DISTANT MESSAGES

DISTANT MESSAGES

DISTANT MESSAGES

dear ears of distant places, far-nigh
above and below countless coined mountains
of distinct voices which shoots beneath deserts
of distinct colours which defies our journey
like journals hanging freely on branches of trees
beside roads and along highways,
beats are indifferent aphid tunes and drums of no semblances…

in 1844; in silent minuted surprise course of the clock,
minutes stood; time seen massaging airs
well-signed and a sign hanged on ballonet shoulders
of bamboo flutes that dimmed after gravels-pour.

Distant messages from Africa!  Source: www.attatravel.com

Distant messages from Africa!
Source: www.attatravel.com

in 1948; in between fingerprints and toe-marks on sands of islands
potatoes and cocoyam  bulletins drummed
before an armored castle gate and governor’s anchor,
sweat evaporated and tears rained in torrential
of feet wanting to hide under palm shades
from the raining wistful melodies of death.

in 1957; in the jaws of a month renovating itself
a dream was born on sheets of dust and shredded papers
a bond was signed of freedom
a mark of indelible solvent rained on huts-of-mankind
as one eye took hold of multiple.

in 1960; when days no longer appreciated indexes of leaves
and weeds flourished before germination could expire;
history recycled aback in fro of puzzled pulses
a nation was reclaimed and dreams set on fire-woods of kerosene…

when Awoonor had sang of sand beneath and nigh;
and Okigbo had preached of mother Idoto and fireflies,
of how warm worms gladly seeded echoes of blak-stars
but like Soyinka and Achebe; this journey has hatched tobacco soils
where castles and fortresses are assumed communions for the peoples’ glory…

 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Nana Arhin Tsiwah is a disciple of Pan-African Consciousness and a student of Akanism. Tsiwah, a linguist- performist of Mfante-Akan Ancestry writes from Cape Coast, Ghana.

THE MOON

THE MOON

THE MOON

Just but a figment of the sun’s strength
The only one we can confidently behold
Rebirthing and displaying for us each month
We await eagerly the peak when you are so bold

Sometimes, when you are sickle shaped,
I get to see that boy from the fables
Posing with his legendary stick and legs misshaped
Tis but a combination of imagination and old wives tales.

The moon

The moon

I love how you grace my way on clear nights
Streaking silvery slivers on sparkling asbestos
But still, the sun be your source of might
You re only but an inverter, a very compliant apparatus

I wish you could but break forth
Suddenly become self sufficient
But unlike the sun, rise from the north
In your way, you still are beautiful and quite resplendent

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

What happens when Philosophy meets with very vivid imagination?
Emmanuel Ibekwe is ‘who’ happens. I am a graduate of the University of
Ibadan, but, still a student of the School of Imagination situated
inside my world, I love penning down abstract thoughts poetically or
if need be, in an article. I guess that’s what happens when Philosophy
meets with Creativity and the willingness to express it.

SHADES OF GREY

SHADES OF GREY

Shades of grey  [Not fifty 😉 ]

Right and wrong
From a tender age,
We are taught are polar opposites
But are they? Always?
Good and bad
Black and white
As you get older, shades of grey appear
The distinction becomes fuzzy
Not always, but every now and again

Shades of grey!

Shades of grey!

(Say) You’ve committed to one
Yet you meet another
And connect on a deep level
What to do?
Do you sacrifice the one for the other?
Is the mere thought of it bad?
When emotions conflict with duty,
With reason,
With expectations, mine and others’
Black and white mingle
Birthing shades of grey
Leaving me in a quandary
Am I right?
Or have I left all common sense behind?
What to do?
What to do…

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Sinmi Aiyelaagbe is a medical student who has enjoyed reading from a young age. She occasionally writes poems and short stories. 

MORTAL MAN

MORTAL MAN

Mortal Man

The caterpillar is a prisoner to the streets that conceived it.

It’s only job is to eat or consume everything that is around it

In order to protect itself from this mad city.

While consuming it’s environment,

The caterpillar begins to notice ways to survive

One thing it notices is how much the world

Shuns him but praises the butterfly.

 

Mortal Man!

Mortal Man!

The butterfly represents the talent, the thoughtfulness

And the beauty within the caterpillar.

But having a harsh outlook on life,

The caterpillar sees the butterfly as weak

And figures out ways to pimp it to it’s own benefits.

Already surrounded by this mad city, the caterpillar

Goes to work on the cocoon which institutionalizes him.

He can no longer see past his own thoughts: He’s trapped!

When trapped inside these walls, certain ideas start to take root,

Such as going home, and bringing back new concepts to this mad city.

The results? Wings begin to emerge, breaking the cycle of feeling stagnant.

Finally free, the butterfly sheds light on the situations that the caterpillar

Never considered, thus, ending the struggle.

Although the butterfly and the caterpillar are completely different,

They are one and the same.

P.S.: Please be informed that this work, being a lyrical adaptation from Kendrick Lamar’s ‘Mortal Man’ – a track from his ‘To Pimp A Butterfly’ album, is to be treated as an edited work by my person. Hence, I denounce all acknowledgments in whatsoever form and manner as the original author of this piece. A simple recognition as an editor would do justice to whatever effort I have put into the duplication of this work.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR 
Ogunbayo Oladisun Oladimeji is a graduate of Agricultural Economics, University of Ibadan. A prospective Postgraduate student of the same course in the same school. A Christian who believes in The Word and Christ. I write on almost everything that piques my interest, except motivational articles. I strongly favour political and economic analysis, hence I’m naturally predisposed to write on these. I love creative and logical thinking.
PASSING THE BUCK

PASSING THE BUCK

PASSING THE BUCK

Some say it is the way of the rational human
We want not the blame but the praise
So passing the cup becomes the new craze
Leaving our Creator in a daze
Making Him want to create a new Man.

Nothing so wrong about admitting a crime.
We all make mistakes. True
We have none perfect. Not even a few.
Why fear the crowd? Their cry and hue
Forget it. The shame is but for some time.

THE BLAME GAME - the game we all play!

THE BLAME GAME – the game we all play!

Forget the crowd. It is for God to forgive.
Forget the crowd. They would be ready to blame.
Bombarding you with reasons. Most of them lame.
Knowing not that their talk elevates you and you get more fame
The crowd will shout. Forgiveness is still for God to give.

Stop it. Quit passing the buck.
Just like passing around bad food.
Start being rational, stop being crude.
It definitely will do no one good.
Again, forget the crowd. To you, the best they can do is mock.

IBEKWE EMMANUEL

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

What happens when Philosophy meets with very vivid imagination?
Emmanuel Ibekwe is ‘who’ happens. I am a graduate of the University of
Ibadan, but, still a student of the School of Imagination situated
inside my world, I love penning down abstract thoughts poetically or
if need be, in an article. I guess that’s what happens when Philosophy
meets with Creativity and the willingness to express it.

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