The Costs of an Opportunity

January 21, 2022January 21, 2022Leave a comment

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.

The first friday of the Month of May 2021, the 7th of May 2021, was that kinda day with a mighty fine topic. At 12:01pm, I announced the topic, “Opportunity Cost”.

Now, there are a few topics that left a mark in my mind for so long after they have been written on. Meet Opportunity Cost

Hanna Azubuike wrote in at 12:18pm, not a poem or spoken word…no, she wrote a little quote:

Opportunity costs constant practice of preparing for one.

It’s like that snake that eats its own tail. Not bad, I reckon. And her vibe bounced around until it 2:35 PM, Lady Nancy picked it up with the same vibe:

They say opportunity come but once
Once again I say it’s a lie
What does it cost God to create one?
And another and another?

See?

Same vibe, they both went for a flash of perfection. But behold, at 3: 30pm, I had something to say of opportunity cost:

Opportunity costs me my bed
Is this real or in my head
Like the faces behind me
BRT, ATM and NYSC

Opportunity costs you excellence
Is being sincere worth any pretence?
No?
Respecter les doses prescrites
Of course the training shows
Persons here already see the precedence

Opportunity costs us disorganization
Is that the time that you start preparation?
Everywhere within our reach,
There is an opportunity
Is this a lie?
Life cascades opportunities

And that was the first round, second round was made available at 3:53pm:

First I kissed a girl, I was drooling in my Pampers
By the time I’m paid, maybe she’ll be done with masters
Quchi told me no, Niel went and left us
Two word foods in Naija will have you moaning in tongues

EastSide till I second-yeared in the work
I watch so I do not end in the work
Operation “Depopulate Hell” in the Works
My main works say ministry, ministry works

If the sky spits me at the moon but I’m cloud-clad
So instead I land on Saturn, in a bed of pepper fumes, lost in what I had
If my straightness came with a jacket
If you never met me, would you still fall in love?
The child says, “tomorrow” like it’s not the same day.
Would you take a picture?
Not a good time?
Not a good time?
Where else could you be?
Would you take a picture?
Not a good time?

Yes yes, I apologise for drifting off. At 4:34pm, Uba came to the fore:

So, I remember all the opportunities that I didn’t take
The mistakes made
The cost was time
A price too expensive to pay
But Hey, no time to dwell
Ahead ahead is the movement
This back wasn’t meant for the floor
This mind can’t be rooted to a spot
Cuz when HE plot my life’s curve it was always for the x-axis
Father Abraham’s bloodline
I’m too rich to be broke
And I’m dead to this world, his word was the kill shot
So even if I bleed anguish and pain
His blood has clot that hurt

Eremi followed through at 5:33pm with her classic quatrain stanzas of wonder. We should talk about Eremi’s writing syle oe of these days. The clarity of it, within the form of classic or textbook style poetry, makes her a pleasant surprise to read. Check this out:

“Opportunity no get price tag oh
Be careful of those
Their costs are never small
You can be so sure”
To expatiate

Opportunities, could they be like flies?
That bug when the place is messed up
And leave a few behind when the place is all clean?

Could they be like mirages
When you could only perceive them from afar
They tend to disappear when you get closer?

Could they be like fantasies?
That only come when your lids are closed
And your heart open to fantasize
Because your hands can’t seem to reach?

I dare say
Opportunities come everyday
So does distractions
Of want
Of the appearance of good
Of misplaced priorities
Or of courage unwilling to surface
And each day we trade
We barter opportunity
For what we may have tagged impunity
But please
Keep watch for when “Kairos” moments
are on display
Their costs are usually heavier
Because they are weightier

You would only know how valuable when you owned them

Woah!! Dripping awesome!!

Need I say more?
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
Hanna Azubuike
Lady Nancy
U.B.A.
Niel Quchi

A workbook of God discussions (ctd.)

January 19, 2022January 19, 2022Leave a comment

Father, it’s me again
I really need your ears
I’m really in pain
I’ve waited for your audience
I really need a change
I’ve gone weary with my efforts
I really need your comfort
My strength has been drained
I really need you
Turn my life around
Make a boomerang
Pump in your grace
And I will bounce back
If you don’t tickle me
I won’t be tickled
If you don’t rescue me
I won’t like victory
I’m tired of this stagnation
I’m revolting within me
My spirit is pretty uncomfortable
I’m warring with myself
My mind is perplexed
Come to my rescue
My help comes from you
Let my ears hear good news
Let my eyes see good views
Let my hands handle good tidings
Let my mouth witness good things
It’s been a long time coming
This is one manner in which I pray

Personally, I feel; like she was just showing off. That passion of a heartfelt wail is not so kneeling in the spurt. It sparks through rather than floods. But she does ok, all devices considered. Her resignation glows.

