Jaachi Writes

POEM 243: DON'T STAY DOWN The lowest of lows are just dwarf mountains. Do you know? If you find you there, rejoice! That's a low mountain beneath your feet. But. Don't. Remain. There. There's an Everest to mount. Until you gain such a height from which you, in grandeur, shall gaze around, don't stay down. #365DaysOfPoetry #Pengician #SSA Enjoyed reading? Commenting is now easy.  I introduced Facebook Comment feature. Please help my blog grow by leaving a comment and sharing with friends. Thank you!

POEM 242: FOR THE STREET BOYS there's a boy floating down the street his lanky arms dangling to the beats of his empty stomach he needs something he has his eyes fixed on nothing because mist of tears occupy his mind with a spiral of never ending sad tales he sees nothing nerves dead to hope, so much that everything bright and beautiful appears clad in a tattered cloak, mooing like a starving bull he feels nothing there's a boy floating down the street I don't remember asking the wind to disperse my dreams I am nothing #365DaysOfPoetry #Pengician #SSA Enjoyed reading? Commenting is now easy.  I introduced Facebook Comment feature. Please help my blog grow by leaving a comment and sharing with friends. Thank you!

Hello, friends, if you are yet to get a copy of my book, 'Sweetness' , I'm giving away a few copies on Instafreebie . What is Instafreebie? It is an eReader app. The Instafreebie app makes downloading new books from your favorite authors as simple as deciding what to read next! Find a free ebook, choose your favorite reading app, and let us handle the rest. Book Description Reading SWEETNESS is like snacking on a plate of heart-shaped candies. The language employed in these short delectable verses is simple; and the message is like a kiss-stamp on a pink postcard. This collection of poems promises to take you on a tour of lyrical beaches to see beautiful sunsets. The imagery is vivid, easily relatable! This book will make you yearn for love and the sweetness of romance. Sweetness is now on Instafreebie.  Click Here to Claim a free copy.  This offer is a one-minute man. Rush now! Don't forget to share with friends. #Pengician #SSA  Enjoyed reading? Commenting is now easy

FIRST TIME My anxiety level is almost at the crescendo I know why yet I wonder why it takes me by surprise cannot wait for tomorrow                when West shall embrace East                              when wishes shall collide with reality                                          when a sly sage shall see this rare gem of a dame. the story has just begone                       and fables will be bygone when a book nerd shall kiss his Nightingale without a drop from his pen. constellation shall stand and stare in awe or envy or joy or what'er well-wishers shall smile  wail wishers shall sigh Ah! my heart skips a beat! fly now, oh hands of time do not delay a second more for it is my first time #Pengician #SS A Enjoyed reading? Commenting is now easy.  I introduced Facebook Comment feature. Please help my blog grow by leaving a comment and sharing with friends. Thank you!

After receiving complaints from poets that the time frame given for the submission is insufficient, we have decided to extend the deadline for submission till September 14, 2018. In other words, you have 16 days to write and submit. For Anthology guidelines,  Click Here To submit your entry, Click Here for Submission Form Have you read the Pun Poetry Anthology?  Pun Poetry Anthology is a collection of poems that passed the final stages of the Pun Poetry Contest organised by ACEworld Publishers and Poemify Publishers.  Pun Poetry Anthology Book Title: Pun Poetry Anthology Published: August, 2018 Publisher: Poemify Publishers Format: eBook (pdf) Size: 1.2 MB Enjoyed reading? Commenting is now easy.  I introduced Facebook Comment feature. Please help my blog grow by leaving a comment and sharing with friends. Thank you!

