The Forested desert

Its appearance was like a desert
Burning hot and bare in projection
I was already heading that way
So I’d rather take a look at it myself

The closer I got, the clearer I could see
Little green blades spouting out of the seemingly hardened clay
Different colours, shapes and sizes of flowers were opening up
The sound of life was faint but loud enough to be heard.
And the dry air was now blessed with the fragrance of tranquillity

Each step unfolded pleasant surprises;
Suddenly, those blades had grown so tall
Held up by thick brown stands
They spread their Afros like umbrellas against the harsh rays
Colours were lifting with wings and their chirping was high pitched albeit pleasant to the ears

When I looked down, instead of a shadow I saw my reflection
Clearly staring back at me upon the flowing waters – so clear and Pure
It followed a path as though controlled by the melody from a Piper’s pipe
And out of it came cold peaceful air that filled the Forest

Oh, I just called it a ‘Forest
I could vividly remember it was a desert I saw
So dry it could crack a shadow casted on it
Right there, I couldn’t even see my shadow
For the rays of the Sun barely pierced through the thick afro leaves
And oh, what beautiful glitters it formed on the water surface.

It’s a transformation I thought only existed in Disney world
It happened so fast yet slow enough that I could have sworn I was there for hours
But it was so real
So peaceful, so cool, so fertile and so perfect as it appeared before me

“Until the spirit be poured
upon us from on high,
And the wilderness be a fruitful field,
And the fruitful field be counted for a forest.”

It wasn’t just a dream,
it is real.

PearlyThoughtz
©2021

Broken ceramics

I have faint memories of my mother
I remember her as a cup
How she always found a way to hold it all together, just before she leaks
Trickles of water falling beside her straight slender figure, ceramic
Till the day daddy pushed her from the table and she broke
Pieces of her piercing little me, till one little pointy mummy tore through my left eye

Now I half see.
Deformed, they think I am
But with what hands would you erase memories’ scars?
With what hands would you race memories cars?
The speed limit of the past experiences dangling in your face before you even make the obvious decision
Those past experiences
Become the obvious decisions and so

I still cannot resist slender girl
Especially when they comment on my eyes
The one blue pupil that’s always learning new ways to shatter ceramic;
Hearts.
My past, present
How I with my fingers have rewritten daddy’s story on many lives.
If they never let go of their past
I’ll always be present, right on time
Before their next decision.

I wonder
If mummy would be proud that the vengeance I sought for her has made me Potter many more ceramics;
Broken
From tables, broken tablets, broken tables of laws
I have become ten plagues walking and everyone wants to chase from Egypt till they drown in a pool of their own tears tricking when they are full.
Maybe we give too much power to all the hurts that have Moses’ed their ways into our lives, dear lions forget about your pride and let his people go!

Finance peace,
UN-till the ridges you’ve prepared to plant hate
Until its roots can’t take in your heart any room.
So that any room you enter.
You’ll leave memories of water. Washing clean from dirt smeared hands, hearts, spirits, bodies, minds. Ceramics.
Set this on your heart
And set the captives free from Egypt.

God has called you, now lead, and let his people go.

UC Truth
©2021

Christ Is Enough


These fleshy hunger pangs, could leave the mind blind.
Quite often the seeds the word since sowed, get crushed because I’m on my grind.
“My brother hustle o, that money we dey find”
quick to forget the search I’m in is of a kingdom kind.

Always remember
to choose Christ, is not really to choose
I remember thinking what it is am I even to lose
these
earthly offers are rather vain, and merely a ruse
the Godfather made an offer I couldn’t refuse.

Ini Brown
(C) 2021

The Changed Man

Behold all things have become new
and the old lie in a forgotten heap
childish memories of me digging
underneath my bed on a Sunday morning
for where I’d tossed in my old pair of shoes
nowadays the changed me keep them up neatly
on a rung of wooden stiles the carpenter calls a shoe rack

Bible sleeps on a bedside stool
for a constant bath in Holy words I reach
across to it as often as I go
drink in words that lead, that guides
same letters in the book, a new meaning on the morrow

I remember mom’s narration on Joseph
please tell Dolly Parton
I share same story with her Coat Of Many Colours
only I took mine to many tailors
at the price of my chopped sandal soles
shoes on worn out feet
grazing gravelled road as they bleed
thank God, praise God I sing
because no longer do I handpick rags
all I see are tailor-made suits
my wardrobe is a rainbow of clothes
none having no holes

Nonetheless what I have outgrown is
the filthy old man inside of me
that cheated at elementary school
and purloined mum’s ten kobo
when she was busy at the hearth
One day aunt Betty suffocated my wrists inside mum’s purse
and gave me her two kobo
number eight of the decalogue says, ”Thou shalt not steal”
I hear you ma, my heart thumps with complete remorse
Tell that to the birds, coo that to baby lions
Whisper that in the ears of insensitive politicians
and the starved masses reaping where they did not sow
maybe they’ll pause then retrace their steps
and make way for the new experience.