It was after an hour and eighteen minutes, at 7:23 PM that Princess Pirinye. For those of you who have experienced Pirinye before, you can recognize the consistency in her voice. She is still our royal dynamo, never failing to twist. You who are new to her, please meet Princess Pirinye:

*Hello Dad*
Well, I don’t need to ponder on the words to use
I don’t need to pick them out, before they are misused
I don’t need to know how to construct my sentence and place my tenses
What’s the essence?
I say “Hello Dad” and I’m given so much preference
Everything suddenly freezes
His attention he releases
I’m overwhelmed by how he listens to my request
Giving no excuses, he addresses my distress
“Hello Dad” brings the whole victory.

Princess Pirinye
Freestyle Friday

Yep, and she signs her name. And that is super helpful because, the guys who used to edit this later (me), would need to add that. So adding it for them, she’s an angel.

Coming through at 9:42 PM, was the tie and dye jedi, founder of Surprano Art and Clothing, Prince Adeleye Olaoye with “a lot has changed…”:

A lot has changed since my knees dialled your line,
Then, I had no clogs in my mind,
And I knew what I wanted
I was alien to distraction,
My lungs weren’t polluted with doubts,
“Bless and provide for Parents so that they can buy me bicycle “
These words were always spoken in confidence
With my hands clutched to my chest;
My knees dialling God’s line
A lot has changed since then,
My feelings now live in a dry land,
And thoughts are hard to find there,
And when I find words to draw from my well,
It’s not good enough to be served before You,
How do I sieve out prayers from the debris clogging my mind,
How do I stay still when I have so much to let out
But can’t find words to convey them,
Only tears flooding my facing,
For how long will my pillow endure these pains?
When will my tears water my prayers?
When will my eyes watch my desires grow into reality?
When will these little droplets of words,
Mumbled in my heart carry enough mustard seeds,
To move mountains I see before me
Have I been dialling the wrong line?
Dear Lord, I ask for nothing more
Than to teach me how to pray
I can’t stay still again,
Speak now or I keep dialing your line the best way I know how to!

Hmm…Very sober
Very serious
Very middle of the night

But just then, at 11:17 PM, the goddess in CaP, Chika St. Davnique purred poetry her exotic poetry across our screens:

Our Father,
Who seats in the council of constellations
And drinks cocktails of volcanoes
Hallowed be thy name,
Olodumare-baddest, Agidigba-finest, Keeper of my robe, Lifter of my head, and God of gods. Olowgbogboro, I evolve in pursuit of your words.
Thy kingdom come,
With righteousness as rain. Rein captivity
And over the lawless King reign.
Teach brother Nebuchadnezzar
That Lions eat grass when they try to wrestle with God.
Thy will be done…
In this earthen vessel that is me
My life a mirror of your divine intentions
Picture perfect, bright as your thoughts.
Give me this day my daily peace,
For bread isn’t as filling
Echezona, that my frame is frail
I am shamelessly needing your mercy, daily
And when all is said and done,
Crown my tomorrows in beauty
For thine is the kingdom
The best part of uncertain tomorrows

Amen. Did you have to wake up from that too? So much “Nigerian pentecostal” vibes

This is the same person who, in A WORKBOOK OF GOD DISCUSSIONS, acted like she was not praying on purpose. Shey, I told you guys.

Four minutes to the next day, at 11:56 PM…

It happens to me where I find myself at a few minutes to 12am, and I write fast to try and get in a good number of poems before it’s 12. The finality at the end of Xhika’s piece, like she thought that no one would write after her.

But here is Adeleye Olaoye, four minutes to the next day, at 11:56 PM:

I don’t know how death feels like,
I have not even had a taste of it,
It once walked past me,
And that day, I lost my uncle,
And I was still very much young
But now, every day I am being reminded,
That the grim reaper will come knocking,
Snatching my loved ones away from me,
And I am left helpless,
I do not know how to pray or what to pray for,
When these feelings come,
But one thing I am sure of,
Is What His words say,
I will chew on them,
Till I know how to pray
Selah!