POEM 241: THIS IS HOW I RELIVE THE PAST this is how I relieve the past I visit the timeline I used to live and sit beside the younger me I throw an egg or two into a pan and make us an omelet by the fireplace, he sit and eat fast while I fiddle on the piano, and we talk about the past; we talk about how health was lost and recovered we talk about how fun it was to raise a false alarm how mum will sprint like flash into our room and how we'd echo 'April Fool' amidst laughter we chuckle while painting with words the clueless face mum makes and if she falls while running for the false alarm we massage her limbs and sing to her because we meant no harm. there were quarrels, siblings and I there were cherished moments we munched like snacks there were tasks as tough as haunting a snark there were tears and days quite awful the past reminds me of where I used to be and charts the path I'll walk right through the younger me reminds me of who I used to be and refuels my resolve

Poets are gods but die like humans. I stumbled into this poem, I wrote four years ago.  It is centered around poets being gods and how sadly immortal they are.  The prominent theme of pessimism in the piece poses serious concern and disturbance.  It's appalling in that it depicts the total end of fellow god. Let's dive into it already. THE DEATH OF A GOD poets, we are gods, we are, We are men and women who can give life to dead words. with muted tongues full of ancient wit, we roar into the deafness of emotions and rattle the dry bones of wrongs We're  gods  but  die  like  men. I see clouds gathering                 and the sun's retiring melancholy lyrics interlude yet another doom the night; she is the doom with a cloak of darkness wrap around her bald head she strip tease the body of a weary scribbler until his soul is made naked  and his body unaware of life of light of letters like a procession of mourners, this melancholy lyrics assails the departure of a god str

For today's Literary Devices, we'll play on words and learn how to play on words. Have you ever heard someone describe a phrase as “punny” ? Punny is a blend word, or portmanteau, which combines “pun” and “funny” to describe a funny pun. This is an act of wordplay. What Is WordPlay? In simple terms, wordplay is the act of rearranging a word in a creative way to change, emphasize, or mock its meaning. Wordplay is a creative act which allows writers and readers to flex their thinking muscles. Wordplay has been employed by greats like Shakespeare to create entirely new words, modern poets to hide interesting messages, and quirky comedians to show off witty thinking. One may want to ask, 'of what importance is Wordplay?' Much of poetry and comedy makes use of wordplay to emphasize beauty, intelligence, and wit. It is also a way for wordsmiths to sharpen their creative-thinking in crafting words in new and unique ways. Wordplay serves as proof that literature is evolving,

BELIEVE Will thy ever believe, Ought I tell thou what my heart says. To meet your family, that I'm wholly ready. Ought I tell thou that our courtship, Never shall it be tarried. But would it not matter if I hath not. Ought I tell thou that my heart is bigger than the ocean, Would thy ever believe? Will thy truly believe, Ought I tell thou that the love, Never would it subside. Before the priest; Surely, you and I will make vows. Ought thou dare bare my surname; Forever my heart shall smile. For you my heart leaps; When you are beside me, I wish times would forever ceased. About Writer: Ayouba Toure is a Pan-Africanist from Liberia. A practical Muslim with Mandingo being his ethnicity.Born on February 20, 2003. Currently studying civil engineering at the university of Liberia.A n emerging poet, who writes base on the ills of the society. Enjoyed reading? Commenting is now easy.  I introduced Facebook Comment feature. Please help my blog grow by leaving a comment and sharing with fri

FOR THOSE HUMANS AND WRITERS WHO FEEL LOST IN THE SOCIAL MEDIA WORLD The effect the social media has on us as humans and writers cannot be quantified, it is like an umbrella that shield us from the rain, and when your data is exhausted, the umbrella is stolen by your network providers. Gone into the ashes of lost memories not to be seen nor found no more until you subscribe again. During those moments, it can be the most boring time ever, as you are shut out of this world, alone and alone with no one to hear your voice especially if you weave words into life like me. Technology has given us everything that we need but at the same time it has also robbed us of everything we once cherished. The things we hold dear,memories, priceless friendships, family, love and togetherness. While the slay queens and slay mama's who seek relevance and validation by the likes and comments of their followers are doing theirs, the SMALL GIRLS with BIG GOD are also catching the flight of social media p

