Three Nigerian poems about you

poems

Letting go

These days i readily feel the need to cry.
To let tears find their way down my chiseled cheeks.
Maybe not the loud whimpering cry.
Just the quiet flow of emotions,
A quiet stream flowing down my eyes,
through my nose to the two ends of my lips,
My mistakes stopping at the reaches of my tongue,
I taste the saltiness of my regrets,
The consequences of my mistakes,
I let more rain wash into my mouth,
I shall taste the result of my past,
I shall still smile with this mouth,
When i reap the results of these new seeds.

Xenophobia - a Poem

Xenophobia

The sun has set on the eastern skies
of this continent.
The Eagles that once swarm our happy
skies have retired in disgrace.
Crows now roam,
picking pieces of carcasses,
the victims of xenophobic fracases.

The fountain of our human kindness hath
dried up,
and the weight of imaginary excuses
now drive us to extinguishing the warm embers of brotherhood which once festered our progress and wealth.

The sacred groves and septic streets
lie baked with cakes of red hemoglobin,
I watch on TV as the life of one Mozambiqan violently sipped  through the gutter of a Durban street, until death tasted its last drop. The crowd cheered in disgrace.

Composed and written by
Onyeoziri Favour.

Banquet of Joy - a Poem

On May 2nd 2015, my friend Uthman Idris wedded his lovely wife Yetunde. This occasion inspired this poem.

A banquet of Joy

This evening, my feet is weary from elephantiasis of happiness.
The light of day had witnessed my epileptic dance moves.

And the dimming evening light had sneaked a last peek at my writhing body.
Immersed in a body of salty sweat pores, my clothe reeked of happiness and exuberance.

This night, i sit with beautiful memories on my right and an iced sachet of water in my hands.
The cool evening breeze warms my dipping spirit,
as i await the power company to restore electricity.

I'm used to waiting in an eternity of darkness, in exchange for a dusk of electricity.
I taste the excitement of the day on my lips, a friend had wedded.

Written by Onyeoziri Favour

A Morning Lasts Forever - Winter Poetry

Have you ever woken up a morning after a rainy night. Just imagine the cold chill of that morning, how the cold effectively wraps you up in the comfort of your bed. If you had looked out through the window, you would have seen the thin frost, the fog and the dew. At that moment, did you wish for this majic to end? did you want the sun to break through? or did you want the cold to last forever?

A Morning Lasts Forever

Silence surrounded the atmosphere,
A beautiful formless quietness,
Sparse showers of dew,
Clouded the breaking dawn,
Delaying the sun for a few more hours.

In the distance,
a dog walks its blind owner.
The park's flowers relish the
Wetness of their leaves.
A beautiful melody escapes the
Wind's chilly lips.

In all of its whiteness and beauty,
The shekeleke Bird perches on the
Fence, the flowers and the wet ground.
The snakes lay hidden in the warmth
Of their holes.
The chameleon turns the weather's colour.

My bed envelopes me in its warmth.
I take off a minute to kneel and look
Through the window to see the first
Ray of the fiery sun,
Breaking through our thick frost.
Nothing good lasts forever,
nay, nothing at all does.

Written by,

Onyeoziri Favour.

Poet, writter, blogger.

Rouvafe.blogspot.com

Suicidal - a Poem

For all those who feel like taking the quick exit to life, don't! our hearts are with you, we love you and all you need to do is to share. Life is much too beautiful to be spent on dying. #Love

Suicidal

she said she is suicidal,
that one day
she would drop off the earth,
like a ripe mango fruit.

unannounced, uncelebrated,
quietly, she would slip
through the back door
into oblivion
into eternity.

The rainbow does envy her - a poem

The rainbow does envy her

Beauty adorns her on every side,
it stalks her like a shadow in the happy sun.
The gape of her teeth reflects the depth of her innocence,
Her smile is the breaking dawn
after a moody night,
it brightens up everyone on its path.

Nature must be partial,
else, why did it bestow her with such fine legs and a graceful gait?
For even the rainbow does envy her.

Fixedly she set her eyes on my masculinity, sending a thousand ripples through the length of my spine.
My feet wobbled in a feverish dance.

Lady, you are a million imperfections locked into a body of perfection,
and to have you by my side,
the beginning and end of all my intention.
I Love you Nifemi,
You really are the one for me,
And i brace,
For the day, you'd offer your embrace.

