Ode to Poetry

Oh poetry, art of language divine,
With words that flow, in meter and rhyme,
You paint a picture with each verse and line,
A tapestry woven, with thought so fine.

You give voice to what lies in the heart,
Emotions raw, made into art,
With rhythm and sound, you play your part,
To heal and comfort, from the start.

You take us on journeys to far off lands,
To meet characters, in your written hands,
You let us feel what it’s like to stand,
In someone else’s shoes, and understand.

Poetry, you challenge and inspire,
With truth and beauty, you never tire,
A spark that ignites, with a single fire,
Bringing wonder to all, higher and higher.

So here’s to you,
dear poetry, we sing,
With each word,
our hearts take flight
and wing,
With you, we soar, our spirits take wing,
You are the soul of language, the art it brings.

Tolulope Amao
© 2023

The Missing Me

The garden,
fresh and full.
I wasn’t alone in the garden.

I named the tress,
I named the birds and beasts, I named the river,mountains and all things.

I was happy with all I named
But a part of me was missing inside me.

I looked for this part of myself in the garden
I looked at the cows
I didn’t find it

I looked at the monkeys
I didn’t find it
I looked all around
Yet I couldn’t find the missing me.

Out of frustration
I ignored a strong part of me in the ocean of nothingness.

I ignored the rhythmic vibration that this lost self keep echoing in space.

But , one day
I slept soundly as usual
In my wood carving shade.

Maybe God came
I don’t remember
But the tortoise affirms
That He opened my body and took a rib to create the missing me for me.

Now standing tall
Standing fulfilled
Standing whole
I have found my entire self.

Ugwu David C. ©2023

Dear Black Child

Dear black child, You will heal
Heal from the scars buried 6 feet
Deep within the pores of your skin
Wounds that festered on your emotions
And shattered your heart into a million pieces
Now your heart is nothing but a broken glass
Learning how to reflect your wholeness
The image of a girl that once loved

Centuries from now,
When the dust is shaped from your bones,
History will tell a tale of courage,
Of a woman who pulled her weight,
Against the odds clawed around her neck,
How from ashes and burning embers
Built an Empire with and sweat,

Your bones will be a blueprint,
A speck of dust igniting generations,
A gene of women who don’t bend to raging winds,
History will tell a tale of a Woman,
A Warrior emerging from within you,
How you faced your fears,
And became a woman emerging,
An open letter when they unearth you,

A testament of weathering storms,
Taking down giants with your love,
You are a promise of resurrection,
Reminding them that red sea parted in your views,
And when you whispered your last breath,
The night spoke the language of love,
Living blueprints in our heart,

Dear Black child,
You are a miracle folded in the form of a woman,
A woman becoming, learning the intricate language of love,
You were born for this sort of heavy lifting,
You were born a part saint, a part warrior,
And you have emerged the Genesis
Of a new breed of women,
A linkage of goddesses

Dear black child,
You are a goddess,
An ancient scripture,
A prophecy lies in your heartbeat,
This revelation is nestled in your palms;
Truly, greatness lies in your loins!
Live it! Breathe it!


Olaoye Adeleye
(C) 2021.

What do I have in my hand?

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

Yes, I can! I have no fear

Like a goat strutting along the green path
Looking left and right as it goes
Believe In your dreams, do not give up
Raise your bowed head and aloud declare
Yes, I can! I have no fear

Like an eagle spreading its wings soaring high
In the deep blue sky above unperturbed
Spread out your wings and aim high for the sky
Pursuing your goals with a little sigh saying
Yes, I can! I have no fear

Like a lion devours its prey unperturbed
Refusing the distractions so much around
Surmount your oppositions doggedly
Leaving behind no excuses, be reminded-
Yes, I can! I have no fear

Like a man pursues a beautiful maid unrelenting
Set your mind solely on your goals, be determined
Let your eyes look straight ahead unwavering
Forget your failures, they are passed, rise and say
Yes, I can! I have no fear

Try again, yet again and once again
When failures stare at you in the face
Striking you its numerous vicious blows
Let in your mind like water, these thoughts flow
Yes, I can! I have no fear

Every success comes with a story
Containing failures untold, part of the glory
Visible to the eyes often is the triumph
So when life pursuits bring setbacks so rough and tough
Get up and say yes, I can! I have no fear.

2nd Timothy 1:7 “God has not given us the Spirit of Fear, but that of power, and of love and of a sound mind”

Every success comes with a story
Containing failures untold, part of the glory
Visible to the eyes often is the triumph
So when life pursuits bring setbacks so rough and tough
Get up and say yes, I can! I have no fear.

Ajegbomogun Olufunke
©2021

Drive Past It

I stopped driving at 16 when I had my first accident. The cost of it all made me decide to let the keys go, like lovers on some bridge in Paris, after adding their locks to the teeming number that will cripple the bridge.

This is not a poem. And it is not about lucks or keys
or a kiss or about spoon feeding emotions
or trying to have a relationship
or driving a career worthy of a Fast and Furious adaptation or a Shakespeare narration.

This is to the one who has felt heartbreak close up but, like one of the blind asked to describe the structure of the elephant, will take my words with a pinch of salt. Add it to that part of your wound that a heartbreak caused, cover your cracks with it, do an Nsibidi inscription on your sensitivity.

Heartbreaks are bad for your Health.

Remember when I said I stopped driving, well, I will drive again, and again and again and again. That is how hearts get broken…and heal.

You love or trust or have certain expectations for/from people, their inability to meet up or match your expectations leaves you hurt, and now I have been summoned from Frankenstein’s grave to tell you this;

Don’t stop loving, don’t stop being optimistic, don’t stop expecting the best from people.

Don’t stop believing…
Don’t stop loving…
That is how hearts get broken…and heal enough to heal other broken hearts.


Ice Nwa Ǹkwọ
©2020