A Literary Rally of Love and Hurt

In the Penspeak Community UNEC, February Freestyles were a joy. On February 7, 2025 Iruoma kicked off;

A pilgrim’s journey to a world of plain
where I burned every bridge to find a way
My cardiac compass led me through this rugged terrain
With convictions so strong to betray
I followed to discover, this beacon of light
But each step, was a test of will
And every staking breath I lived
Was a stench in misery to give

Every turn was a sink, in a pool of despair
Every weight crushing, without a care
Yet to this world of plain, a beautiful siege, I found solace
To its music in echieteka, I danced deep to its rhythm
In ignorance of the consequences to come
The demons with enticing melody sing,
luring my lost soul to eternal doom
every move was a compromise
And Peace sold in delicate balance between darkness and light

I’ve found a different route,
where life and light entwine, A world of truth
A world of hope, the saints eternal home.
I see the truth now
And with heart in total devotion
I sing a unique symphony, that echoes the sound of a soul that’s free.

February 14, 2025 A freestyle by Neche Goodnews

We met like faith intended
Astrologers say the stars aligned for us
Palmists tap our palms and declared our fates intertwined
The dibia sees our one future
I don’t really care about all that
I care about what God says for us

What use is a tree without wood, a human without intelligence, a skyscraper without its framework?
Of what use is my world without you in it?
Its uses become less and less till it becomes useless

My one of a kind, my unique, my priceless discovery
You’re not a cog in a machine, not a gear
You’re my complement
My joy irreplaceable
There’s no other you, it’s just you
The thought of another is sacrilegious to me
People pray for a MumZee moment but I got that when we found our spark
Oko mi, Ololufe mi, a furu m gị na anya
Take a seat by my right side and let me show the world my irreplaceable one

Friday 21, 2025 Iruoma began;

Of all terrestrial blessings bestowed
The celestial luminaries that twinkle
Breath that marks the beauty of living
The blessed morning dew that falls
The greatest of all treasures beyond compare
Is God’s gift of his son, christ.

Neche Goodnews then followed through;

A knock on the door, a greetings at the door post, a welcome and an attempt at conversion
A knock at another door, greetings once again, but this time dismissal and rejection is given

The sacred journey of the missionaries
Wanderers of the Holy order
Marked by the Omni being
A higher placement than Cain they are not stained
They have not slain but are prepared to take the pain of the bane

God’s front line, God’s bravest
Courage that dwarfs that of David
Faith that rivals Abraham’s
Only his most daring actually take up this holy order, this great commission

You look flabbergasted, who is this Omni being I speak of that would be willing to do this to his most daring followers?
Whose orders? What orders?
Your heart knows who he is
Your lips shapen to speak his name
He is the one your heart beats for, it’s first love
He goes by I AM THAT I AM
The Bible does well to speak of him in details

Wanna know what those others are?
Have you heard of The Great Commission?
The good news brought unto the world
Grab your book and take notes
You have a lot to learn
Let me introduce you to salvation

That is it for February! Stay loved, stay blessed! The March will be glorious

Authors
Iruoma
Neche Goodnews

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

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.

An awful conclusion

To falter is an option to be ignored right there when spurred.

But leaves an ‘I don’t care nod‘ instead of a step.

Air has made the balloon fatter while past failures still lurks around.

Know that purpose is a deep water.

Understanding will lure the fountain within not you standing so sure you have a brain to count on, with conscious efforts of kneeling be ready to birth a mountain.

“Where was that brain of yours when comfort zone stole time and left you pained?”

“Where was your brain when the added weight kept altering every step you took to catch up with the train?”

“Where was your brain when the candle within was quenched and you were drained?”

An awful conclusion it is, one propelled by absence of Divination.

The altar needs fire not water. Farther will age read unless a retreat is called.

The altar needs consistency not a ‘once in a blue moon visitor.’

The altar needs to be mobile not cold because the author won’t speak until visiting becomes hourly even though tagged odd

The altar will draw so much and won’t tire when on fire!