Rebekah E.
© 2020

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

In Sickness

You were supposed to have his back,
Be his anti-body in this sinful world,
He broke the tablets of our hearts,
When he left us for you,
You had him looking above this cloud,
This cloud of flaws hovering over humans,
You were his mentor; a star guiding him into this Perfect life,
A view obscured and inverted to our hearts,
But a clear and perfect reflection to him,

He never for once ignored your call,
Remember when he housed you with his sisters; Mary and Martha,
He never for once judged and questioned you,
But when he needed you,
You were far from home,
You could have used one of your tricks,
To race against time and space,
But you didn’t, instead, you chose your work over him,
I guess he was always a second choice,
A means to an end; the path to our hearts,

Four days! He has been dead,
This tomb now clothes his lifeless body,
The passage to the afterlife,
And here you come with your twelve,
Wearing sad faces and tears,
Like a kid who lost his candy,
If only the news of his sickness,
Had quickened your feet,
To behold your friend on his sickbed,
Maybe he would have seen another sunset,
Maybe I would have felt his lips on my forehead,
Maybe his Aunt would embraced his warmth one last time,
Just enough for us to bid him farewell,
But you abandoned him,
You broke your vows,
The communion of promises you both shared with one another,
Sleep on Lazarus,
Your friend, Jesus is here,
To say goodbye to his dear friend,
Whom in sickness, he abandoned!

Olaoye Adeleye
(C) 2020

Who I Belong To

I’ve heard of the sweat and essence
Of loved ones
Worn in a vial around the neck
Wrapping them in the fragrance of love

I’ve heard of a lady’s favour
Worn on armour
To protect the soldier in battle
And surround them with home

I’ve heard of love marks
Left by lovers
Like dogs marking their territory
Each tiny red welt saying “mine”

I’ve always wanted one of those
I’ve always wanted to feel owned
And belonged to
And belonging to

This craving has drove me into the arms
Of pharaohs and philistines
And mad scientists and thieves
Who plunder and take and take apart

I seemed to have forgotten
I did belong to One
Father, Son and Spirit

I wore the fragrance of His peace
My heart was His favour
Worn around His ‘holey’ palms in pride
His Spirit was my love mark
Shining through my words and my eyes and my prayers
Screaming “Mine!”

When I did remember
My world was alright again.

Ifechukwu Miracle
©2020

God’s Waiting Room

I hope I am able to achieve this
On the invisible canvas of your mind
All I have got are word paints and brushes
To paint a picture that speaks to you to
Stay in God’s waiting room

Ever seen a pregnant woman?
I guess you have
What do you think or know goes on in there?
A lot, right?
Growth, formation, connection
And I know you know it takes 9 months to get a birth

Ever compared that to your life?
You are like a pregnant woman
With the vision and the dreams you have in you
But just like the pregnant woman, you have got to wait
Wait to grow, wait to form, wait to connect the more, wait to learn, wait to unlearn and relearn

Here’s the important thing when waiting, your attitude.
God’s more interested in what you do while waiting than the waiting itself.
You are a being in time while God’s beyond time
You know now, you see now, but God knows the after now and he sees the after now
So when God gives you a word, a dream, a vision
You had better relax in his word remember he said, “wait though it tarries”

Elijah could as well have given up before the seventh time to see the cloud as tiny as the hand of a man
But he waited for his cloud of confirmation
So when it looks like you are tired of waiting, look out for the clouds of confirmation
Right therein his word because he is not a man that should lie.
So wait for it, for the vision, dream , word whatever you have been told cos it must come to pass.
And know that you are not the only one waiting, there a lot others,
God is preparing everything for you and you for everything
So grab a seat and wait in his waiting room until your name is called.

Phyl
©2020