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

What’s in your hand?

What’s in your hand?

Sand
I had the first throw
He fought well but had to let go
He’s in a better place but how do we know?

What’s in your Hand?
Needle!!
Fluid soldiers running to my rescue
Mounting pillars to save my temple
It’s wide enough for prayers to pass through

What’s in your Hand?
My Head!!
It’s kicking like I’m pregnant again.
It’ll fall off if I leave it to stay.
This headache don’t respect prayers again.

What’s in your hand
Testimony.
I’m Fine. Healed. Healthy.

Uche Faithful
©2021

These Shoes

I wear this spectacles of tinted glasses
I see these golden flashes, rays, colours that sits well with me
I mean these oval screens before my eyes make me see better

I don’t eat on Sundays before solemn services
To eat before paying Him a respect is to belittle him
This spectrum of mine must be what God wants for all men
No frowns or you could lose the crown.

I’m free to give the bible my own voice
It’s no noise, I’m helping God create a community
I mean a village of serious spiritual servants, you know?

My code of conduct is God’s standard
The bible isn’t enough
I make it whole

Symolean
© 2021

Parent Thing

Hail Mary, full of Grace…

Tell mothers their children are gifts with gifts in them. Not slaves who who will give birth to more slaves.

The Lord is with you, blessed art thee…

Tell fathers the world is changing, toxic masculinity is not therapy for the trauma.

Amongst women, and blessed is the fruit…

Tell children; your parents are gods. Adore and revere them. But never be afraid to tell them how you feel or pursue your dream. Deal with your trauma before bringing another kid into this world. Honour and respect all humans equally, God is the greatest, and madu abuho chukwu.

Of your womb…


Parenting is a partnership between parents and their kids. And like all partnerships, as long as the other partner is rational enough to think, their opinion on matters that concern them should be considered, too. You can be a good man, a good woman, but if your kids are not doing well, you will be tagged a bad parent. What does it tell you? The child holds a stake in this parenting business. Consider, build and uplift them. Not entirely in the conventional way, but in the way that is convenient for you and them.

now and at the hour of our death, amen

Ice Nwa Ǹkwọ
©2020

Why do I fear the stars – Part 2

They do not wear a dress of courage
Nor a garb of thorns
My shiny mysterious sisters of the night, lighting the skies.

They do not need to be reminded, they do not forget.
Holding a billion promises, secret kisses, and passionate pleas.
They are witnesses, even when bones be ash.

Did you know you can bet on stars?
That you’ll never lose a bet on their suicide?
And agree or not
You must agree to disagree,
Their terrorism is a necessity.

I mean,
Suicide bombers are looked on with a mix of contempt and awe,
We see lives cut short in their prime,
By the most suffering is ever known to mankind.

We are shaken by the workings of a twisted mind,
And in retrospect
We all must agree
There is something to respect,
In a blood sacrifice for a belief.

Yet I digress.

This is about the stars and why I fear them.

They do not wear a dress of courage
Nor a garb of thorns

There is no self-preservation in their answer to duty’s call
They are courage in the flesh.

They do not need to be reminded, they do not forget.
That they matter and their sacrifice counts.
I mean,
Who motivates the stars to shine?

And did you know stars must burn to shine?
That they die with each burning?

Yet night after night without fail,
My shiny mysterious sisters of the night,
Circle the expanse of the clouds,
in a dance to the death.

This is why I fear the stars.

St. Davnique
© 2019