by KREATIVE DIADEM | May 17, 2015 | POEMS
I THINK ABOUT LIFE
I think about life
The peace and the strife
This miserable life
Depressing like a nagging wife
A deadly game
Not for the lame
Unconditional fame
The only aim
The rule is organised crime
Perpetrated time to time
Violence in its prime
Existence sour like lime
Day after day
The clock ticks away
We move closer to a day
After which no other day
Thinking about life. Source: internet images.
When death comes calling
The soul hearkens running
Life’s candle stops burning
To the Lord the soul is returning
At the time of death
Time for the last breathe
So useless is wealth
So unhelpful is health
On the last day
The soul ready to fly away
Close ones hoping it would stay
But the body must return to the clay
O negligent one
Think of all you’ve done
One day you’ll be gone
Like the bullet from a gun.
© 2015 by DURODOLA Folarin
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Durodola Folarin Quadri. Born on the first of January 1991. I attended the university of Ibadan as a student of Agricultural and Environmental Engineering. Editor-in-Chief of the departmental press organisation. I like books and one of the best I ever read was Living, Loving and Learning by Professor Felice Leonardo Buscaglia. I enjoy sports and computer games. Poetry gives me succour when I write about how I feel. Most times I write based on real situations because they inspire me more than imagination. I’m quiet and sometimes I’m being labelled as shy, while some simply say I’m an introvert.
by KREATIVE DIADEM | May 16, 2015 | POEMS
LOVE THEN
If you can hate, why don’t you Love,
Don’t be a snake, just be a dove,
Rise like the sun, open up your arms,
Be that sweet home, keeping us warm,
Make the world smile, happy for real,
Play like a child, who is just healed,
Respect this Life, She’s your true Friend,
For the Future, walk hand-in-hand;
Love instead of hate
If you can Love, why do you hate,
Take off that glove, don’t hurt your mate,
Don’t blame him please, if he’s like coal,
You’re meant to live, for the same goal,
You sons of pains, forget your past,
Snow brought you chains, just bring her grass,
Colours of gold, colours of blood,
Don’t turn cold; we’re from one God;
If you can hate, then you can Love,
Do not frustrate, the Heart of Lord,
Give Him the name, that shall please you,
He’s still the same; He’s just one Truth,
He’s colourless; He’s all on Earth,
Slave and Highness, He’s Life and Death,
He’s the Shepherd, no one’s above,
He’s you and I, the perfect Love.
RAY NDEBI
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
My name is Théodore René Ndebi, born in Cameroon. I graduated in Banking Management. But what really makes me proud and happy is WRITING !!!!! I started writing around 1990. I write the most I can.
I mostly write for children’s future. As a child, I had always dreamt of a world where poor children and orphans could be happy as well. I have many unpublished collections in French: Chaque Jour Un Poème, Rêve D’un Soir, La Missive Du Petit Prince, Suis-Je Assez Bien Pour Toi… I’m also author of unpublished novels in French (Cierge Noir, Plus Violent Que L’amour, Les Fruits De La Tempête…). My first published novel; THE LAST GHOST/Son Of Struggle got published in 2013 by AuthorhouseUK; it appears in the LOS Angeles Times Festival Of Books Catalogue 2014 Page 8. Available online @ Amazon, Kindle, AuthorhouseUK, Barnes & Noble, Indie. I wrote numerous award winning texts. I am a Book Reviewer and Translator. I am a member of OneAfricanChild since 2013 and Co-Founder of Le Salon Du Livre Yaounde-Cameroon.
by KREATIVE DIADEM | May 15, 2015 | POEMS
No Pal in Nepal
Rain drops at midnight
Tremors in sunlight
The clouds give a cry
And the earth a reply.
Rubbles, once landmarks
Land slid structured bench marks
Avalanching peaks
Enveloping thicks.
The sunken need no relief
The standing stunned by grief
The brave loosing will
Strange succors now their pill.
The quake in Nepal. Source: Reuters
Rocks tumbling
Land marks crumbling
Abodes rumbling
High-rise stumbling.
Shaking and vibrating
Loud cries trumpeting
Casualties updating
No more gyrating.
Rolling, falling
Stranded calling
Aves cease flying
Hopes lay dying.
Patting, cuddling
Aid men saddling
Fast paddling
New dawn waddling
© 2015 Eghele Akpere
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Eghele Akpere is a graduate of Applied geology from the Ladoke Akintola University of technology, Oyo State, Nigeria. Currently serving as a youth corps member. He appreciates the art and adventure of poetry.
by KREATIVE DIADEM | May 14, 2015 | SHORT STORIES
She Held My Hand
“Am leaving now”, she said. Everybody knew what that meant. It meant she had done her part and would therefore very much wish to be excused so that she attended to her other schedules. Who could have blamed her when everybody was leaving? Besides, we had by this time reached the final phase of our work. “Thank you so much for the service you have rendered, it really means a lot and we do appreciate”. That was the Chief Executive Officer commending her input as far as project implementation was concerned. However, being a kind of girl she was, she made sure to shake hands with everybody as a way of saying goodbye. So it happened that I was the last and that was it.