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:
Hanna Azubuike
Princess Pirinye
Adeleye Olaoye
Chika St. Davnique

A workbook of God discussions

January 18, 2022January 21, 20226 Comments

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.

Last week, I showed you freestyles from the months of April and March. It is time therefore to advance to the month of May. But may I yet indulge you with poetry from the last day of the month of April. April 30th saw some really great poetry.

We begin at Nonso John, 12:11pm in the afternoon:

I pray.
Let the words of my mouth.
And the meditations of my heart.
Be acceptable in your sight.
Oh Lord.
And when I come on the edge
Of every of life’s precipices.
And take the plunge into decisions
Let my Falcon find his Winter Soldier.
I pray.
That the tears of my eyes.
And the trepidations of my heart.
Find me, and find me still, in you.
Oh Lord.

Sometimes I forget to begin a freestyle session and everyone carries on like it’s a Wednesday and not a Friday. But sometimes, like this particular day, the poetry starts ahead of the giving of a topic.

Speaking of the topic, the topic this time was “How to pray”. Nonso, however, didn’t know any of that. He just wrote, and at 12:36pm, he wrote again:

Give to a fish, man.
And he’ll soon need another.
But teach a fish to man.
And you’ve manned him forever.
And this fish will grow balls.
Big, strong, hairy ones.
The heart of a lion.
And the will of a Warrior.
Teach a pauper to paup
And he’ll Jabez all his life.
But give a crown to a King.
Bend the knee.
Teach a Seminarian to “amen.”
And his palms will always kiss.
His lips whisper benedictions.
Knees chaffed from petinence.
But teach an infant to faith.
To Abba, and to Kadosh.
Bring him truth in all its glory.
Watch the sun bow to him.

Ten minutes later, Funke came through with:

Enter his gates with boldness & thanksgiving
Let go of all these misgivings
With praises -hands raising
Acknowledge His sovereignty
That is how to Pray!
Take your guilt to the cross
Leave the burden on your source
Confess your sins, let His blood erase
He knows about them anyways…
Acknowledge He knows all…Yes He does
This is how to Pray
Forgive, if you were offended
So your prayers don’t get hindered
Though hard, let Grace prevail
The light of Christ passing through your heart’s veil
Your petitions afterwards present!
This is how to Pray
Well the list is inexhaustible
For scriptures exists-so irresistible
Saints of old also echo their tales
Telling us how to Pray!
So while I wait for Nepa’s light
Saying No to sweat this Friday night
Abeg add my prayer to yours till I hear
UP NEPA!
This is how to Pray!

It’s the brightly colored writing style for me. She managed to read just like a psalm would. The anachronism is the NEPA there. That’s pretty Naija.

When those of us who have read UC Truth
saw “UC is typing”, our excitement was evident. Here he is, at 12:47pm:

How to pray I know not
Maybe it is because I don’t have a rule of approach
I just go when he says come
So I come
how I Am
said I should
I set my eyes on him
and then I rise like the sun when it’s dawn
when I’m done
Which is never
Cos I pray whenever
Wherever I am
For I Am is there wherever
Whenever I pray
I Am is there whenever
Wherever I pray
Boldly I do
speaking normally like I do
When I say how I feel to the ones I do, to.
And if saline fluid escape my eyes
I let them
just like he lets me breathe
I let them too, one then two
Until I have cried him a river
same one he lets bubble inside
and then the water breaks
And I put to bed
whatever it is that bid me come
happy or sad
I lay them all there, stripped
naked, at his feet
whipped beyond recognition
Tongues and tongues lashing
till only one tongue is left laughing
So how to pray I know not
I just come and be me
with He
Who said
Come!

So, tell me; how did that feel?

For me it felt like he was replying to the question of how to pray in an anguished, passionate groan. Well, that’s UC-sensei for you.