Some of our readers sent in beautifully crafted Poems for Easter.

Easter

On Easter we celebrate love,
love coming down from heaven,

love blanketing the earth
in a transforming embrace;
unique and infinite love,

giving more than we can imagine
for us, to cleanse our sin,

a perfect sacrifice, Lamb of God,
the walking, talking Word.

He is teacher, role model, friend,
this God in human form,

dying, then rising from the dead,
proving all who believe

will also rise
to have eternal life, with Him,

Lord of all.
Oh, Happy, Happy Easter

~Laura~

Death was his birth

Heaven's where he rests
But we remember him
Worship him
Son of the Nephilim.

Holiness was his crime
Still he owed no dime
With miracles and signs
He upheld the laws of the land
His greatness is far more than that of optimus prime.
The blind:
got salvation from the cuticles of his hands.

When the snakes come at night,
And you want to test his might,
Call up his name in the thick of the night,
Then pause for the strike as thunder ignites
The chains of death as the saviour arise.

So as Easter ends
and the drumsticks digest
Have no fear, the father is here
Guarding our heads and guiding our steps
Joy to the world for her beauty is here
Shout out to God because Easter is here.

~Dayo~

Please share among your social networks.

Contact me on Email at favouronyeoziri@gmail.com
                  Or
Bbm via 7c6f5de2

This poem is dedicated to the over 145 victims of a terrorist attack on a Kenyan University Yesterday. RIP

On April 2, 2015, terrorists attacked a Kenyan University Campus, fatally shooting hundreds and injuring many others in the process. This poem is dedicated to the 147 dead and several other injured victims of the Garissa University College, Kenya.

Dying young
Flags fly in half mast,
barely able to dance to the
sardonic rhyme of the air's dirge.
The crows shed tears of sorrow.
oh! how prematurely they have been
reaped - leaders of tomorrow.

Death wore four innocent faces,
to disguise the sinister
nature of its mission,
They sneaked into a University campus,
and made a happy nation bitter.

Four index fingers pulled four triggers,
they fed the bellies of the innocent with hot lead.
147 smiles, crying to their graves; untimely.
We shall not cower, we fear not,
until we pull off these societal weeds
and make them pay
for the innocent they made bleed

Onyeoziri Favour
(Writer, poet and blogger at
Rouvafe.blogspot.com)

2 Poems to honour Christ this Easter

Among Christian circles, today is known as Good Friday, the day Jesus Christ was supposed to have been crucified over 2,000 years ago. These poems serves as a tribute to our messiah this easter.

Jesus' Love

Crucify him! rent the atmosphere.
this rabid mob bubbled
with the energy of injustice.

Crucify him! their voices laced with anger.
I took up my hammer
and nailed in a six inch into his palm
I felt no remorse.

Crucify him! spittle flew from their mouths
their eyes reddened with rage.
If you were Pontius Pilate,
would you do otherwise?
yet he cried forgive them lord.

accursed, he hung on the cross
and absolved them of intent for their crime
he said;
father, they know not what they are doing.

The Saviour at Easter

An immortal terminated by mortality,
The holy book testifies to how
He forfeited His glorious position,
To thread the path of dust, flesh and blood.

Their feet emersed in a bowl half-filled,
A fine towel of silk weave held in his hands,
Each foot he cleansed, then the other,
A certain peter mockingly opted for a bath.
He laughed it off. He taught them an invaluable lesson in humility.

A certain one among you would betray me.
They all asked is it 'I'.
The last time his divine cheeks were kissed
Was the last time he kissed freedom bye.

Today, he trudges through the streets,
A heavy cross resting on his shoulders.
No one volunteered to volunteer,
So Joseph of Aramathea was forcefully invited to help him out,
Lest he expired, before hanging on the tree,
As a cursed Man, for the expiation of our sins.

I know you can afford 3 minutes to read this Motivation disguised as a poem.

Success

Though life presents me with bitter sweet gifts,

yet, would I wear my smiles like a royal garb,

an Iroko of courage, standing with roots deeply clinging unto the foundations of the earth.

unwavering, unflinching, unashamed, unabashedly weathering winters and summers.

Through dull smiles and happy tears,
my focus would stick to the dancing rays of the wavering light at the tunnel's end.

A rare bicker of hope, beckoning on my string of failures to never quit trying.
The Man kicked the bucket, but it refused to budge.

