Cursive, no thieves, just leaves, viva la valedictorian
Verily voting for venom,
Victims inclusive of some who had heard of him
Ofcourse
Vocal for Jesus like voting or venting
The vast invitations have vogued him
Visions of Vashti vroom through my vexing
But all I visit is the invincible
Vote it over all the visible
Vexing never vindicated alone
Eyes stay above from thought to tone
Violent verbal confession
No thieving touches the one will say
“I am more than Victorious”
Niel Quchi
© 2023
Story says,
God is my shield-
and Shepherd.
Story says,
That the Holy Spirit in me,
Will never leave me.
Story says,
Follow the ancient path,
For it’s the road to the peak.
Story says,
Be not afraid,
For angels of Yahweh are with me .
Fighting for me.
Story says,
Christ is in me
The hope of glory.
Story says,
I am more than a conqueror ,
And nothing can separate me from the love of Christ.
Story says,
Tell my servant David,
That I will make him great and his name will spread abroad.
Story says,
I am salt and light of the world
A city that can never be hidden
Story says,
I will bless you with wisdom,
With loyal counselors and warriors
And I have given you many lands.
Story says,
Always remember that the Spirit in you
dose not make you fear, but fills you with power, love and self-control.
Story warns,
Let not the law and the habit of studying the holy book depart from me.
Meditate on it day and Night.
Story says,
The word of God is my sword of the Spirit.
And my shield is faith in God.
Story says,
In the Name of Jesus Christ
I have been anointed with power and authority and dominion.
Ugwu David C
©2023
The garden reminds me of him
Bowed down he bore weights too heavy before they ever landed. My Lord knew the battle was his to fight and he would not let me suffer. 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 garden he must sow.
The garden reminds me of him
Before the curtain dropped 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
I fear for the man with the microphone
He must speak that which was spoken to him
But does he listen only to speak to the crowd
Can he listen enough to listen while he speaks
I wonder at the woman with the microphone
Laid out in beautiful worship before her Lord
Does her feet still know the grounds of this world
Will this dance of transcendence translate or transform
I fear and I wonder at the man I could be
Microphone in hand, driven by more than I can transmit
I pray that my eyes and heart never know another Lord
That I never be left on my own with a microphone
I wonder at the people we will be, microphone in hand
Telling of his love, revealing to all what they need to hear
More than words we can describe yet we raise a sound
So I pray with the microphone in our hands only Him will be heard
Ezeonyeka Godswill
Oraegbu Philipa
(c) 2022
Men search all their lives for what has been right in front of them.
Trashing gold and chasing Shadows
Could it be the difference in font sizes making their mind choose superiority over relevance?
How shallow can man’s mind be???
A desperate quest for a test not given detesting all it has been equipped with.
Ohhh……comparison, man’s self constructed blind fold kidnaps him to a dump where pumps no longer make sense until it releases a shrieking sound like that of Ngozi.
Forgetting Zee sounds in no way like Y neither does it come before it but leaves words incomplete with it’s absence.
My heart can’t cry more than the king of Glory’s as he hands another years waited mantle to handle.
If you don’t handle that mic it will be given to another.
If you don’t start speaking now another is right behind you to take over
If you don’t start and see less of how imperfect you may sound and focus on strength from Calvary nothing will vary when another takes your place.
Start!!!
Ebube
© 2021
That you might receive him forever, no longer as a slave—a beloved brother… Philemon 1: 15-16
I’m a fugitive fleeing from punishment
A slave mortgaging with my destiny
Transecting my soul with transgression
A man finds me whose father
sentenced to death two thousand years ago
Says his name is Grace and he won’t let me go
Wraps warm hands around me
till his love fills me to overflow
Like rainwater filling a cistern
” I died“, he says but now I live forever
And if you let me, I can wipe away your past too, forever.”
Ayooluwa Olasupo Ìmísí
©2021
A boy stared with sightless eyes at the starless sky
The smile across his neck would be pretty if it wasn’t bloodshot…
Like one of the many bristles of the brush, his head held ink, dark and red, ready to paint you a picture.
Of what dead hopes taste like on the tongue of hearts tired from trying
Just this morning his eyes held a song,
His knees said a prayer.
Someone lied to him, said there was salvation in the dead fingers of a nation’s anthem.
Told him to keep faith in the green-white-green textile
He came out with a song, just this morning…
So now the boy gazes.
Undead eyes pregnant with horror.
There are missing pages in his story. Hungers never spoken.
And today, we offer paltry libations of honor, to the heroes whose mangled bodies paint our history.
St.Davnique™️
©2021
I’ve not known many things
The result being many thorns
Many torns
Many turns
The world isn’t ideal you see,
We see-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.
St. Davnique
(C) 2021
Christ a poet 