Poems & Poetry

 

IT’S MY LIFE
It’s my life, I can do what I want
Living large, having plenty to flaunt
Why would I queue when I can shunt?
For this once I dare to be blunt
Just go ahead, if you choose to taunt

Like in wildlife, I went ahead to hunt
Freedom and pleasures, all for me to haunt
Nothing I considered gutsy enough to daunt
Make all the noises I said to aunt
Life, I was sure needed not be quant

Little did I know that I was just like a runt
Under weight of destruction I began to grunt
In the hand of the enemy I became a punt
Dealing with me in strokes and bunt
Soon I became nothing more than a cunt

Nothing’s left, not even my vaunt
I knew the end has come to my jaunt
Then He came to my rescue; grace to mount
He saved and my sins He did not count
Now it’s not my life; I can’t do what I want

 

WHO’S TRAINING YOUR CHILD?
The saying from the west of the country sounds good;
That only four eyes own a child,
More than two hundred eyes watch over him.
But how much of this is true today?

Who’s training your child socially?
Thanks to God if you ever had time
To teach your child clear values and morals
But how much do you ensure they live by them?

When you watch your favourite soap on Tv
It seems to you you’re having fun
But you forget that we see those scenes too
Yet you don’t bother how they affect us

Children spend hours on tv games
Technology has given us so much we could want
But has also taking so taking so much we can afford to give
The world is called a global village
Yet we’re farther from each other than ever before

We live in a world where ignorance is rewarded;
What’s popular is now better than what’s right
People prefer fifteen minutes of fame to a life-time of purpose
You care about what we look like to the world
But don’t care about what the world see when they look at us

How do you monitor the social interaction of your child?
Who’s given your child social lessons?
Haven’t you left the duty to the teachers in school,
Peers in the neighbourhood and Ministers in church?
If there be any good report in these, think about it.

 

YEA AND AMEN- HIS PROMISES
Who really wouldn’t want a proof?
We stick our heads out like a goose
A really long time for some, it took
Till in their mouth, remain only a tooth

When it finally comes, we feel cool
We flex to the enjoyment and the soothe
Refreshing it is, like the waters in the brook
So much to enjoy, blessings like a pool

It’s not written actually in any book
How you may choose to enjoy your groove
Go ahead if you like shouting on the roof
So long you do not misbehave or goof

His promises are always for our good
Refreshing like gentle breeze in the woods
They are satisfying like unto the belly, food
Joy like a river in our lives and our ‘hoods.

 

…So The Story Goes
How could I ever walk, if first I didn’t crawl?
How could I ever talk, if first I didn’t blab?
How could I ever triumph, if there wasn’t trial?
How was I ever repaired, if there wasn’t damage?

I know the feeling of gladness ‘cos I once tasted sadness
I know the feeling of love ‘cos I once know hate
I enjoy this elevation ‘cos I once befriended depression
I enjoy this glory ‘cos I once wallowed in the story

Life’s being somehow bitter, just then He made it sweet
When I am so down, just then He raised me up
I no longer have any fear, when He’s made me bold
‘Cos whenever I think I’m weak, then I’m really strong.

 

The Past
I know we can’t change the past
May be ‘cos it moves so fast
Unreachably tall like the mast
Yet forever it remains with us and last
Unless somehow your head’s in a blast

Quit the effort and stop the try
Although the past will raise its head to pry
Into the present and future it meant to fry
Milking the goodness of your days dry
Nothing but pain it brings that you may cry

There’s only one way you get off the hook
Calm your soul like waters of the brook
Let your past remain only in the book
Nothing more to take than it already took
The future is bright, you should take a look.

 

The Past 2
No matter how much the past glows
So much that your mind, it blows
Past is it and away it flows
You can’t call it back even if you use glo
Memories of it you’ll continue to plow (to be contd.)

 

FATHER
Times in life when everything around is scattered
No where to go but run helter-skelter
No a single cloth on your back even a sweater
And no place to rest your head as in shelter

When life troubles come, you need not scamper
Let nothing with your peace tamper
You may not know that there’s one called the Keeper
His delight is sure in all of us to pamper

God is great because he always send to us fathers
They look out for us, sticking closer than a brother
We lose our fears because we know in nothing we should bother
We are blessed because in you, we have a father.

