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

A chip of ice- for mum

Your teardrops would battle fiercely
From the corners of your eyes
They would force their way through
The rigid, unyielding valley of your eyelids
And when they fell
They would stab your cheeks, twist your nose
And sting the recesses of your jaw

Yet when they fell,
They were like the sudden rain that mocked the Sahara
Like the mango tree growing in the Arctic
They were a wonder, and so were you.
For you loved me
Like icy cold, angry waters hammering on rocks
Falling

From unbelievable heights, through the distance between us
Screaming, raging and filled with the frustration
That your decades had fed you
As you crisscrossed naked open seas, flogged by the sun
And through lush green forests
With dwindling mud tracks and filthy streams
Falling

Defying boulders and meanders that had beaten you into thin ice
And kept you on your tiptoes with your back bent
Trying to meet my needs
Through cold, dark nights when you slept
With the biting in your belly
With the uncertainty of worry
Yet you flowed, silent and rapid
Falling,

Through the secrets you swallowed as you went by
And the hurts which never made you cry
And the sorrows you fought to bring forth life
With a charming smile on your face.
You shamed the hardness
That shaped your life
And you crashed against my rocky heart
With the weight of ages of ice
You flogged me, you tore me, you tested me
In my blindness, you were my foe
But I have received the warmth sparked
By the slap of your coldness
And I have melted in love
Your love is hidden in my heart of ice

Ndubuisi Chioma J
© 2019

Questions Crossed Out

My wailing,
What does it weigh,
Against the sighs of seven billion souls, each,
Digging wounds into my already shattered depths,

My breathing,
What does it matter,
When it’s lost in waves of first winds drawn and last gasps sown,
Lashing earth for eons,

My living,
Is it a rare gem or a speck of dust,
Amongst countless weddings, empires collapsing,
And the universe’s billionth galaxy collision,

The answer,
Is a death to cross these questions out,
The meaning of existence, hanging on a stake,
For my sake.

Ikenna Nwachukwu
© 2018