THROUGH MY EYES

I hide my tears

Behind your veil,

Between the crevice 

Of a fragile wall of love

Where I fight my way

To be your crown…

°

I hide my tears

For surreal…

For frost, for freedom to

Draw your art nigher

And fill the crispy crevice

With me alone…

°

I hide my tears

Till those moments

Remembered by me,

Where tales become tides

By expressing me with ‘felt’

Before I left you to choice.

°

Though, those tears might not

Flow to make you think

Of how I’ve lived in your shoe,

You know you are mine,

Why must I feel your foot

Before I kiss your loin?

O’ Jewel!

#tears…

Natur’s Pictur N’quill​

CHINUA ACHEBE by Ikpe Comfort

​

CHINUA ACHEBE

That day, as I sat outside,
The hawk dropped me a message.

In my grief,

I opened the brief.

He wrote: “Hope things have stopped falling apart?”

I stared and returned a stern gaze at the hawk.

For he was no more;

But I had received a message from him,

He had asked question I knew no answer for.

To look at the hawk was impossible,

For it was no more.

I had received a message from him.

°

© Ikpe Comfort

#Beatitude

TELL ÀSHÀKÉ by Joel Oluwatosin

TELL ÀSHÀKÉ

If you ever cross her pathway, 

If you ever get a whiff of her fragrance,

If you recognize

The sound of her footsteps from a distance

And the melody of her sonorous chant;

Àkàrà rèé, Èko rèé…

Hmmm…Àshàké;

The step daughter of a famous adroit

bean cake merchant..

…

Tell Àshàké…

That her voice was the fork

That tuned my ear,

That the sand is delighted

To be the canvas of her elegant steps,

That the moon would be unwise not to stare at her.

…

Tell Àshàké…

She should be careful when visiting streams,

Oya, Yemoja, Òsun and others of their ilk

are envious,

Not all goddesses are pleased with her beauty.

…

Tell Àshàké…

That an iota of her smile

Is all the day needs to be brightened,

No wonder Gbádégeshin could not let go of her

And saw to it to the end.

…

Please tell Àshàké…

I never meant to leave her in the cold,

I sure made a perfect plan to elope,

I never wanted her to retreat

Back to Ìyá Alákàrà; the lousy scold.

…

Narrate to Àshàké…

That I was never a coward,

Even after those blows from the Prince’s sword

Her call I never Ignored,

Even now, as I lay

In my very own pool of blood

And my ancestors beckon

Tell her

She was the one Àkànní loved till the end came.

Joel Oluwatosin

T_Notch​

MY SON v

My Son,

There is no journey without freedom

You may fly without a wing

You may walk when wings are there

You may cry with songs that sing

You may smile whilst you are in tears…

`
You may live in living of lone…

You may live to be free from home

You may decide on the rising sun

You may tell tales beneath the moon’ song

You may let go of your love ones…

`
Is freedom free my son?

Can you feel my tears? –

My tears that is not shed for you

But for the life I fail to live with you

When you are free from herds of here and there…

`

My son,

Life owes no one pain or gain

We, all owe life our pain, our gain

We make fate, before fate is too late…

Make fate my Son, before fate is too late

Make fate, when fate is your faith!

`
The more you live your life

The more your life writes you her poems

The more your life writes you 

The more your life is right 

About her poetry book that portrays you…

`
You make her to make right

In your present plight, as you live…

Living is a poem my Son,

We are all poets of our life…

Think, deep, to reap your reap.

To be continue…

c. Natur’s Pictur N’quill

MY SON iv

​

My Son,

Life is a prosaic poem

Decoded by spoken words

Living is a poem

Understood by a tip of sand…

Hmmmm. ..My son,

If my life will be a poem,

Write me poetry

To be read in each poem

Of the multitudes…

Then –

Will I live on what I left undone

For death will surely knock my head

I will knock your certain head

We will all knock death’s head

At the centre of timeless banter!

☆☆☆

Except you are of something

Nothing will ever heal you

You may sway athwart by time –

Spend on searching for living

Or will all pros on prosaic poems

☆☆☆

Nothing will ever heal you my son

You may be an excerpt of praises

Or the creator of creatures

By one in a million phrases…

Except you excel out of your weakness!

☆☆☆

Though you walk on the rage of ocean

Or be the tides of religion

Nothing will ever heal you my son,

Though you puke what was…

Except you except something for all thing!

☆☆☆

Nothing, I say these words!

Nothing, my beloved son of my quill

Nothing, see agama nodding his crested head…

Except you are of change you want to see

On this mold… O’ my son!…

(To be continue…)

c. Natur’s Pictur N’quill.

AKWU

You were once a seed

Planted by Someone I didn’t know—

Someone; my Good God—

Your father; Our creator; Your knowing,

☆

You will become a tree

Harvested by people you won’t know –

People in the wisdom of my Good God

That will keep growing…

☆

Till you become an empire

Of your desire Sire.

★

Keep breathing Agedemapetii! –

The pot that cooks but remains uncooked! 

☆

Natur’s Pictur N’quill​

IDENTITY ii

​
I was once a seed

Planted by someone I don’t know

I will become a tree

Harvested by people I won’t know.

°

c. Natur’s Pictur N’quill​

MY SON iii

My son,

Be neither of just a star,

For every human is a star

Nor of these shiny stars

For they are common like scars…

Be of shiny sailing stars –

For they are rare, they are wishes.

♡

Be of a good cheers

For you can never overcome the mold°

It moulded you, you need to know.

You only give trial its chance

Before your tribals lead you home…

♡

Be of a rational moon

That gives her light without pain

Though she’s hurt for your gain

She lives on, after your doom°

To be as she used to be in her fane°

♡

Moment might made me making mist

In the clarity of the sunrise,

Be of the sun by getting on your rise

For I will be glad after I see

Through my blurred age of your glee.

♡

I am who you think I am now

I am not who think I am not…

I may be ‘who’ you’ll never think I may be

Till what will be in million ways be

My thousand years after I leave to live…

Hmmm…. (To be continue)​

LIFE…

 Life is like a boat

We are like sailors

Life is a boat

We sail

…

To question existence

On why we live

To find answer in silence

Of what we give

…

Life is like a choice

We are like choosers

Life is a choice

We choose

…

To live on decision

And decide what’s right or wrong

To give our all to missions

With hope of somedays

…

Life is living

We are lives

Life is like a boat

Our destination is like our destiny.

c. Natur’s Pictur N’quill

MY SON ii

​

Hmnnn……..My son,

My body may be shivering

By then, and the vestiges

Laid by me, inspiring…

Lay yours with more prestige.

`

Though your grandfather

Want living in your father’s feather

So do I; your father, spies

It through your feather’s feather

To fly in trait of our spicies…

`

O’ my beloved son…

When I get old

By becoming fold,

Unfold me, before the night fall

For fireflies will sing you a song…:

`

“There are stars

Over your head

Watching you

As you are made of them

`

There are stars

Can you see them through your eyes?

Glittering, 

As you are looking at them…

`

There are stars

Twinkling in your thought

Bringing all to life

That once die of clouds…

`

There are stars

Night fog has passed by

Watch and look,

They are shinning at your days ahead…

`

Choose to be one,

Not all………….” 

c. Natur’s Pictur N’quill