 

SUPERNATURAL
I’m redeemed to operate in the supernatural
It’s my way of life; it is so cultural
Check out my lineage, with my fathers, it’s ancestral
In the army of the Lord, demons know I’m a General
On top in Christ Jesus and with Him alone I’m integral

No apologies cos I’m walking in authority
You might as well get used to it; no mediocrity
Living heaven while here on earth is my priority
I call whatever be not and it answers with alacrity
I shine brighter than the stars, I’m a celebrity

Everything I do, it commands attention
I didn’t plan it, never my intention
God’s got my back, there’s no contention
If you doubt it, you may do some inspection
I rule my world and everything in it, no exemption

We are sent to this earth as ambassadors
Same way as our fathers, our predecessors
My father abounds in grace, it transcends the successors
Through him, I was moulded; They’re Processors
Veterans of faith, more than Professors.

 

WAR ZONE
Life’s a war zone
Everyday’s a battle field
Every moment’s a battle time
Everywhere the battle may surface from
Several battles we fight before the war’s over

Sometimes according to fate
Sometimes according resilience
Whether we choose the fight or not
We engage in the fight anyways
Sometimes we win, other times we lose

For you, Abimbola, it’s a win
For me it seems a loss
I might have lost this battle
But the war I’m confident of winning
It doesn’t matter scars I sustain.

 

TRIBUTE TO OLAIYA ISRAEL ABIMBOLA
Growing up as siblings, I knew you to be a perfect being- a brother that was also a friend. Although older, yet you never slapped or kicked me whenever I wrong you like most older siblings would do to their younger ones. By the time I became more aware of life and living, I began to realize your struggles. Different things you had to battle to maintain your health and live independent of any aid like everyone else.

It was obvious there was something different about you. Everyone had different perception of you- some saw a great mathematician that can solve any basic operation in just one microsecond less than calculator would, no matter the size of the numbers while a few others saw a dysfunct in you due to their myopic sense of perception. I wish we’d known better how to exploit your great numerical manipulative talent, perhaps a better version on Mr. Pythagoras or other great mathematician this world has ever known would have emerged in you. I’d have had a world renowned scholar for a brother.

I felt your pain when I knew what you have to bear through those times you had to go in and out of hospital. Days of scary and uncontrollable seizure, times we didn’t understand what you were going through and you could barely remember anything around you. All in all, you gave a great fight. One after the other, you scaled through series of challenges and afflictions such that no one would think you could survive but with the help of God, great was your strength. Mother, if not for her, none of us could have been able to cope.

To the best of what we know, you were incapable of wrongdoing to anyone. If righteousness is by works, you’d have been the definition of same but nonetheless, your daily confession of faith and believe in Christ Jesus as your loudly and visibly proclaimed Lord and Saviour assured us of your life modeled after Him. You had no worries like the rest of us, no daily hassles and concerns to run after that may expose you to temptation like we all face because all you do for close to the last decade of your years was read Bible, pray, and rest, dedicating all unto your maker.

For once I thought all was in vain, but then I realized it was all victory for you just as your Lord had won for you on the cross of Calvary. Few days to your last day, you said you want to rest but we thought you meant something else. We didn’t understand that you have come to your own Ebenezer- the place wherein the Lord has helped you thus far. Although the war was fierce, we knew it, many battles you might have lost but at the end you won the war.

Contention is over, war is ended.
The Saviour won the ultimate victory
Songs of joy we shall forever sing
Hallelujah…

Goodnight, OLAIYA ISRAEL ALAO ABIMBOLA. Enjoy the bosom of your Saviour at the place where neither the sun nor the moon shines to give light but the glory of the Father of grace lightens everywhere in the entire city of gold.

Sleep tight and I will see you in the morning, brother.

 

My Help-meet, My Darling Wife- Aduke, Orekelewa
Adéolá mi òwón,
Òrékeléwà eni Oba ńfé
Omo af’olá sèsó tó dara ju egbin lo
Ewà ló fi pè mí, ìwà ló fi dèmí mólè
Erelú omo af’olá dárà tóń yo bì ojó
Omi’nú ò ko mí, ‘tori mo r’éni bí okán mi

Òpòlopò èfó ló ńbe lóko
Oba won ni amúnú-tutú jé
Ogun lógò Obinrin ní ńbe ní dúníyàn
Réte-réte ni Adéolá ta wón yo
Omo aya so mí d’elénu gbéyongon
Tí mo bá tún ayé’yí wá

How can I not be grateful
When unto me, God’s been merciful
Given me not only the most beautiful
But in every way, the most dutiful