It is important to recognize that these different replies basically represent different prayers to God, and then there are the replies. At 1:50 PM, Tochukwu came through with his own entry:

Convo with my dad?
With all sense of respect yet so informal
With calmness in my voice but not of fear
With a knowing that he really is listening even if he’s looking at a newspaper while I blab
I don’t need to call him big names to get him to do my bidding
The name ‘Daddy’ is more than enough
Reserved only for his offsprings
I just come because I’m his child and his responsibility.
With no sense of terms and conditions applied

He took a 27 minute breath and then he continued:

A quick one…#PettyFuse
For Christ’s sake, do we really need to raise our voice at him while having a convo?
The answer is obvious
It’s a two person conversation and the other ain’t hearing impaired
What’s with the ‘raise your voice’ and ‘I can’t hear you’ everytime we gather to communicate.
Like I was talking to you before…
Seems the amplitude of the sound increases the efficacy of its ascendance.
Without the gyration, the communication is not effective ’cause the angels on duty do not receive enough kinetic energy to be excited from one level/realm to the other realm carrying our requests with them.
Word!
Did I say we should not freely express ourselves as we please while praying?
Did I?
I just asked why there’s a need to induce persons to increase their volume when obviously they ain’t talking to me
And to think that the person they’re communicating with is closer than their breathing breathe
Maybe it’s more spiritual to ‘ratata…’ in high tones than in soft tunes

And such are the Poets in our team. The fluidity and freedom of language…you should try it, if you haven’t. Meanwhile,something was brewing.

Amongst us in CaP,there are those with a blinding dexterity to their techniques. But that is one of the things that you learn with us – YOU ARE AN IRREPLACEABLY UNIQUE VOICE.

So even when you feel like there is no point trying because you will never surpass so and so? Everyone feels like that at some point. However, everyone didn’t live in that feeling. There is a time for everyone,but you must grow daily, in order to be ready for that moment.

But some are born ready.

At 5:09PM, Hanna stated categorically:

“I’m ANGRY‼️”
But that would be disrespectful
How can 24 elders be angry at me at the same time?
So I tiptoe into Abba’s parlor
Mumbles some words while
He discusses with them about the state of the world and all the big things happening somewhere in the middle east.
Each day comes like the previous day and I do my rituals, mumbling pale nothingness into the blue skies in hope that I’d be asked “what did you say?”
Who knows, may be courage would find a platform on my tongue to vent all the molten magma boiling within
Sometimes a stare from Abba at me…
But wait…
Is he really looking at me or at my sibling who is speaking loud into my ears like I have the answers to her prayers?
Some days silence is what he had for breakfast, no incense of any kind.
Yes,I was shocked to see myself awake
Anyway, what is there to gain?
Moments where I needed to divide the hours, sorry elders into two and tell him of the impending dangers he’s already aware of.
But I just sigh and he nods in the midst of their conversations like he heard me.
And yes, a day came when I finally did say those first words
He looked at me without surprise but with the look that was satisfied after much longing , the desire to hear what I had just said.
And that was it!
The rest is his story because a conversation almost always involves two lives.

First, I’m like, Who is angry?
Then I get sucked into her artful contemplation. She’s just writing what she is thinking and seeing in her mind’s eye, as she prays.

Let it be said,clearly.

This is a compilation of prayers that were supposed to be poems about “How to pray.”

5:55 PM

Chika St. Davnique:

Dear Dad,
I’m struggling to understand it
How do you stay still?
Storms roar and you’re the eye
Silent like the tears on Hannah’s cheeks.
How do you stay still?
How does a mother watch her child die?
I struggle to grasp the difference
the disparity between a God who is good and allows crushing.
How?
Maybe teach me to pray?
Maybe help it all make sense?
Maybe stay still and just sit
Here.
Now.
Maybe…

Shey you see this one…?

She just ups and pretends she doesnt know she is praying, just to illustrate a person who doesn’t know they are praying. The goddessness of the notion, leaves you wondering…

Does she know she is praying?
Does she often pray this prayer?

Then it dawns on me. We all do.

Ini Brown probably waltzed into group chat and went straight for the fridge. He dropped this one at 6:04 PM:

How to pray?
ok, how about,
give me give me give me give me give me give me.
oh and my name is Ini.
Many times we are blinded by personal needs,
often seeking harvest from personal seeds ,
salt of the Earth, the world is a pot of problems, but you’re not our cup of tea.
how about the next time I try to, pray I don’t pray about me.

Where is my laughing-hard emoji?

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:
Nonso John
Chika St. Davnique
TC
Olufunke Ajegbomogun
Ini Brown
UC Truth

God Sightings

January 15, 2022Leave a comment

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.

