SERIES IV OF WURAOLA

 

SERIES IV OF WURAOLA

Tell her, Begiola is lonely,
now I’m at loss,
Ibadan born never shows fear,
but here I am, shivering,
once again I’m betrayed,
even with my SUV and status,
my heart is broken.

Who can bring me back Wuraola?
is there any Knight in Ibadan,
that can rescue my beloved?
How many sacrificial items,
will it take Egungun Alapansanpa,
to return Wuraola to my arms now?

Ah! Luke 6:24,
will riches be my consolation now?
Oh No! Ori, take your riches,
and find me Wuraola again.
she’s stolen from me, my love is stolen,
snatched away by the cold hands of death,
just when I waved at her across the road,
Gbegilodo, agent of death, hit her!

SERIES III OF WURAOLA

SERIES III OF WURAOLA

Wuraola, it is not your fault that you left,
that you sought after greener pasture,
and left my Paul for Thessalonica,
I won’t blame your guts my love,
who prays to love in poverty,
and romance in abject lack of wealth?

A man is a man,
so our said,
while I ran errands for riches,
and beckoned the call for wealth,
there, doubts approached you.
I know my woman’s strength,
Like Romans 8:35, my love for you,
can’t be separated by any disappointment.

Wuraola, like I said in the past,
love knows no hurt,
love sees no pain and records no crime,
true love measures not with vengeance,
love sees only what it desires to see as love,
I am Begiola, my arms are open for you,
Wuraola, when shall I meet your father?

 

SERIES II of WURAOLA.

SERIES II OF WURAOLA

Ah! Wuraola is engaged,
the Lagos boy snatched her,
she’s snatched away like a bag at Oshodi,
he says he owns VI,
and about buying a rolls-Royce,
says he will show Wuraola Lagos,

I cried, and warned,
yet I’m labeled enemy of progress,
Wuraola after waiting for two months,
discovered she’s been defrauded.
not just the long time preserved virginity,
along the catered goods include,
our relationship of 7 years.

Now she returns to Mokola,
roaming the overhead bridge,
Only to discover I’m no longer there,
with a bike as usual,
as she turned left to wipe off her sweats,
behold, she saw me alight,
with a big smile, from a new SUV,
I now stay at Oluyole Estate,
IBADAN BOYS ARE LOYAL!!!

 

 

WURAOLA’S SERIES

 

WURAOLA’S SERIES

I am yours Wuraola,
the wind is strong,
yes, our storm is in rage,
the wind is like that of Katrina,
but we are not in Virginia or Miami,
this is Ibadan, ni ile Oluyole,
where love battles all to survive.

Let me take you on a trip Wuraola,
not to Dubia or Sri Lanka,
but to Agodi Resorts at Mokola,
where you’ll see the beautiful hills,
hills where Premier Hotel sits,
same hills where faithfuls go.

Wuraola, I want to take you around,
around my city Ibadan.
Come with me to the brown roofs here,
underneath sits, a god, Oke’badan.
these brown roofs gave birth,
to those you see driving exotic cars.
Manage the bike with me today,
tomorrow, we shall visit in our SUV.

ENOCH OJOTISA
www.akewiartshouse.com

Badiru Kehinde

 

 

I Know Why Your Mother Cries is Badiru’s first collection of poetry after years of writing for the social media space.

In his words, “This book contains poems I wrote from my heart,it’s my first published work. I sat reading some pages days ago with friends and they could almost cry, yet smiling”.

I Know Why Your Mother Cries (IKWYMC) is not just a collection of poetry but a manifestation of the tears mothers and women have cried and still cry. The collection is engaging, utilizes humour, collective imagery and creates a special eureka feeling which every one no matter class,age or gender can relate with. It addresses almost every motifs of life.

