A little about love

colour of love

The colours of love are wonderful,
Through which we see life is beautiful.
Spiralling like a gift of rainbow,
It’s hue brightens, casting off shadows.

The smooth touch of love is wonderful.
Like lightning, its force is powerful.
Cascading like the wind over trees,
It floods the heart with fadeless thrills.

The music of love is wonderful.
Like R&B, it’s deep and soulful.
Caressing like cool breeze in summer,
It leaves the soul calm, the heart healthier.

The language of love is wonderful.
It is kind, gentle, true, not prideful
Speaking above doubts and fearful whims,
It corrects, forgives and forgets sins.

The heart of love is so wonderful,
Full of care, it makes life colourful.
Bearing the pains and burdens for others,
It barely does note when it suffers.

The fire of love is wonderful.
Pure flaming passion burn, yet peaceful
Unfading and growing each new day, It enraptures the mind in countless ways.

The true cost of love is wonderful;
Sacrifice, sometimes steep and painful.
Pondering on its deep selflessness,
You find that to be loved is to be blessed.

Hence when that day, One so wonderful,
Chose to take the place of the sinful,
He did not mull it over nor hove.
To the cross He went, driven by love.

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The mind’s Voice

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Rippled sounds of my squeaking voice,
Echoes in my own head.
It bellows loud in the silence;
As I lay on my bed:

“Today again, you tried in vain.
Overhead, the night looms.
Do you see the sun pale, strengths wane?
Yet no spring flower blooms.

The frontline’s for the stern and stout.
Your place is in the shades.
All who dare, face a ruthless rout.”
With these taunts, my hope fades.

The husky voices of strangers,
Fade with each striding step.
But my heart’s own whimpering whispers,
Grow louder with each step.

These fears, threaten to sink my dream.
Words seek to make me drown.
Against my mind’s current, I swim.
It takes all of my brawn.

It’s a cycle as old as me,
A tale of void shackles.
And often when I think I’m free,
It speaks; my mind buckles.

Alas! I found they’re all shadows;
They are not even mine.
I peer in them but find hollows.
I wonder, why did I whine?

The Book was what opened my ears,
To hear beyond my mind.
Now those rippled sounds and fears,
Have all been cast behind.

SILENCE

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Photo: Nathan Wirth

Silence, you are not a good friend.
I give you my doubts and fears to mend
And you make me your prisoner.

Yet when I oft would opt to speak,
There are no listening ears near to pick.
So I am lone with you silence.

Silence, you have a real bad side.
I give you my pains and tears to hide
And my heart’s turned to a cauldron.

Yet when I did let my eyes leak,
They pelted me, saying I was weak.
Then I recoiled into silence.

Silence, you play me like a fool
I choose to leave the matter with you
And I am left to clean the mess.

Yet when I call wrongs to account,
They accuse me of seeking to haunt
And I’m pushed to live in silence.

Silence, you are a heavy stone.
See the weight I have to bear alone,
Of cares and needs I would not share

Yet I fear, no shoulders are free,
That’d gladly bear the burdens with me.
So sadly, I strain in silence.

Silence you’ll be my alibi,
While I take solace in the divine,
For things I cannot do or tell.

Perhaps I’ll find one warm and wise,
Who would listen well and not despise,
Then I’ll leave this shell of silence.

Deathly vapour

Deathly vapour

Fizzling grey clouds from burning lungs
And caustic scents of crouching tumour,
Hovers the air across the streets.
Rising high from black lips and charred tongues,
Many perceive it and humour,
Till the bodies cringe in deathly fits.
Ti’s the smoky taste of slow death
It teases your mind and steals your health

The cost is too cheap for the price
And the price is too steep for the risk
Some say it is no man’s headache,
Still many hearts will bleed when one dies.
When vital organs, hale and brisk,
Are soon gnawed away by poisoned smoke.

The old and young alike are snared,
By the manacles of tobacco.
They’re all prisoners of fire.
Blood stained smoke, trickles their burning veins,
Yet they add more wood from the shed.
The signs are there, even the death call.
But there they are in the mire,
Sinking deep in their addictive pains.

Heed the call today and seek help.
Soon it’ll become a lethal Yelp.
All flesh like grass will soon wither.
Must yours be by the flame of cigar?
If the life you have is a gift,
The least you’d do is appreciate it.
Tomorrow may be late for change,
So make the choice now, to leave this cage.

ARIKE

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Heartbeat after heartbeat, I long for you
With every breath, your aura pulls me in
Missing you is now a sweet-sad habit.
Some times mindless smiling is all I do,
When I feel your warm touch from deep within.
Hazy days are brightened by your love’s light,
And every night glows, when it’s you with me.
If my heart had a lock, I’d give you the key.

With dreamy eyes, I wake up to thoughts of you.
The morn light reminds me what you mean;
It speaks of brightness and warmth so sweet,
And echoes all the treasures of you anew.
Like DNA, you’re branded in my being.
If you were a shadow, I’ll be chasing it.
Like your name, I have found a rose to pet;
A priceless gift to love, hold and protect.