A Poem about the The British Military Expedition on Benin in 1898

In early 1898, the British army marched on the ancient African city of Benin. This was a reprisal attack, following the Benin Massacre of a British convoy in 1897. The convoy, led by British Consul Phillips was headed for Benin, in spite of having been told they were not welcome.

The British army consequently sacked the ancient city, hanging chiefs, burning houses and stealing hundreds of exquisite Benin  artifacts in the process.

The British Massacre of Benin

I am the Oba of Benin,
Ovonramwem the great!
They painted my kingdom with fire,
Then birthed my artifacts in their museums.

A letter i would never read,
Was addressed to the Queen.
Blood flowed like a racing river,
They called ague a festival of barbarians.
Then birthed our artifacts in their museums.

My Chiefs hung suspended between the sky and the earth.
Their fires voraciously fed on my habitat,
Infants and women fell as the tiny pyramid leads ate into their flesh.
They birthed our artifacts in their museums.

They waved their bloody fists in the air,
A successful massacre by their civilised standards.
They had no honour, pity or love,
Bibles were sewn in our farms,
We reaped schools and colonisation.

"They have no technology nor civilisation",
He stopped himself in mid-track.
The pieces of art in his palms said otherwise.
They shunned the voice of truth,
And sang home a victory song.

We had no civilisation?
Yet you beheld our arts
And stood spellbound.
You smuggled them to England,
To sit among the best of yours.

We had no civilisation,
Yet the Queen refuses to return
Our ugly sculptures and carvings.
The Benin artifacts,
Lives in British museums
To prove how blatant a lie can be.

This poem is dedicated to the Sun on a snowy Day

Coloured Rays

It wakes up behind the clouds,
takes its bathe in the misty fog.
A crown of radiance adorns
its crystal face.

Look down upon us,
With your eyes of lightning,
let a breaking ray be your Smile,
We wish to embrace the warmth
Of your presence.

Come, break the thicket of snow,
Which has usurped our streets.
We wish no longer for
The mound of glassy sea
Which capsulates our cars.

I want to play on the curb,
Kevin happily announces to Mum,
He pretends unawares of
the chilly fingers of the cold.
She replies him,
Pray to Ra the sun god.

A Morning Lasts Forever - A Poem

A Morning Lasts Forever

Silence surrounded the atmosphere,
A beautiful formless quietness,
Sparse showers of dew,
Clouded the breaking dawn,
Delaying the sun for a few more hours.

In the distance,
a dog walks its blind owner.
The park's flowers relish the
Wetness of their leaves.
A beautiful melody escapes the
Wind's chilly lips.

In all of its whiteness and beauty,
The shekeleke Bird perches on the
Fence, the flowers and the wet ground.
The snakes lay hidden in the warmth
Of their holes.
The chameleon turns the weather's colour.

My bed envelopes me in its warmth.
I take off a minute to kneel and look
Through the window to see the first
Ray of the fiery sun,
Breaking through our thin frost.
Nothing good lasts forever,
nay, nothing at all does.

Written by Onyeoziri Favour
Favouronyeoziri@gmail.com

Have you ever wished for those good old days when honesty paid and hard work brought wealth and riches? Yes! I Wish

Away With Virtues and Vice

Flabbergasted, i have seen you carry on,
with patience and poverty hounding your
every step.
You speak of wants and lack,
as kings do Gold and Silver.

Impressed, You hold your head above water,
You drown without a scream for savage,
those echoes you make
exists but in you head.

You talk of dignity and honour,
Like a plaque it adorns your
Hungry face,
The contrast, even a clown would humour.

Days when honour
was worth more than a gold coin.
Years when a hard day's labour fed families.
Times when Honesty wasn't a dying word.
I wish those days back,
not for my crooked self,
But for you, the starving Saint.

Written by Onyeoziri Favour
Favouronyeoziri@gmail.com

In this our selfish world, this Poem is a Brother's passionate plea to a Fellow Brother

Betrayal of trust is rife in our present day society. Most people live for themselves, care only about themselves and would never do anything if it doesn't benefit them.

However humans were not originally created that way, Humans are meant to support one another, help each other and face the innumerable struggles of life as a formidable, united front.

This Poem is a passionate plea for us to return to our natural state of Caring for and considering the interests of others around us.

  Ode To My Brother

Humans must first learn the denial of self,
The heart wants what it wants.
Ghosts must now haunt their predators,
We chirp about bountiful harvests,
Have all our actions been courteously cultivated?

