Words for My Father

Baami,
For the times your words enveloped my fear,
Times your voice echoed courage into my soul,
And you became strength for my arms,
When the weight of the world became too heavy for me to bear,

Nna,
You built an image our lives could reflect on,
And carved words into pointers to guide us,
As we journeyed through the world,
You denied yourself of pleasures,
So we could afford the luxury we desired;
A price you’d pay as long as you had breath in your lungs,

How can I forget the touch of your rod,
A few lashes to straighten us when we went wrong,
How can I forget lessons enriched in respect, integrity and diligence,
Lessons drawn from the scenes of your life,
Lessons we could hold in the palms of our hands,
Lessons that moulded us into the men we are today!

Abba,
I choose to count my flowers while the sun still shines upon your face and the wind gently caresses you,
When the air in your lungs still warms up your chest,
And your heart still beats,
Today, I choose to celebrate you for being nothing short of a father!
Happy Father’s day Baami.


And to those Father who has gone beyond this world,
We choose to remember you and say you live on in hearts!

Olaoye Adeleye
(C) 2022

A Failed Weapon

There is a weapon, I mustn’t use as a Christian
Because using it, is tantamount to failure
I am strongly warned by captain of the Lord’s army
Never to use this weapon
It is certain that, it will definitely fail whether here or hereafter

Rickety machine gun, Mr. flesh
This weapon is weak to execute righteousness without taking the glory
Executing, holiness, peace, love,
humility, joy, kindness is far-fetched from this weapon
Using this weapon for the Lord’s battle is disastrous

A weapon set against the user
You shoot hatred, you inherit broken relationship
You shoot lust, you inherit vanity
You shoot anger, you inherit disorientation
You shoot worries, you inherit high blood pressure

Truly, is a weapon set against the user
if he uses it, the arm of flesh will fail.
The only authentic weapon to use for the battle
Is the weapon of a new man
Created in the image of Christ Jesus

Brightobong
©2021

Broken Mirror

I’m the supposed image of this cool King
Whose words are life eternal

Whose actions are as perfect as the cry of a newborn
Whose plans the whole universe reflect like the moon
Bringing us the afterthoughts of the sun at night.

I’m the supposed life He gave
The assurance that makes men brave
This eyes that look beyond the broken walls of your heart
The perfect stitchery that makes you new

But I fall short like shards of a mirror
I could barely survive the heat of this oven called living
Yes! I crafted my definition of living
Wrapped my gaze on the things I could see outside him
And I became a dead story waiting for his resurrection.

Symolean
(c) 2021

So many times

So many times I get my heart disturbed,
Disturbed with vanity with things of this world,
World called earth that isn’t forever,
Forever I keep thinking of the blessings I want to get,
Get lost to pains, frustration, uncertainty,
Certainly wavering in faith neither did I know,
Know that I was gradually broken to pieces closer to ashes,
Ashes of dust back to Genesis,
Genesis creation was in His image and likeness,
Likened unto Him that created thee,
The truth have I forsaken,
For my sake He made it to the cross,
Crossing my heart to His,
His ways should be in my dose,
Dosing daily His pills,
Pills to make me whole again,

Okelola Oladayo Joseph
(C) 2019

I HAVE SEEN LOVE

Though the sun
Escapes beyond the rifts the cloud makes
The scent of dawn
Woven in sounds of streams and breeze

All birthing from genesis
From young- never cease
What’s been said,
Saying let there be light

None can stand His words
Through spirit-life words, we were formed
Blessing invoked when He said,
Let’s make man in our image

After our likeness
Having what he loves-
A lofty hope of divine liberty
Our will free, we were his

He in fore-age,
Knew us by names
Portioned us into diverse ministries
By the fore known destinies

Giving grace, blessing us His’
From a strong heart
Sunk and sickened
With excess of love

TM Sungs (2019)

Dream

Deep in my slumber
I heard the audible whisper
A persistent voice searing on my drums
Arise ! Arise ! Arise !

I closed the lids and tried drifting to sleep
But the tone came like the bleat of a sheep
A bang to the ear; It was a raging storm
All I saw was an image without form

Standing like a statue I boiled in red
My mind soaked in dirt and fusty
I tried hearkening to the voice I heard
It was all cloudy and musty

Then came the shimmering beams
And I heard my soul singing
So clear was the message ringing
Live the DREAM!

Ugwu Vincent
© 2019