God must no doubt, love me ever so dearly
Cos this gift of you is divine and pearly.
I pray that I’ll daily be a better me;
So I’ll always hold your hand, Arike mi.

AWOOF

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He climbs through thorns to reach the ripe clusters.
He stretches an arm, they fall to the ground.
The monkey shows up, picks them and scampers.
The climber came down, leaves were all he found.
Dazed by bane, dumb with pain, he stood aloof.
Gone with another’s spoils, he ate “awoof”.

With a loving heart and strong arms he works;
He would not have his wedded bride suffer.
Yet behind him, his dear friend jeers and mocks:
He digs the well but I drink the water.
Sadly he is a fool under his roof.
In his heart, his friend cheers himself “awoof”.

Hungry souls flood the halls and fill the pews;
Sad, bruised and broken, all they have is hope.
The preacher speaks, he says I have good news.
It’ll wash all your fears away, buy my soap.
Yet all they get is brainwash, still they goof.
The preacher pats his tum, he sneers “awoof”.

His barn is stocked with huge and healthy tubers,
Countless silos spill over with fine grains.
With teary eyes he asks the poor farmers:
“Please just a tuber and some little grains”.
They share their harvest with kind-hearted grief.
In light-hearted chants, he bellows “awoof”.

Her big belly, comfort of barren years
Now in labour, she pushes for her prize.
Then she wakes up in a sad pool of tears,
There lies a child, without life in its eyes.
“Ti’s done madam; she’ll never find a proof”.
She pays the agreed price and sings “awoof”

The monkey’s fully grown, strong and swinging.
The man’s still as sneaky, now in his prime.
The woman’s as sound as the sun’s golden.
One thought they share; “it’s surely not my time”.
Then comes the reaper with his sword and stealth.
As he takes them home, he sings them “awoof”.

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‘Awoof’ is a Nigerian pidgin english term that commonly refers to something ‘free’, that which one gets without having to work for it. This often includes things gotten through dubious means even at the expense and detriment of other people. Hence it often represents greed.

The Voice

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Spaces have been empty and days just blank
This bubbling brook had failed those who once drank
My voice sank under-bed like a wet plank
I watched hours as they helplessly shrank
Unladen with ink they were blandly dank
Like a faulty freight at the river bank
I sat unused till my forlorn heart sank
I just sat there scrapping my rusty tank

My voice faded but the songs never stopped
It hummed in my head sweet and sour beats
These many days it was a load I bore
A load of lyrics to paint you the world
Its beauty its pain its love and its hate
And to be a voice as in days of yore

As I rid me of literary mildew
To kiss the fresh fragrance of poetic air
Do know that you out there are my passion
The thoughts of you make every word brand new
And since you are there I know I can dare
All I ask is for a heart to write on

Our Motherland

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Nigeria our motherland you are
And we have waited to be nourished
Importunate
To feed off your fat
But now
We weary to call you ma
With our past and present well famished
Alas you’ve broken many a heart
Dare I say as a mother you failed
Perhaps
It’s the children who strayed

Nigeria our motherland we say
Then I thought
Who mothered our mother
Who raised her and taught her to nurture
Was she groomed
Has she grown
Has she
Nay
Now for our woes
Whom do we finger
With whom lies the hope for the future
I dare say we must now cease to rant
And stop the search for gold while we plant

Nigeria our motherland will yet be
But we now
Cannot be her children
Today we’ll work with strong arms and brains
It may be too soon for you and me
To see the chicks from the mother hen
For our toils
We may have little gains
But our eyes
Must be for the ones she’ll nurse
When our motherland has fed from us

Reflections

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To brim is to be empty
And to grow is to be low
Life is not always pretty,
Yet the wise can make it so

Life ends, the story begins
The clock stops, but time’s ticking
Eighteen’s the dream of teens
There they seek the bright lining

Night fades, the world is still dark
Songs play but there’s no music
Dawn’s early but late for the lark
Where death calls, there men frolic

Tears flow, it cleanses the soul
The pain is gone, not the scars
Loveless words will take their toll
The echoes clear, not the chars

Love is there, but hearts are cold
It’s as lame and dumb as us
Truth is scarce and just as old
I wonder, what is our course

The earth’s weighty, yet it floats
But our cares, leave us drowning
Birds sing never writing notes,
Still the world’s always mourning

I write, not exactly for fun
In these lines, I bare my heart
It’s for you and me I gun,
Perhaps we’d make a fresh start

Nature’s Wonders

Canadian Horseshoe Falls, Niagara Falls, Ontario
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The sky is blue and fair,
When the dust is in the air
My eyes cannot see or tell
All my noses breathe and smell

Little birds sing of good things
The world has so many beauties
And my ears do love to hear
More gist than my mouth can share

The sweet scent of spring flowers
Skies rimmed with rainbow colours
All speak of divine wisdom,
Of beauties I can’t fathom

The warm tingly rays of morning
The songs of insects at evening,
Warm the heart and tease the mind
Their charm’s unmatched in its kind

The growl of the king lion
The strides of the war stallion
Rend hearts and leaves all in awe
I wonder, to whom they do bow

Man is always about learning,
His heart never stops searching
But I have gone to and fro
Yet how much do I know