Every one born of a woman should find pleasure in this beauty. And the beauty lies in the tears your mother sheds… “But with your woman’s tears, the world becomes complete” (Stanza 15)

IKWYMC is a poetry about love, feminism, motherhood, failed promises, poverty, corruption, will, injustice, leadership, hope and the dream we collectively share. “The language is simple, almost prosaic in order to make the message clear to the masses that he represents…” Professor Hope Eghagha(From Foreward)

Get yours, click to buy https://www.okadabooks.com/book/about/i_know_why_your_mother_cries/14808 Price is #750

or chat +2348135359053 to buy directly from author via Bank transfer. The book (e-pub) would be mailed afterwards.

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/36222479-i-know-why-your-mother-cries

About Poet:
Badiru Kehinde was born in Okokomaiko, Lagos. His first published work is a poetry collection titled; I Know Why Your Mother Cries. Also, He was schooled at Osun state university where he had his first degree in English Language and International Studies. Kehinde is also a spoken work artiste, writes, designs, brands and teaches. He is a regular columnist on different online platforms where his works have been featured. Kehinde has served as campus journalist, features editor and editor in chief of two magazines. He also loves freelance writing, Literature, Smooth Jazz, Culture, Digital media, meeting people and God.
Badiru writes and shares different exciting stuffs on his Instagram and Facebook page mostly. He is currently working on collection of short stories, another collection of poems and a memoir.

FB/Twitter/IG: BadiruKehinde
www.hub201.com/author/badiru-kehinde/
E-mail: badirukehinde@gmail.com

poem by Sumbo Luke

Behind the clouds!

Ìrókò is the King of trees

The lion,master of the jungle

This you may be yet to fathom

Why the ìrókò?

You see him in white linen

My perception suggests he has horns on his head

Smiles you see

Blood foaming from the mouth of the “innocent”

He is obviously wealthy

Stretched to me a naiira note

I hear the cries of the innocent ghosts

With my mouth agape

Ajénikókó believed he has killed his poverty

Tell him to prepare gowns of wretchedness

Shame looms ahead!

You might have passed through the woods

Observing the shaking trees

Oh that’s a wind!

Loudly you echo to co- tourists

Ifákúnlé passed the same woods

Stood a while to listen to sweet voices

Singing harmoniously with mysterious percussions

They are not the Anglican choir

Tree spirits are partying!

 

 

poems by Wakchin Nengak

“FATHER’S LAND”
there is a place better than home
aloof this hellish sphere of dark-hued men
of my kind with scary deeds
that father says I should call home
my father’s land would have been
a cove were refugees run to perch in
but armors daily vomit in this home
even when clutched by preachy hands
and the heart-cleaving tales history tells
of it’s carted troves and untilled fields
Africa prompts me to cringe
and peel off my dermis with cream
for my eyes sees jeers from lands
whose purse were arid as deserts
but learnt to tap moist from itself
unlike our father’s land
were we beg for rivers abroad
to quench the thirst of
throats that own enough waters.
“ALL I SEE”…
All I see are
Shrapnel of myriad nouns
that became anonymous
In ashy textures
In the aftermath of letting our guns
Vomit venoms that oust lives
And made halcyon days seem like scenes in fairy tales
And It’s like the sun saw
our blood-grimed soil
That it feels shy to gleam again
It feigns sleepy
Like an infant with a gummy brow.
All I see…
Are rays of shadows;
Our days have being swapped with
For our streets are smeared
And painted with crimson moist
Of chaste hands.
Wakchin Nengak Godwin is a writer and poet from Plateau State, Nigeria. Some of his poems have appeared on Words Rhymes and Rhythm poetry column, Youth Shades e-magazine, Speaking Heart, Philippeace, and elsewhere. You can reach him on Facebook and instagram @wakchinnengak

poems by Babatunde Stephen

GLORIOUS DESTINATION
As I was walking in the path of justification,
Everyone was gazing at me as if I have no destination,
Only me knows my Creator’s satisfaction,
So I continued walking with solidification.

I continue walking, thinking about the end,
and thinking about when the race will end,
curious about when we will ascend,
and my mission will be completed .

Though I the way is tedious ,
but I am still focused,
because I know the place is glorious ,
and the alternative way is cost.

