The Lover’s Recipe

While everyone around the world was basking in the euphoria of the acclaimed love day (Valentine’s Day), Penspeak Community UNIZIK got busy with their pens and spent the day reliving the nostalgia of God’s love.

The floor was thrown up and Delight blew us away with this piece;

 WHOSE ORDERS?

That a tiny acorn will make a mighty forest 
Wasn’t the loamy soil’s words to utter.
Dear child…I speak in voices as ancient as before.
I gave you gifts not like anyone else’s 
But you chose to be photographed through distorted lenses.
You followed rules written by hands you will never shake
Then ending at crossroads, you asked me “Lord what’s your take?
Those rules were written by hand…
Funny how you are ignorant to the power embedded in yours
You obeyed the “rites” discarding the “rights”
What a perfect mismatch you are!!
You were told to silence your own voice for the sake of the loud…
The loud voice said “conform” but in your heart you felt torn.
Torn between the needs of your soul and the rule you have been sold.
Is it freedom you seek or a cage in gold?
Bound by lines drawn by a mentally distorted ruler’s ruler
They said “follow” and you never asked why
You were wheedled to be fine with “just fine”.
They raised you to be small but your heart beats loud…louder than their expectations.
Dear child…if you would… listen.
The elders might call this rebellion 
But I call it my divine intention 
Your dreams and desires are my design
Your handwritten lifeline, mine to sign
Your steps are earthquakes in their shallow puddles
You are to build bridges where they said walls stood
You are not a footnote in their stories.
You are the headline yet they don’t want to see your headlines.
Prior to forming you, I knew thee.
I know your deepest sleep even your purest glee 
So, whose orders if not mine?

Mc Wisdom came in right after and dropped this;

GOOD FOOD

Just can’t wait until it gets to the plate
Aromas that dance, through a culinary state
Tenderly cooked, with love and with care
Each bite a story, beyond compare

The cutting, slicing, sizzling, crackling, mixing,
 a continuous process that lives you wanting and yawning 

Oh, the joy of good food, that brings us together
A universal love language,
The norming around the dinner table 
The joy and laughter that’s uncontrollable, that transcends this weather, and leaves you warm.

A taste of nostalgia, a hint of home.
Good food that nourishes the body and soul,
Makes you forget your problem for a moment, leaving you whole.

So, here’s to the chefs, the cooks, and the bakers
The farmers, the fishermen, and the food makers
My mom, dad, siblings, friends, family 
Thank you for the feast, for the flavours and the fun
Good food that brings us to the table, as one.

With the floor and curtains intact, Delight waltz in with so much inspiration and gave us;

HOSEA 2🥰

I was once yours, you were once mine.
But in the shadows, you slipped away,  
Chasing after lovers who didn’t care,  
Trading true love for a false comfort,  
An affair with idols, a broken vow in the temple of desire.  
You left me but every step you took, I felt it,  
Every kiss you gave, I tasted it.  
Your heart wandered, but mine stayed rooted,  
Waiting, holding on,  
Gripping the promise of what was.

But love is not blind– it sees the truth,  
And the truth cuts deep.
So, hear me now:  

I will no longer cover your shame,  
I will no longer veil your mistakes, for you’ve turned your back, 
And I must speak of the consequences.  
The gates will close, the blessings will fade,  
Your fields will wither, and your heart will ache,  
As the world you built crumbles beneath your feet.  
But in this silence, in this solitude,  
You’ll hear my voice again and I won’t leave you there,  

For even in the wilderness,  
I am here, I will allure you,  
I will call your name and I will take you back,  
Not as a servant, but as my bride.  
I’ll speak comfort to your broken heart,  
Restore the years you’ve lost to wandering,  
Your valley of despair will become a place of hope,  
Your shame will be washed clean,  
And the shame you once wore,  
Will be replaced with a crown of righteousness.  
I will lead you to a new covenant, A promise of peace,  
Where love reigns.
Where mercy is poured like rain on dry ground,  
Where my faithfulness holds you close. I will be your God,  
And you will be my people,  
And together, we’ll make all things new.  
The name you once wore,  
The name of betrayal,
Will be changed.  
You will be called “My Delight,”  
And I will call you “My Beloved.”  

Forever,  
And nothing will ever tear us apart again.

What a love! What a God! See you next month for another freestyle!

Authors
MC WISDOM
DELIGHT SHEKELS

NOT A WARNING SIGN

Numbers 26:10 (MSG) The Earth opened its jaw and swallowed them along with Korah’s gang who died when the fire ate them up, all 250 of them. After all these years, they’re still a warning sign.


In Numbers 16, we see people in positions of leadership use their influence wrongly to rebel and cause others to rebel which eventually cost them their lives. Until tomorrow, they will be referred to as bad eggs regardless the good they had done in the past. It takes time to build a reputation, but one day is enough for one wind of error to rubbish all that you have built.


One thing rebellion does is portray a man as a warning sign. Yes! I want to be a sign but not one that draws caution into the ears of men. I can’t afford to be a warning sign.


I am not saying we can’t make mistakes, no. But our lives should not end on the platform of error. May we still be alive to put our lives in order. I read of a man who was perceived as wicked because of his inventions but by divine orchestration, he was privileged to read his own biography thus gaining access into peoples’ thoughts about him. That encounter changed his entire life and today, even in death, he is remembered and celebrated, not for his past life, but for the turns he took in the right direction. His name is ALFRED NOBEL.


Years after you are long gone, what do you want to be remembered as; a warning sign or a worthy example? Take your pick.


EZEKIEL, C. PRISCILLA
YIELDED BONES INT’L
©2020

TALE OF THE HEAVENS

Far away
Away as the waters that once finds its dwelling at shore

How far is far
Are you talking about endless oceans or a stary sky?

I have lost my rhythm at the sound of the endless ocean
Scared to trace the pathway
Which I once trusted as the Broadway

The way to the Broadway can be deceptive
But we are receptive to the leading of the rhythm within
The one that leads to the path of life

The path of life
The crown of eternity
Grizzled with Gold and emerald
Joining the Herald
The cherubs and seraphs in the song of redemption

The very redemption that liberates
The one that exposes me to my strengths
The joy is unending
This song ushers me to rivers of living water

Most times I hear more about angels singing
But poetry is hardly talked about
Does the angel write?
Is poetry their kind?

If they ever wrote I wonder what colour the words displayed
But I think to myself, if Christ is a poet then maybe their is a trace that leaves clues

Maybe they write in blue
Or green, or pink,
No, I think golden, because of the golden scroll
Maybe not
Maybe black or brown or no color
Maybe their ways is a mystery to unravel

I think a greater mystery to unravel is the way they study their master through us, the chosen once, the once who have given themselves to the Word

It teaches me the true way of a living master
That conquered me in my rebellion
Adonai
That divided the river Nile

The Niles hear and see
They are receptive to the masters voice
Same way they can be with ours
Cause the signet has been placed on us

Imani Dokubo
The Alchemist
© 2019

HELL IN THREE STANZAS

Hell is rebellion
Pulling plug on life source
Drifting off from Definition
Dissolving into nothingness
Like fading fragrance mocked
By the briefness of its glory days

Hell is silence, is crushing grieved cries
Of wild drunken raves, quiet robbery
And the cold indifference of a million Church pews
The stench of pious hatred
The rot of carousing infidels
And the carcass of juggling both these

Hell is bitter dead end to living sweet route mirage
Trap Disneyland, minus innocence
It’s the sick deal Christ scrapes off the table
Evil’s two faced grand joker
Swept aside by God’s deft Checkmate
Process reverse, death-to-Life card

Ikenna Nwachukwu Alexander
© 2019