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

From This Moment


I have made up my mind not to lie
I will not quarrel with anybody till I die
I will restrain my tongue from speaking evil
and any word rooted in the devil
I will not despise anybody at any level

I will sing a new song to the Lord
I will make memories with no sword
I will keep my heart stayed on him
and my love will flow beyond the stream
I will crest his word on the tablet of my heart

I will preach the gospel with all boldness
I will proclaim that I have His life in fullness
I will listen to the still small voice in me
and I will put all of my trust in thee
I will shine my light for the whole world to see

Ogochukwu Nancy Peter
©2020

The Upgrade

I love you Lord;
For your voice means the world to me;
Say it, I’ll do it,
I needn’t understand
For you have made your dwelling with me.

O Lord you will lead me through the valleys,
Of the shadows of the death of me,
You O Lord puts the word in season in my mouth;
You have made my tongue the pen of a ready writer,
For you have chosen me for deeds noble.

I will never really understand your love,
How you choose to love an adulterer,
Or make prayers in folded palms,
For the ones whom a hole,
They drilled into your palms,
Or choose to let a kiss betray you,
And yet still gave your life,
As a sacrifice! All for what?
To prove your love for me,
Yes, I have denied you more than three times,
Yet, you choose to love me,
I guess my eyes will always see love differently,
Love that crossed my I’s,
Love on the crossed-eye
love of God, for I!

How do I tell this story,
A tale as old as two cities,
Before time could even speak,
My brain never seems to figure out the math,
Of how you could love scandalously,
How a Prince gave up everything,
To love a low-life like me!
My scars didn’t scare Him,
Rather He kissed them!
Now I see nothing but love!

And when I kept at you,
You looked at me so tender
You said, “spread your mercy abroad,
To the good and to the ungrateful,
You’re like me that way,
What I do for my living,
This is the upgrade you need”.

Olaoye Adeleye,
Favour Omeje,
©2020

Clouds

I wear these sunglasses to see
The shadowed paintings of the sun meet
My ever-wandering thoughts;
These wintered trees I fought.

I wear this fainne as though I’m at peace with my past
A broad smile, loud laugh like a ship’s mast
Then hug myself twice a day
As a promise never to let my mouth say

I shake hands with tomorrow
Afraid of all it could bring; love, joy, hate and sorrow
This bromance that refuses to align to a scheme
Like the clouds of this year in multiple themes

Symolean Mikado Goodest
© 2020

Take My Hands Instead

One pill…
Two pills…
Three pills…
And another…take my hands.

Isn’t that a perfect metaphor for how you go bananas, dig your feet into those coloured clips, stain your teeth with the feel, stain your fill with the filth, and assume the other filths fade?

Isn’t that how it makes you feel? The peel? No?

Then talk to me.

I want to hear it…take my hands.

This time, get high on the drug of my attention, snort on my love and exhale passion, and if clasping my hands will help, take them, let the tension go.

At first I didn’t listen because I thought it wasn’t you speaking. Your liver called out to me, your lungs did too, your strained heart cried out to me, I heard a million tears fall from your triggered body.

I don’t know and I probably won’t understand you. But I know that nobody puts a gun at his throat and expects to survive.

Give me the gun, and take my hands.
Dear Amanda

Ice Nwa Ǹkwọ
D. Niel Quchi
© 2020

Once Again

Once again , here I stand
Covering my face with a face pad
The world shouldn’t see these scars,
It’s petrifying to behold,
It reveals a story untold,
Lost hope, lost happiness and dreams torn apart.

Once again, here I stand
With my saviour hand in hand,
Saved, healed and restored.
Once battered but now full of joy
Forgetting the past story because the son has given a glory that lasts.

Princess Pirinye
© 2020

The Pause

I have heard great people speak
Thank God someone kept a record of their speeches
I have listened to how their words string
And they never miss to take a pause and think

It is not a lack of words I hear
For their capacity have never been one to yield
Yet with the abundance of words to wield
They take a pause to care for what they speak

The way they hide years between their words
Tells me there is no rush to prove my worth
Tis better to have never uttered a word
If you would regret it because you didn’t take a pause

Ezeonyeka Godswill
© 2020

It Makes No Difference

It makes no difference
If we are so different
That the nozzle
Of our presence
Does not exude reverence
Or give preference
To the one that gave life
It’s essence

It makes no difference
That we’ve become Workaholics
Busy with the work of the Lord
Without having time to fellowship
With the Lord of the Work

An Usher
That has not developed
The receptacle to usher in
The presence of God
Is a bouncer

A church member
That keeps a seat in Church
But does not keep in touch
With the Word he hears
From the church
Is a “Chairman”

It makes no difference
If we are not different
From the world
We were called to change
Instead, we rejoice and be glad
With our hands in chains

Why will a creature
Be forming Socrates
That he becomes so creative
In denying the existence
Of his creator

Why will the media
Become the truth
We crave to hear
Than the very Word
That gave “hearing”
To the ear

King Uwe
© 2020