VINEYARD

Everybody been in the Vineyard ,
makes me feel bad ,
Not been able to hear the sound of birds,
makes me stay long on bed.

I prefer staying in a cave ,
because, sometimes I do feel like I am a slave,
that can never be compared to a maid,
because they are often paid.

Working tirelessly without profit,
In it I see no benefit.
Even others that are to assist ,
are already placed on a higher sit.

Sitting down alone just like a sadist ,
does not make me happy.
Even though, people think I’m naughty ,
but I know my brain is not faulty.

Babatunde Stephen Oladayo is an African Poet.  He is a senior secondary school graduate seeking admission into a tertiary institution. He is a saxophone player of jazz, classical, Afro and contemporaries. He is a lover of Art and music.

 

 

 

poems by adekunle adewunmi

 

Adekunle Adewunmi is aCorrespondence;ChurchTimesAgency. A graduate of Mass Communication, his passion for looking into the society makes him a lover of writing and he writes according to societal happenings. He was the Sub-editor; Community Echo Newspaper and Omega Magazine. Adekunle Adewunmi is also a Poet. His works have been published on websites like__ www.ynaija.com  www.irepublicng.com  www.moshoodmuhammed.wordpress.com  www.eyimofeokuwoga.wordpress.com  www.akewiartshouse.com

Fb: Adekunle Israel Adewunmi.

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I MISS YOU

By Adekunle Adewunmi.

 

Atimes,

It is important we part ways

Not for heart breaks

But for future smiles.

 

In fact,

Closeness may deny us

From reaching our hands

Towards our set goals

That requires moving away

From our comfort zones.

 

Though I travelled to a very far land,

You remain in my heart

At the sound of the morning and evening beagles,

I sojourn back to your abode throughmy mind.

 

I’m happy to meet you alive

Beautiful and resting well

Now, I can caressyour body with my pen

I miss you my poetry book!

 

 

 

STREETS OF GOLD

By Adekunle Adewunmi

 

Is your toga clean?

Or you desire the sweetness of the anther?

Your leaf is green or black due to lack of manure?

Come!

 

The beagle ringsand still does

It’s voice is clarion

Very clear and gentle saying;

 

“Receive the ticket to the streets ofGold”

 

For thepure and shining are the streets

Glittering, well refined and polished!

Reception available for all

All that wills and obey

All!

 

At the trumpet’sheight of clarity,

Many are ushered into the party

Without stereotyping or hierarchy

Into the land of golden merry.

 

Oodles of gold crowns,

Plethora of awards

Floods the Résumé of those that win,

Echoes of praises and honour

Bequeathed to these wise ones

Who makes it to the streets.

 

Despite accepting all,

It rejects some

Even many

Who fails to identify with the street owner

For He knows His Sheep

Andthey know Him.

 

So, receive and accept His Lordship

For He his the maker of the skies, land

And the seas!!!

 

 

OBEDIENCE.

 

There is an evil which I’ve seen under the sun

And, it is common among men

There is a virtue I know about

But it rings afar off.

 

The evil seems close and lovely

It shines and glitters as gold

Disobedience is sweeton the surface

Yet, ashes prevails overits beauty

For it is ephemeral.

 

The virtue is powerful,

It is meaningful and beautiful

It can never be ridiculed

Yes, obedience is honourable!

 

For to obey is better than plea

To adhere, than lobbying

Working assiduously to make a name

Written on sandsof time.

 

For to be obedient require patience

With patience comes respect

In respect comes honourand blessings

With which obedience pays off.

 

We have a duty

You, me, and us

To be compliant with Nigeria’s core values,

Enthrone this nation

Disposing the garments of rebellion

Against constituted authority

Which may lead to dejection

Refraining from violation

Which may usher war in.

 

Let’s drink together in the same container;

The water of obedience that breeds oneness

Obedience that halts corruption

Obedience that shows compassion.

 

Let us be,

And keep being obedient

It shows humility

For God seeks such.

 

OBEDIENCE sells helps and makes.

We are Nigerians; together in love we can make it a better place.