– Ebubechi
(c) 2021

FALLEN AT HIS FEET

I carry no fear on my shoulders
I have saved no teardrop to shed
I have left every iota of worries

Fallen at His feet, fallen, where sin is
Fallen at His feet, gathered in dirt heap

Worries? They have no rooms in me for rent
Harmony, peace and joy cram the whole story
Every other issue is backstory

Fallen at His feet, fallen, where sin is
Fallen at His feet, gathered in dirt heap

Backstory is a tale of yesterday
I spend time now swimming in God’s love
Waves of pain, illness and disease are

Fallen at His feet, fallen, where sin is
Fallen at His feet, gathered in dirt heap

Disease of the Egyptians shall not know me by name
Cancer is a raging empty threat
Hunger and starvation their powers rid

Fallen at His feet, fallen, where sin is
Fallen at His feet, gathered in dirt heap

Rid of gory garments and pierced sides
Christ rose in glory with fierce strides
Armed soldiers strapped with sleep

Fallen at His feet, fallen, where sin is
Fallen at His feet, gathered in dirt heap

Sleep in the arms of a loving mother
Tomorrow the fever with shudder
Because all the bugs in a million march lie

Fallen at His feet, fallen, where sin is
Fallen at His feet, gathered in dirt heap

March, march on Christian soldier
Relieved of every burdensome weight
Tomorrow is certain, today is fixed, last night is
Fallen at His feet, fallen, where sin is
Fallen at His feet, gathered in dirt heap

Rebekah E.
© 2020

Waking


I’m waking up again
I used to write mornings till I grew too cocky to crow at dawn
The sentences without blemish I’d pen to grow
I stopped for some reason I can’t fathom
I guess I wanted more style, or fact driven
I chased earnings becoming more consequential
I feel the reign coming, thought clouds from deep within evaporate into bare paper

I’m waking up again.
A flood alarm,
The flood I am, it’s not my time but I can’t wait.
Horns in hand, my head grows obligatory weight
Alcohol isn’t the only thing I drink responsibly

My aunt Chi told to watch out;
That when my eyes are too much,
I’m getting selfish
And so I close my eyes when whenever I write
It takes a toll on my poetry, and my pride too.

Or should I say “used to?”
I’m waking…

The Niel Quchi
(c) 2020

Things Unseen!

I don’t know much about faith,
But if mine could be measured,
I am sure a mustard seed would feel bigger,
And a feather would hold more weight,
And tip the scale more than my faith,
On any given SI Unit

I don’t know much about Agric science;
How one plants a seed in an unknown soil,
In the night, full of uncertainties,
Hoping it germinates into a plant,
Bearing fruits of things one wished for,

I don’t know much about moving Mountains,
But I know of the Faith,
That made a woman wrestle her way through a crowd,
So that her rain forest of blood could be a desert,
That multiplied five loaves and two fishes into thousands and five baskets,
That defied the law of physics,
So, Peter could walk on water,

I don’t know much about Miracles,
But I know the One,
That turned water to wine,
That called the dead out of his tomb,
And called the bluff of a storm,
He is the one I present this little seed to,
Hoping that the things unseen in my life,
Manifests into sights best known to man.

Olaoye Adeleye
(C) 2019

WILL YOU BE?


The trickle of salted water
Opened up the flood gates of its tap
The fiery gaze of hurt and pain
Like boiling blood
Will you be the hands to wipe off?

The bleeding of the shape I call love
The grief of the cut in two
The loss of the pieces fixed to it
Will you be the one to mend?

Like stones hurled at one
The weight you can’t bear
The pricks it leave behind
Of fear, of poor esteem
Will you soothe my ears?

Steps higher steps above
In doubt and fear
With skills but no grit
Will you be the one to urge on?

My love my perfect
Imperfectly perfect
Frail, grace and calm
Will you hold my hand?

When my eyes are covered with fear
And my hands quiver in despair
When my Feet drown in doubt
Will you be my Anchor

When the day wears a black gown
And the Sun refuses the smile
Hiding the face of the moon
Will you be the voice hope?

Oraegbu Philipa Ada
Olaoye Adeleye
© 2020