Yesterday on Holy Fun Stuff I neglected to mention that Nonso John hid a particular trick throughout his freestyle entry. He hid the titles of movies that Arnold Schwarzzenegger has been throughout the poem. Movies like Terminator and Expendables…

As for today’s session…

Itt happened on a Tuesday (April 5th 2021). Now, sometimes,writers don’t wait till the “write time” to write. Some days, a picture is enough to wake up the drama. So, on tuesday, at 9:53pm, Uba wrote:

Ok, so for me it was the amount of talent that I found in the group. Now not to say that I did not know that there will be this abundance of talented writers but the fact that there was this spontaneity about how different pieces were being written and how dynamic the pieces were, they were not your regular pieces they were just so creative. I mean listening to Niel’s Bibles are selfies, the first one or Nnanna’s Silence and just looking at everybody in the group and how dynamic we all are the way we were just amazing in our different ways. I was surprised and I just knew that I was at the right place, deep down inside of me that I was at the right place, a place where I could grow, a place where I could get better, a place where I would grow effectively in writing, I’m grateful, thank you very much sir.

Ok, yeah, that is not really poetry. But I thought you should see it. I still regret that there is no video of me from before Bibles are selfies, but I am so grateful to God for all the work he has seen us through, over the years.

And 43 minutes later, here is Hanna Azubuike with a piece of her beautiful mind:

I don’t know if she was the one you were busy chatting with while I hoped you’d propose to me.
Now I’ve seen her, she’s everything you wanted and more
She does the magazine like a soldier stuck to her guns
She’s never late
Pauses on purpose to accurately release her words like bullets to hit her target
Imani’s powder got nothing on her
Hers is gun powder that brighten the eyes of her ‘victims’

time to shoot your shot

Okay, for a bit of a background: Christapoet has a monthly magazine that is managed and edited by Imani. So on this particular day, something made everyone get in a grateful spirit. Maybe it was Godswill who said something or maybe it was Imani, but either way, it sparked these poems, about Imani. Hanna is talking to Uba about choosing Imani over her. I think she kids. But at 10:56, Eremi had this to say about Imani:

Imani, of bright smile
And of starry eyes
Imani of sweet words, a sweeter heart and a soothing voice
Imani of great strength
And an even greater determination
Imani, the one that oversees the seas of contents’ flow
Imani, my beloved
I knew we had some things in common
Alphabets were the least I would have stood on
Well, the alphabet makes words don’t they?
And Words make worlds, don’t they?
We work wonders when we write, don’t we?
Imani my very great friend
I hail from this end

Yes yes, Imani is incredible.

And that was the extent of that day’s freestyling. Long ago, before the advent of freestyling, these poets would claim not to be able to make such freely comments in this style. But that is one of the goals of the freestyling: Growth, confidence.

The next day,I was itching to write so at 4:31pm, I did:

From God is love to God is Killer
From eternal salvation to the 10 plague giver
From God who answers faith to God of the sweaty prayer
From God who forgave sin to Ananias and Sapphira

So which is Witch – The deceiver or the misled?
Sometimes I jot with a pencil because I miss lead,
But also so I erase it when I have gained sense;
But there are things that are written in blood like Christ’s death

I forgot that if I don’t do my own research
There’ll be people telling me that I won’t resurrect
Far be it from me to drink it hook, line and sinker
Even Christ didn’t, and I’m his doppelganger
I’ve been living on his rhema like another banger
And I won’t miss the message for any interpreter

…and at 5:56pm…

Watch and pray my Bro the temptations are plenty plenty
I told my girl no fornication until we are married
If I was dodging meat for people I’d be vegetarian
Truth is truth whether or not its from foe or friend
That’s…

…and at 8:02pm… I wonder what it was that I was doing at the time:

The Love of God is very constant
No doctrine can change that
I didn’t deserve it before he gave Christ
I didn’t sow a seed to reap Christ

But that was all before the 9th…when we wrote on Holy Fun Stuff.

Authors:
Eremi
Niel Quchi
Uba
Hanna Azubuike

Holy Fun Stuff

January 14, 20221 Comment

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

A Life that Counts

January 12, 2022Leave a comment

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.

