The Path we Walk | Oladeji Popoola

The Path We Walk

This is the path,
A path of silent rattle of a labouring mother,
She died in thousand eyes.
The path of rot fleshes and piteous infants of 'milkless' breast.
Children! This is the path we walk....
The path of our ancestral spirits,
Of demons part without sacrifice of justice,
The path gods and goddesses drew battle lines.
Their blood, water and bones are still breathing.
A path of curse.
The path stinks of corruption and inhumanity.
See them as they spray soothing aerosol to arrest their weaknesses.
Both blended and stinks beyond adaptation.
Nigeria here we are...
This is the path they lay our legs
The path of infant head facing other way in silence.
Where are the elders?
Alas, this is the path we walk on.

About Writer:

Popoola Oladeji Abdullahi is a 200 level student of the department of Aquaculture and Fisheries Management, faculty of Renewable and Natural Resources, University of Ibadan. He bagged an NCE certificate in Agric Education from the Federal College of Education (special) Oyo, Oyo state. Likes to express his emotion and thought in poetic form and loves to learn through the creative work of others.

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shy, a poem

bashful, timid, quiet. shy If anyone you know has used these terms to describe you, you're probably a bit shy. Everyone feels that way once in a while. Shyness and social anxiety are common, no matter how old you are. There is one myth about social anxiety and social anxiety disorder that I would like to dispel. The myth says that social anxiety is just exaggerated shyness. This myth encourages the idea that anxious people are merely weak-willed pushovers. It is partially because of this myth, I think, that well-intentioned people offer the relevant but insensitive and patronizing advice like, “Don’t worry about it!” , “Just do it” and “Face your fears.” Thinking on all these, I wrote this poem: shy when a shy person speaks, it's like music from guitar strings. when a shy person smiles, it’s like the sun coming out when a shy person steps out it's like the uncommon visit of gods when a shy person reclines it feels like moon eloped from night when a shy person is 'i

Dustbin And Drafts - Stefn Sylvester Anyatonwu

POEM 142: DUSTBIN AND DRAFTS He was the night sky, She was a star, Always together, Never one. He wrote what he felt for her of how her twinkles light up his dark. But they never get to her. One more note was added in his drafts. Fragrant pens and beautiful poems Pink papers and artistic handwriting. She wrote about the beauty in his black of how they make her twinkles shine. but they never got to him. Only the dustbin knows how much she loves him - Stefn Sylvester Anyatonwu #365DaysOfPoetry #Pengician #SSA Enjoyed reading? Please help my blog grow by leaving a comment and sharing with friends. Thank you!

For Leah Shabiru - Stefn Sylvester Anyatonwu

POEM 136: FOR LEAH SHABIRU I can't find the words right To describe Leah's plight. I hope this little piece of mine Awakens our voiceless unconcern. Does she feel giddy? Does she still cry? Does she look out the window and heave a sigh? How long shall this gravity Hold her down to these rascals? I know she kicks but in vain I know she whispers prayers to her God Or maybe she now doubts his existence. Does she wish her breathe be gone? But she's just a teenager Who dreamt of leaving her deadbeat town One day she went to chase dreams The next she was never found Sunrise and sunset have come and gone and Leah is still in the devil's lair. You and I, we eat, we sleep She's not our own, we care not a bit Until same fate cross our path Trample our wives And rip our hearts Only then shall we realize in Leah died our very soul. - Stefn Sylvester Anyatonwu #365DaysOfPoetry #Pengician #SSA Enjoyed reading? Please help my blog grow by leaving a comment and sharing with friends

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