Tag: help

Chest Knot

Leave a comment

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

Olorun Onile Oke

1 Comment

Olorun Onile Oke
God, the stronghold
In a world full of threats
I call you my Abo Oke
The one and only high fortress

The lord my eternal refuge,
Olu ibi Isadi
Your everlasting arms O Tobi Ju

With it you thrusted
Out my enemies from before me,
You silenced the voices That cried out threats

The threats that threatened to break all hell loose until my back hits the ground

You stood your ground In battle until their strongholds did rattle,
Mighty man in battle

Jagun jagun segun
You broke the gates of brass and cut the bars of iron in asunder

At the sound of my cry,
You caused the foundations of the hills to move,

You heard my voice
And the earth trembled,
You kissed away the tears from off my temple

Apata ayeraye,
The rock of ages,
My help,
In ages past,
You bowed down the heavens and came down

And when the thick darkness surrounding me saw you,
It took flight

My high fortress,
Because I have you I don’t even have to fight.

Ebubechi
©2025

BOOK REVIEW: Dear Unloved

Leave a comment


Author: The Christ A Poet Team
Editor: ChyD
Pages: 33
Publisher: The Christ A Poet Concepts Ltd.
Reviewer: Ubamara Ezenobi

The book Dear Unloved lives up to its title.

It is not unusual for human beings to fall into sad states occasionally, and Christians are not left out of the trend. While these tragic states may be caused by a variety of reasons, the different poets that contributed to this work have proffered only one solution: Christ.

Dear Unloved starts with Osione’s Crackhead, where she passionately describes the addictions we all at some point or the other go through with depression. You can see yourself in the words as she skillfully paints the picture of a man helplessly adapting to his companion. As we ride through the waves the poets craft for us with their symphonies, we find the same symptoms recurrent in the seemingly unloved human. Pain. Listlessness. Deep sadness. All of those words tell the same story.

Many of the poems in this book are duets, causing the rich blend of poetry and passion you’ll find within. There’s Project Proposal for example, where ChyD and Imani remind us of Jesus’ finished work at the cross. In their own words, someone already produced results for this problem. Dear Unloved resonates with suspense as the characters go through their own phases of darkness.

It is not often that I get to review a book that leaves me reading through, spellbound. The sentences got my attention. The choice of words left me amazed, and impressed. Ultimately, I started all over again, because I found it good for my soul.

If you’ve ever felt dark times, and if you are in fact going through dark times now, then Dear Unloved was written with your name beating in the hearts of the poets.

Download the Book for Free

He Beckons

Leave a comment

Where are you man in grief,
In regret of past decisions or locked in brackets of unanswered questions?

Where are you man in lust,
In a pool of vain imagination or full of scorn from last night’s bile?

Where are you man in doubt,
Trapped in a cage of uncertainties or navigating the complexities of your path?

Where are you man in desperate mode,
Awake in your worries or embracing options that don’t serve you?

Where are you man in unbelief,
Crafting your ways or rejecting help from zion?

God’s hands are reaching out
Bekoning…

Accept His comfort through grief and unanswered questions.

He is reaching out, beckoning…
Accept his help to break free from that habit.

He is reaching out, beckoning…
Accept His wisdom to deal with the affairs of men.

He is reaching out, beckoning…
Accept His peace to calm the raging storm.

He is reaching out, beckoning…
Accept His son that you might have everlasting life.

Imani Dokubo
© 2023

Gethsemane

1 Comment

The garden reminds me of him

Bowed down, he bore weights too heavy before they ever landed. My Lord knew the battle was fierce to fight and he would not let me suffer. No, he would do the fighting. If this price had to be paid, then he would do the paying.

The garden reminds me of him

The Lord of glory had need for help. Every minute brought him closer and every gesture was a prayer. He that was everyone’s everything had no one’s nothing to journey with him. Alone he must go. A lone seed to be sown.

The garden reminds me of him

Before the curtain fell on sin’s final payment.  Before ever a drop of blood hit the floor. Before stripes parted his skin and men killed the one that healed them. The garden bore witness to my Lord’s humanity. The garden bore witness to this man’s divinity.

