Theory is good
Analysis helpful
But none can save you
Except praying on your knees.
God is not moved
By our carnal understanding
He lives above the heavens
He abides in His Presence.
The fourth dimension
Is only moved by faith
Get on your knees now
Humble your heart
And pray now.
Ugwu David C.
©2023
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
Time like air is boundless, existing independent of us
Helping us take note, employing us
To nurture after our to-do-list
Yet reminding us the risk
of not being
of not seeing
The thought of it as illusion only makes bold the impact on our vision
An endless circle
Old enough to seal life’s chronicles
Yet does nothing to change it
The only certified entity to bridge it.
Love like the sea, is deep
Accommodating everything cold
and warm-blooded
Not seeking its own way
Needs nothing external to become
Countless questions on its existence
Unending thoughts on its purpose
And like the absence of peace
Making monsters of those who go by without it
The true essence of its fragrance waiting always on those who have gone past feeling
to becoming love.
Death, what happens when you’re busy making other plans
Claiming more lives with its rude interruption
The least talked about of all three
Yet with each blow comes a string of thought on time and love
Each seized breath a trail of shadows to your canvas
With more questions than answers
How much time is left?
Is love evident?
What next after death?
Imani Dokubo
©2021
When corruption becomes
The pest eating the plantation
Of our nation
And compromise is the only meal
Served as your last option
STAND OUT!
When your altar is shattered
Battered and scattered
And the only way to subscribe to their Data
Is to denounce the name
Of your Father or they use
Your head for a slaughter
STAND OUT!
Let your heart beat this
Let your mouth spit this
For a life without Christ
Is a life of stasis, Vices, Lysis
And Crisis
This is who we are
Nigerian youths serving Christ…..N.Y.S.C
We are pressed on every side
But not crushed
Perplex but not in despair
Persecuted but not forsaken
We are unbeatable, Unstoppable, Un-daunt-table, undefeatable
This is who we are
A city set on a hill
Marked with a seal
Love is our will
No matter the kill
Christ is the REAL DEAL
Don’t you ever forget this
THIS IS WHO WE ARE!
King Uwe
©2021
I have 50 naira
My favorite note.
She used to be beautiful
Blue, fragile and promising
But I still loved her.
Right from childhood,
50 naira held a bouquet of colorful promises
A plate of rice and stew
Plenty wraps of coconut candy
Fanta
Happiness
But then she turned on me
Had a makeover
Became glossy and glamorous
And slowly became worthless.
She used to command respect
now 50 naira has esteem issues,
hardly making any impact when she stands alone.
A once revered note that now only has value in its multiples
50 naira has let me down.
50 naira has now has mood swings
I only get to find out when I arrive at the market.
I just discovered that 50 naira and sachet tomato aren’t in speaking terms
50 naira and onions are no longer friends
50 naira is treading a dangerous path
The path of 5 naira… The path of irrelevance
I’ve tried to warn her.
She said her fate is not in her hands.
That it’s not her fault
50 naira is breaking my heart.
She has changed
Grown distant
I still hold her in my hands but can’t feel her impact in my life.
Damaris Akhigbe
©2021
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
Charles Young
©2021
“We’re all Kings and Pawns,”
Napoleon Bonaparte once said,
“We’re all Emperors.”
“We’re all Fools.”
Funny he should say that.
We, like two Kingdoms, square up.
Blacks against Whites.
Decisions. Decisions.
What’s in your hand, sir?
King Pawn to King Four.
Small beginning steps we take
Believing we’re each of us
The only star in our own movie.
But Knight to Queen’s Bishop Three.
Counter moves from counter selves
We sabotage our own efforts
And wonder what’s afoot.
We’re all Kings and Pawns
Though each man in his own heart
Thinks himself different from all.
Superior to all the human-ness.
What’s in your hand, ma’am?
When Bishop takes Bishop,
And we face our true desires
We all deny our deepest truths
For Ego’s sake, for Pride’s joy.
What miserable life we lead
As we approach our end-games
This chessboard cleared of all
And the space evident in all things?
Queen to King’s Rook Three.
Discover Check. And trouble finds us.
Run we may, but hide we can’t.
Now matter where we turn to.
What is this you have in your hand,
Oh fallen man – son of Eve?
What is this you carry in your heart
Oh, daughter of the damned?
If King takes Knight Pawn,
I hope never again will it be said
That we sought for what we knew not
And that all man listened to his own heart.
We’re all Kings and Pawns,
A man once said to the world.
And he – that brilliant devil – he was right.
We’re all – all of us – Emperors. Fools.
Ask not what Mgbeke plans for dinner.
Wonder not when Mgbafo will get married.
What’s in your hand, people of God?
Mind your own business.
Nonso John
(C) 2021
When life maze feel so twisted
And hope looks bleak and faded
That all you think of is giving up
What is your hands?
And I’m not just talking about the lines!
When you have searched for help
Looking for job here and there
With no success story or record
What is in your hands?
And I’m not just talking about the lines!
When you desire to help that neighbour
But alas silver nor gold you have not
Nor them have you
What is in your hands?
I’m not just talking about the lines!
Only when we look again, we see
That the creator left no man empty
He gave gifts to all
So when next you face a crossroad
Look again to see what is in your hands
Ajegbomogun Olufunke
(c) 2021
Christ a poet 