Through dark tunnels
And slippery pathways.
Wounds infested by malice,
Love winding up on rejection highway.
Tough!
The road mortals must thread.

To wear a crown of thorns?
Bend beneath the coarseness of a Cross?
A six inch nail in each palm?
Or to enjoy a lavish dish of horsewhip?
I would gladly bear these all for you.
Brother!
Would you do the same?

Written by Onyeoziri Favour
Favouronyeoziri@gmail.com

A Poison Tree by William Blake is one of my favourite poems ever!

This has always been one of my best poems.

This poem by William Blake is a testimony to the inevitability of conflict in our society. Misunderstandings must occur both among friends and even between strangers.

What really matters, however is the approach with which we deal with such provocations and the ensuing anger.

The Poison Tree

“I was angry with my friend:
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.

And I watered it in fears
Night and morning with my tears,
And I sunned it with smiles
And with soft deceitful wiles.

And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright,
And my foe beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine -

And into my garden stole
When the night had veiled the pole;
In the morning, glad, I see
My foe outstretched beneath the tree.”

~William Blake (A Poison Tree)

This Poem is about a youth who sadly anticipates the worries of adulthood.

These days, i find myself writing more and more about my youthfulness and the dirge that would soon become of it.

As  someone who is still within the comfortable boundaries of his twenties, i look forward to another twenty years from now, and all i see is a stranger in the mirror, one or two deep creases on the forehead, three Children screaming 'Daddy', A wife who is constantly threatening to sue for a divorce and a fair sprinkle of grey hair.

Ageing scares me, and so i have learnt to talk about it everyday, until the day i would wake up and realise that finally, i had aged.

My Ageing Youth.

Day has hid its bright face,
Dusk invades the atmosphere,
It rides on the back of darkness,
The good days have bowed out.
A scene winds down.

Sorely, i miss the variant voices,
The arguments and agreements,
In the thick of dusk,
When the blackness had veiled the pole. Time stole upon us unawares
And usurped our youth and exuberance.

I long for the days past,
When our scuffles terminated in laughter.
Times when our shouts violated the night,
When our jokes defied the sacred midnight,
Beautiful memories of jests and jokes and.

We all blossomed into independence,
Responsibilities began to weigh in,
Sons must father sons,
Youth must prepare for days of grey hair.
Alas! The echoes of our laughter
Are carried away by the cares of adulthood.

A Poem about Unilag Lagoon Front.

Unilag Lagoon Front

we come here to watch the lagoon
Dance to the soft melodies of the wind,
the sun too, overhanging us,
sneaks a glance or two from behind the sailing clouds.

this lagoon front is being overrun by overconfident bushes,
a trickle of confident couples
and a horde of shy crabs.
Red crabs with their huge tentacles
clawing at the floor,
ready to make this funny run into their burrows at the slightest feel of noise.

students always have a way of giving cognomens to places,
Like calling a garden 'love garden',
In this school, everywhere is a love garden.
Little wonder why couples
come here to frolic,
No wonder the mosquitoes
prefer to mate here.

Written by Onyeoziri Favour.

The Best of Poetry

A Morning Lasts Forever

Silence surrounded the atmosphere,
A beautiful formless quietness,
Sparse showers of dew,
Clouded the breaking dawn,
Delaying the sun for a few more hours.

In the distance,
a dog walks its blind owner.
The park's flowers relish the
Wetness of their leaves.
A beautiful melody escapes the
Wind's chilly lips.

In all of its whiteness and beauty,
The shekeleke Bird perches on the
Fence, the flowers and the wet ground.
The snakes lay hidden in the warmth
Of their holes.
The chameleon turns the weather's colour.

My bed envelopes me in its warmth.
I take off a minute to kneel and look
Through the window to see the first
Ray of the fiery sun,
Breaking through our thin frost.
Nothing good lasts forever,
nay, nothing at all does.

Written by Onyeoziri Favour

Some More Beautiful Poetry

Miserly

Grope not for what is not there,
You ate your cake once,
Yet here you are,
Bearing a sign "missing apples".

Patience left your restless life
Decades ago,
It took along success and happiness,
Today you forget who gave them the quit notice.

Failure has punctuated your Methuselah life,
The kids in the street laughs at your ragged existence,
They think of you as their Elisha,
Howbeit, one who can neither summon a She-Bear,
Nor buy them a teddy Bear.