The garden reminds me of him

Ezeonyeka Godswill
(C) 2022

A Cry For Help

Leave a comment


Help!
I’m at my wisdom’s end
There are now fewer wisdoms found in my speeches
Words tend to rush out all messed up
Before I remember to clean them up
Making more troubles than giving solutions
Help! Father! I’m at my wisdom’s end
I’d rather your words take hold of my tongue


Help!
Gradually, I am forgetting me
How you see me
How you value me
Living a false life
Is quickly becoming my reality
I find myself lost in doubt
Forgetting you’ve placed me in certainty
Help! Father! I am forgetting me
I’d rather your thoughts about me fill my heart

Help!
I have lost my direction
I think back to be front
And when I try to move
I find out I’m still facing back
My compass isn’t as accurate as I thought it was
It’s broken
Help! Father!
I don’t know where I’m at
But I’m certain you will find me
I’d rather continue this journey with you


Help! Father!
’tis all I can mutter
I no longer have hold over the matter
Father, I know you can hear me
‘Help me!’ Is all I’ve got to say now
Yet, I feel comforted that you do understand
Even more that a thousand words could have explained.
Help! Father!
I really need you.


Pearlythoughtz
© 2022

Redemption Memo

Leave a comment

It began like this…

Clad in purple and linen, cat-walking with stiletto strapped feet,
I miss my steps

Fall into a gully of mud
Stumble into the midst of men mouthing profanity

Stench ooze from me like box of putrid egg

I become crafter of maleficence, of deeds done in darkness

Yet, I am of tender days than to perpetuate impurity
You, of purer eyes than to behold iniquity.

Lord, seems mother said you do not appose your eyelids like the sons of men?

But why are these befalling me
Or why should I be falling?

Like Martha, this is how I feel:
Lord if you had been here, my soul would not have been ensnared in the tempter’s trap

Now I come with a bunch of sins, my back bent into a hunch

Have mercy on me, Lord, have mercy and vanquish this vile!
Let these things cease, like when you stilled the storm

Will you discard the memento of your purchase?
The one you stamped by your blood on the tree, like Rahab’s scarlet cord hung over the window in Canaan?

Up till now, the spies are over the gate of my soul, watching, waiting to devour & divide me as a spoil—this moribund mortal

But the redemption of my soul is costly,
And in it, you promised sin shall not have dominion over me

This is why tonight, I recite to you the memorandum of my redemption
I hope you heed my cry and help me.

Ayooluwa Olasupo Ìmísí
©2021

What do I have in my hand?

Leave a comment

Exodus 4:2, 17

“And the LORD said unto him, What is that in thine hand? And he said, A rod.
And thou shalt take this rod in thine hand, wherewith thou shalt do signs.”

Me? Like, you mean, I?
I mean, I’m looking around me
And no one else is here.
It looks like you’re talking to…
Oh. It’s me you’re-? Okay.

What do I have in my hand?
Okay, let’s see. Errrm.
Wait. Do you mean like hand-hand,
Or do you mean it, like, figuratively?
Because, see ehn… Oh sorry.

See ehn, I have a pen, but I also have a…
Wait. Am I saying this right?
Because a part of me thinks
That you probably mean what do-
Oh. You mean like in my hand

– Like physically? Okay

Well, it’s a pen. And it’s blunt.
Sorry, of course a pen is not a pencil.
It cannot – errmm – cannot be blunt.
Or maybe blunt also means… Well…
I mean that it doesn’t write

Hahaha – hmm. Sorry.
I swear the laugh was a reflex.
I thought that you said it’s enough.
And somehow it sounded funny and-
Oh. You mean it’s- you mean it’s enough?

Sorry, what exactly is it enough for?
Oh my God! God is talking to me!
What a – what a – wait. Hold on.
This feels normal all of a sudden.
What a normal thing it is.

A God, talking to another God.
Yes, Sorry sir. You were talking.
So, my pen. Right.
You said it was enough for –
Sorry, for what again?

For signs?
Of course, who didn’t know that.
Pens are for nothing if not for
For signatures and putting down th-
Oh, not that? But you said-

Oh, you mean “Wonders.”
I wonder what You mean.
How could a pen – I mean – I bought
It from Malam’s shop oh. I just thought –
Just thought I should tell you.

Oh, you already knew that.
Of course. You’re God.
Silly me. Lol. Sorry. Wait. Is that a sin?
Saying Lol at God? Oh it’s not?
Oh well, I didn’t know. Lol.

So, you’re saying with this old thing,
This blunt little blue pen
That I’m going to – sorry repeat that part.
Right. I’m going to bring the world-
Wait. Did you mean the entire world or-

Oh, okay. The entire world, you say.
Is going to come down to its knees
In worship to the Almighty.
Hahaha. Lol. This one sweet me ehn!
Sorry. We’re being serious.

It’s not like I don’t believe you oh.
Okay, maybe a part of me doesn’t.
But – ah! – but even you check am na.
It looks too – Oh. You know, abi?
Oh, you’ll help me. Ha!

Well, if you say so.
you, from Heaven, say so.
Then, I guess I agree with you.
Amen oh.
Amen.

Nonso John
©2021