTHER.

Adethatwrites
© 2019