It was in the way she held my hand. It must have lasted for eternity and it spoke more than the silence which enveloped our souls. She deliberately interlocked her hand with mine and caressed my palm. She then looked deep into my eyes again and smiled, this time blushing. I retained that gaze in the most excellent way, but her eyes so watery and lazy, made me propound that she must have been raised in a faraway planet. Still looking deep into her eyes, I noticed something very exquisite…she had that longing to be with me. Sadly, I was just a poet and could anything good come from a poet?
It was in the way she held my hand
But something good came from a poet that day, at least he expressed how he had felt when her soft hand found her way into his palm. The message I sent her that night must have caught her by surprise, for her response revealed something that I never knew existed in her hearts of hearts. She said I was the guy she always came to see, I was the guy she was so eager to go out with even if that meant giving up her job. Besides, it was only part time and the reason she had not quickly accepted full time employment at another reputable organisation unlike our own was that she had the faintest belief of capturing my attention. All she ever wanted was to see me everyday, to pass through my office and extend greetings so cozy and incalculable. I recollected all those cold mornings she brought coffee to my office, I used to think it was just a virtue of her being a partner and she did that in the name of professionalism. I regretted all of the moments I had misconstrued her gestures for friendship for she expected more.
Questions started puzzling my mind, did she really have any idea how much dumbstruck her splendour made me feel all the times we were together? Did she at any point in time, recognize how
in all our conversations I was always the one who talked less and did more of the staring? That should have granted her the clue that I was interested in her perhaps even more than she was in me.
Nevertheless, it was in the way she held my hand that day which became a determining factor of our remaining years on earth for we vowed to spend them together….and we did.
Retelling the story as it was last week and the continuation will continue after this continuation)
By me, The God Centered Poet
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Wisdom Henry Magomero Uledi Studied Law at Staff Development Institute in Blantyre, Malawi. He is now The Publicity Secretary For The Church of Central Africa Presbyterian Youth Urban Ministry (CCAPYUM) resident in Malawi’s Capital, Lilongwe. The Spoken Word Poet is sobriqueted as “The God Centered Poet” For His recitals do the linking of souls by bringing them to Christ,in heavens wing..
by KREATIVE DIADEM | May 13, 2015 | SHORT STORIES
THE KISS
Sunday, May 10, 2015
Dubai, 12:00pm
A newly wedded Nigerian couple after the wild celebrations of their wedding ceremony, travelled down to the United Arab Emirates for their honeymoon. From the onset, their plan was to visit Paris; take snapshots with the Eiffel Tower and behold the beauty of the French capital but they could not get a French visa.
Loads of mirth were generated by the awesome scenery which greeted them at the entrance of Downtown Dubai. It did not only trigger their romantic love but brought back the ecstasy of the wedding ceremony. On arrival at the four star hotel on Sheikh Mohammed bin Rashid Boulevard which was a stone throw away from Burj Khalifa, the wife screamed for joy on spotting a swimming pool to the left side of the gate. She has a knack for swimming but being a medical doctor did not provide her the luxury of time. She was a passionate amateur swimmer and her husband is not doing bad either.
The couple
On entering the bedroom, she rushed into the bathroom and changed into her swimming trunks covered with a white pyjamas ready to have a feel of the pool. She waved her husband goodbye and told him to join her downstairs. Her husband tried to talk her into resting but she insisted on relaxing with the swimming. The young handsome man tried to pull off his shoes but rather fell into a deep sleep as his back touched the neatly laid bed.
Dubai, 3:00pm
A wild tap on the door jolted him from his sleep, he staggered so he tried to gain balance and understand his new environment. He opened the door and it was one of the hotel attendants, the lady asked him if he was the husband of Mrs. Rose Williams. He nodded his head forward with fright in his eyeballs as he inquired of what happened to her. He sprinted rapidly with the attendant.
In a hospital on the other side of the road to the entrance of the hotel, Rose was in a deep coma with her head plastered and an oxygen respirator fixed to her nose. She was inundated with joy that she forgot to check the depths of the steep swimming pool. She plunged into the pool in its shallow end and smashed her head on concrete. Amidst heavy panting and sighs of deep breath, the voice of her husband filled the room, “Rose!!!”. He stood at the bedside and deeply kissed her mouth and her eyes popped open.
P. S.: There is a point in life when ovation is at its loudest and victorious celebration is at its peak. Euphoria swings in with its full energy leading to a wild jubilation. Euphoria has the potential to intoxicate if not cautioned, which affirms that too much of everything is inappropriate.
© 2015 by OSHO Samuel Adetunji
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Osho Samuel Adetunji is a graduate of Mechanical Engineering from Nigeria’s premier University, University of Ibadan. He is a poet, a blogger, a Public Speaker, an on air personality with a knack for short stories, inspirational articles and poems.
He co-founded THE COURTROOM in 2012. He is the founder of KREATIVE DIADEM, a new initiative which kicked off on March 1, 2015.He is an inspirational young man who is addicted to going an extra mile in all facets of life. He is also a lover of football, tennis and boxing. You can follow him on Twitter with the handle: @inisamosho.
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