God's Plan (ii) | Stefn Sylvester Anyatonwu

POEM 266: GOD'S PLAN (ii)

From me to God:

Dear God, good morning, Father
Why do I feel like you slept last night?

While I slept, as the manner of men is,
you also laid you down to sleep?

It's dawn but look, the sun is gone.
Not one bird tweet a song.

The little plans I tried to carry through,
they've failed.

The tool I thought to use,
they're frail.

Yet your word would not I sorrow,
to pause a little while, and try, again, tomorrow?

But yesterday, like years past, is lost,
I can't see beyond this storm of dust.

Got plans for me? I don't feel good.
I might scale through, who knows? Do you?

Your son,
Stefn.

From God to me:

Dear Stefn, beautiful morning, son of man.
I watched over you throughout the night.

If you take me by the way you feel,
then your faith in me isn't real.

I say this not, to cause you shame.
You're human, frail in faith,
I was once the same.

I have walked this path you crawl today.
I once carried a cross of shame along this way.

At a point, when Golgotha was near,
I almost gave in to my fear.

No one has jeered and mocked you, son,
like they did, to me, before my mum.

Yet, I scaled through
Yes you too, can walk right through.

Stefn, as for your plans, they didn't fail.
I've planned it all, time will tell.

Although the sea in tumult wail,
Don't fret, Stefn, your plans will sail.

Your God,
Ja.

#365DaysOfPoetry
#Pengician
#SSA

Comments

Fiction | The Tripod Effect

THE TRIPOD EFFECT The Smiths were unable to conceive children and decided to use a surrogate father to start their family. On the day the surrogate father was to arrive, Mr. Smith kissed his wife and said, "I'm off. The man should be here soon" Half an hour later, just by chance a door- to-door baby photographer rang the doorbell, hoping to make a sale. "Good morning, madam. I've come to...." "Oh, no need to explain. I've been expecting you," Mrs. Smith cut in. "Really?" the photographer asked. "Well, good. I've made a speciality of babies" "That's what my husband and I had hoped. Please come in and have a seat" After a moment, she asked, blushing, "Well, where do we start?" "Leave everything to me. I usually try two in the bathtub, one on the couch and perhaps a couple on the bed. Sometimes the living room floor is fun too; you can really spread out!" "Bathtub, living room floo...

Letter To My Son

Dear Son Try to forget that nothing waits in the dark, raise your shoulder high wave off the frea and step into that lane. Won't you rather be gone in there than stay out here playing the coward? Get up now, son everyone falls. #Pengician #SSA http://bit.ly/2haEhoj

Featured Poem: Slavery In Africa - by Uwen Precious Ogban

SLAVERY IN AFRICA We believe they rowed their boats of tumults into our region; carrying with them bags of conundrums, while we drummed our drums and jollied to their, intonation. The way they dressed, the way they addressed us Made us mime to the harmony and yearns in their speeches of a dawn to civility and hale: that was a start of the course of slavery in Africa. We still thought they were our brothers, because our chiefs rolled floridly with their proposals While we were mockingly disposed of In the field, or given to bespoken tailors as apprehends; as helps; in servitude; ‘posed to carry out orders as the come in flicks. We became babies in our own motherland we became cartage of their foreign plans. We cleared our huts so that they could find comfy and build on our strengths draining our tears as they wryly whipped us on our backs. Their wisdom their prowess They used to molest And we gazed in cluelessness Cause we still didn’t see it as slavery then – but as pain, so enjoyable....

Jaachi Writes

Search This Blog