POEM 236: A YOUNGSTER ASKED WHAT LOVE IS love is when you have no idea how the last time stays afresh in your heart one after the other, you fall — the petals — off the tree of life nights after days, you stand unclad at the mercy of frost bites kissing the apple that's stuck in your throat. at your end, you sigh and shiver at her end, she cry a river both ends are polar never to meet — anymore, not because you can't but because it hurts to twice relive an agony it's because your choices couldn't match her doctrines it's because you were taught to heed and bat no eyelid it's because you become victims of whatever was taken that's not all, love is two pale petals glued and then peeled apart love is the ripping off hearts. love is bleeding and crawling away with skinned knees. love is stamping footprints paths with regrets and... love is shared laughter, moans and sweat love is faking it and muttering 'hello world!' while shielding our scars behind mas

POEM 235: WILD THOUGHTS you sit by the river of flooding ideas and watch your your thoughts run wild you lend your limbs to the wind and with the wings of many eagles you take your flight into distant 'what-if-lands' silence shut out the voices that beckon to distract your peak focus from off the eye of the bull shoot you must! so on you day dream realities you exhale and shun the desires that flaw tomorrow's bliss with doubt traps suddenly you yield you flop you are carried by the wind downwards your mouth spread to protests but words are lost you say nothing, you give up you fall yet, in the valley of this emptiness bereft of help above and hope below you roam like hungry rodents in a churchyard you wander aimless into more traps you circle same mountain over amd over and wonder why there seem to be no end rhyme to this verse but you don't give in to giving up you raise your head above your neck and.imagine yourself in a flood of thoughts you picture memories to be ma

POEM 234: RETIRED ON EARTH My sun is set And the horizon westward glows gold The storm is over And the sea of life sings melancholy Amidst groaning gunshots, A goodbye general, song I'm done living mortally I've fought many a days bravely I have fallen and risen I've had my share of pain and I a couple times gained Now my soul seeks for heaven's gate. I almost hear angels sing My spirit fly away in unseen wings Into the abode of Jehovah king Oh angels come Come fast like slow and bear me on your wings To my immortal home #365DaysOfPoetry #Pengician #SSA Enjoyed reading? Commenting is now easy.  I introduced Facebook Comment feature. Please help my blog grow by leaving a comment and sharing with friends. Thank you!

POEM 233: HOW WE BECOME LOST ISLES like a sea ice-coated heated arguments trample one against the other I'm right you're wrong when I'm right, what's left? Uncertainties? it's not for you to worry! What ifs? so what? I'm not sorry! words fly I'm thrown off balance with punchlines the ice are melting under the heat of silent vents soon the isle shall sink into the abdomen of the sea soon we both shall lie invalid on sickbed Hurt Apart Misunderstood Buried six feet under past #365DaysOfPoetry #Pengician #SSA Enjoyed reading? Commenting is now easy.  I introduced Facebook Comment feature. Please help my blog grow by leaving a comment and sharing with friends. Thank you!

POEM 232: ONYINYE Onyinye, the lone white rose that squat with no effort in the black row of the family, giving comfort. Onyinye, the third gift to grace father's feet and suckle mother's nip. Onyinye, the song of her mother's smile, the pride of her father's thigh, her brothers' keeper Onyinye, the birth of my pen was your making. Today, with same pen I join in the celebrating. Onyinye, may your days be longer than the river Nile May your smiles be sweeter than red wine. Happy Birthday sweet sister mine. Glossary: Onyinye (Gift): An Igbo female given name. #SSA #Pencigican Enjoyed reading? Commenting is now easy.  I introduced Facebook Comment feature. Please help my blog grow by leaving a comment and sharing with friends. Thank you!