Now, some days find Christapoet writers just freestyling without prompt or occasion. I called the poems from such occasions “spurts” a long time ago, and so it has been. On this day, another March day, the topic had been given the day before which had been a Friday. But there had been silence…until Ini Brown wrote at 7:42am on Saturday:

for a life to count, it must know it’s worth
so what are you worth?
is it what you own
your abilities, the very skills you hone
is it you personality, that subtle drive or extraordinary flair.
the way you could make sunken hearts feel lighter than air.
is it your personality you hold above
or the fact that your account has more figures than your body curve.
i believe that the worth of a thing is how much it is willing to be paid for
and that Christ gave his life when mine was what to be paid for.
I guess all I’m saying is, know your worth.

Now, Saturdays are kinda busy and a lot of times, there is no time to check what has been happening. I came online the next day, at 2:47 pm, I wrote:

So arranged it’s lyrical teeth,
Byte me tell me which app pulled this
Off like the fruit of knowing which
Is good or evil
Me I’m simple
Trained to battle
Biro mantle
And everybody can return and that is the force of folly if not fully first planned.

Now Fink!

Wazzdat

Yesterday I checked my spotify stats
Numbers made me love this exodus that
Started with a song I sang on red night
Life is no exam but complainers read light

Rice and stew is Sunday food, once I lacked and wished I could go back to the days of ten marks but my life has moved.
Who are you, they asked me too; when I tried to tell em “shoo”. Who it fits should wear the shoe but the truth is someone paid for you.

Shooo?

Rest is left to write this
Someone had to hear this
If the first evangelists were like me would I write this?
Those red lines they blew me
Burnt up my apathy

I stopped a while to see if anyone would write something but this was not that kinda day. So at 3:58 PM on the same day, I wrote again:

Teach us to number our days
I counted on the wrong things
Gone they soon were North wind
Angel told me to send applications
But I only got those they sent me
Smiles on the babies I babied
Sweat off the mothers I helped out
In Christ I am Superman
That’s that super mega upgrade
Warn a bros with the gospel
That’s me being legendary
DC made holy charges
But salvation’s still free
We’re dying from our birthday next day might be death day let’s say it’s a party God’s will is that all fed welfare based on Christ being in here not the atmosphere
Preaching is my service though I won the game
Net study plenty, you should do the same
I am God’s finger and my lips paint
Christ crucified and buried and raised
A life that counts is measured by those who gained
But God better be counting or what else is vain?
And that was it. Or so I thought. It appears that there are some days when my people look at the spurts and poems and decide to join in.

A few days, on the 11th at 3:13 PM, Hanna Azubuike wrote. Now, ordinarily, I would count it as a addressing a different topic or matter, but I will let you be the judge of that. She titled the piece “Wrong Address”

Death came knocking at our door
We said it was the wrong address
We said those hoodlums from hell lost their map again
He inquired about our payment
We gave him Christ’s blood
He did an inspection round our fence for a broken edge
He found a carved bronze snake in it’s place
Death was furious
It’s the second time he’s here for this same body
But he always came on April fool’s day,
We told him we could not help him
No matter how he tries to come early,
Abba always has his April’s trick on him
No matter how, the description seems familiar
Wrong was our address

Nice right? Do you think it spoke on “a life that counts?

Authors:

Niel Quchi

Hanna Azubuike

In Brown

Holy Gist

July 22, 2021Leave a comment

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 through 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.

Pearly Thoughts
(C) 2021

THE YEAR

July 8, 2021July 3, 20212 Comments

It started from January
Without a salary
We ate from hand to mouth
Our Landlord sent us out

We spent a lot during Christmas
Now I can’t buy ordinary slippers
My children had to go to school
So I had to sell my working tool

Next month, I lost my job
I was attacked by a mob
I lost my only car
And was constantly in a bar

Next month, my house got burnt
I went to the village and began to hunt
Because of pain and shame, I cried
I lost hope and my spirit died

Until the fourth month
From the grave we came forth
I and a man familiar with suffering
He wasn’t rich but he was so caring

He said, “I’ve taken away your sorrow
Don’t bother yourself about tomorrow
I was crushed for your iniquity
I’ve taken up your infirmity”

He taught me joy in suffering
With hope as his last offering
Now my life has totally changed
The way I see things have also changed
Now my new house is completed
All my children have graduated
I have brand new cars
And I no longer visit bars

I began to act different
Now I don’t need to pay rent
My house is very charming
And I still indulge in farming

I had nothing
Yet I possess everything
To the world I was a fool
But in him was my wisdom full

All because I believed
I definitely achieved
I was also faithful
And that was fruit full

From January to December
There’s a lot of disaster
From January to December
It’s not easy, you grow stronger