I AM XENOPHOBIA I am Xenophobia I hate my brother I’ll untie mother’s wrapper I’ll break father’s Walking stick And stick(out) My head from the South Laughing to my delight While he stumbles in daylight. I am Xenophobia I envy my brother Who walked from the West To come rescue me From the Whiteman’s grip. My brother He fought for me. A war I couldn’t win. My lean Uncle Mandela He housed Under the umbrella of Brotherhood. But that’s history His folklore His old story. Today I rule the Whiteman He helped me dethrone. My brother from the West Have I vowed to waste. I am xenophobia My brother I hate. He’s better than I am But my Yellow Land Is better than his Oil-blackened Benue and Niger rivers. I am Xenophobia I am Xhosa I am Zulu I am a black fool Lazy I am Envy my lazy am- Strengthens against my brother. I am Xenophobia I hate my brother. Enjoyed reading? Commenting is now easy.  I introduced Facebook Comment feature. Please help my blog grow by leaving a comment and sharing with frien

I Know A Man I know a man, and I know you do Ever with the books, but greying a fool For what is he whose light reveals not his folly - when he beholds all supernal, the craft of fancy? I know a man, and I know you do Calls a young man to himself with a lowered lorgnette "I am enlightened", brags he, in deception's net and invites him to a banquet of knowledge untrue I know a man, and I know you do Drunk always in his chamber as his manner is, with reason Calleth God to his knees to be forgiven Doeth he, by folly, enthroned upon an oaken stool I know a man, and I know you do that looks upon the Holy Writ with an evil eye His worship abides with them that attends him the lie and knowest not his life is named nothing greater a vapour, morning dew I know a man, and I know you do growing all the wiser, the way of perdition yet do I owe him prayers for sight anew weeping against the desires of hell on knees broken - Martins Deep Click Here  for MORE poems by  Martins Deep Enj

I AM A CHRISTIAN When I say I am a Christian I’m not screaming 'I immune from sin!' I’m whispering “I die daily' It's His blood that wipes my stain. I was lost, with love he found me Daily I leverage on grace. When I say I am a Christian I say it not in pride. I’m confessing that I stumble And need Christ to be my guide. His sacrifice made me humble So I walk with lofty strides. When I say I am a Christian I’m not bragging of my faith I’m admitting I have failed And needs Christ to seal my fate. I am a Christian I trust you now understand. #Pengician #SSA Click Here  to get a FREE copy of the  #PunPoetryAnthology Enjoyed reading? Commenting is now easy.  I introduced Facebook Comment feature.  Please help my blog grow by leaving a comment and sharing with friends. Thank you!

Stay Positive Let the lion roar Let the sea rage I still shall soar Higher... a better sage. Let the billows roll Peace still shall sooth my soul. Let the waves get angrier Peter will walk in water. Storms do not alarm me. Circumstances cannot break me Delay do not bend me. Pressures do not fret me. Among the stars I pitch my tent. Across the sky My name I paint. I shall keep my flicker Burning... till life's done. I'll outlive scary nights So help me Lord. Amen and Amen. #Pengician #SSA Enjoyed reading?  Commenting is now easy.  I introduced Facebook Comment feature. Please help my blog grow by leaving a comment and sharing with friends. Thank you!

MILECENT LIFE INSPIRATION FOUNDATION popularly and formerly known as Mileage is a Multi-visionary, non-profit and non-political organisation, established to be a bridge of social and medical solution.  Vision: To be a bridge of solution on sex education, social uprightness and a promoter of holistic living within the continent. The foundation has a proposed clinic to serve the community and source of medical attention and intervention to victims and depressed individuals in the society towards ensuring holistic living. The clinic will sit sides with the Milecent Foundation Library which will be open to all, to access information and make findings of interest which will be useful personally and to the benefit of the community at large.  Founded by Okolo Ikechukwu Innocent, a renounced medical practitioner cum writer, emotional coach and social entrepreneur with a great team to help build this selfless dynasty, named Milecent Life Inspiration Foundation.  Mission:  To sensitise 12 comm

POEM 231: SABRINA (V) you're, a sunshine in winter a moonlight in dark nights a rainbow in grey skies a medley in sour times a symphony of good times you're everything void of less a mesh of beautiful mess a tale of flawlessness an oasis of sweetness a candlestick of illuminance you're you, me, in a jar of us you, me, a canvas of colours you, me, splashed against a wall you, me, a scintillating reflection Sabrina everything better than best the east that meets my west the satisfaction of my quest I've found home in your breasts I may now lay my quill to rest #365DaysOfPoetry #Pengician #SSA Enjoyed reading? Commenting is now easy.  I introduced Facebook Comment feature. Please help my blog grow by leaving a comment and sharing with friends. Thank you!

POEM 230: SABRINA (IV) Sabrina, would you let me drink you, like cheap whiskey, in an old mug and get drun(k) (in you) ? would you let me dance the ballet around your aura or write a ballad about your aura? would you let me make moans escape your throat like chimney expunging smoke? would you let me make you young again like the electrifying currents that sweep you away and set you blaze whenever I Igbolize your name? Sabrina nwa this poem is for moments that will gradually turn into a home of you and I #365DaysOfPoetry #Pengician #SSA Enjoyed reading? Commenting is now easy.  I introduced Facebook Comment feature. Please help my blog grow by leaving a comment and sharing with friends. Thank you!

POEM 229: SABRINA (III) Sabrina, give me a love that will uncurl my soul like the petals of a rose give me a love that will reflect you like the glow of the moon give me a love that will cleave deep skin like tattoo on my wrist give me a love that will overhaul my world or give me nothing at all #365DaysOfPoetry #Pengician #SSA Enjoyed reading? Commenting is now easy.  I introduced Facebook Comment feature. Please help my blog grow by leaving a comment and sharing with friends. Thank you!

When Old Wounds Bleeds It comes unbidden like an avalanche invoked by old familiar odors touching your skin like eels travelling through the spine When old wounds bleeds The lips wants to excuse the soul with new songs too feeble an anchor to keep sanity The heart strives to keep the tombstone unrolled but the chronicles reads itself into the wells of your eyes that runs over Echoes reverberates, noiselessly as a sunken treasure-ship hits the ocean floor The exclamations of passion, Father's words slips out through the fissures of his grave- his sinewy hands outstretched offering the oil lamp of the wise Old acquaintances come to play as flies, the sores on Lazarus when old wounds bleed The azure wears a widow's mourning wrapper The melodies of skylarks falls upon the ears like the cry of black ravens upon plains where fallen sons lay asleep from the kisses of poisoned arrows beyond the recognition of their mothers When old wounds bleeds violins replace the djembe The red

HOW DO I FIND MYSELF? Why do I not dance to the bidding rhythms of the frenzied drummers in my chest? Why do I throw the javelin at the harpist to keep the music? Why do I turn to prison bars what will make his strings? I have held up the dagger awaiting the frantic bleating of an oxen in the thicket My Isaac dies I will not live half-way home What feeds this fire - this ashes from all the toys I toiled to abide my bosom? Why do I flee my reflection on filthy rags upon the Holy Writ? Why do I find the cracks it seeks to fill up the tomb? Why do I love the feel of the chains around my ankles, wrists? Why do I feel undone when the man comes with a saw? Why do I choke my fool at the feet of wisdom by holding tightly the scroll of a man? How do I find my way? Why do I dig up fallen stars to name after a broken man under a cross that isn't mine to die on? - Martins Deep Click Here  to get a FREE copy of the  #PunPoetryAnthology Enjoyed reading? Commenting is now easy.  I introduced F

Whenever I need expert advice, I'm the first that comes to mind. So I sit me down and talk sense into my head.  It's not pride. It's not weird. It's not insane. It's normal. Your parents do it. You. I. We. All. Do. It. Either with words spoken or thoughts ruminated upon. Talking to one's self is cool. Sometimes one needs to move away from the crowd, sit and talk to oneself, tell one what's going on and what one should do and how to go about it.  I feel talking to oneself sometimes gives one this inner strength that one can do just anything. Actually talking to yourself is a sign of intelligence. So, if you're among those that do it, you're wise. Genius. Normal. Super intelligent. Keep talking to yourself. Alright? You're not a retard! But complaining to yourself while walking on the road is a sign that you need a shrink's attention.  Make communicating with yourself a habit. Trust me, the emotional bliss and mental relief can be quantified