I can’t see you
But like lovers in a long-distance relationship
I feel you more than words could tell
You’re in me
You feel off me.

Like a static sun
An unperturbed stallion
You don’t turn or kick often
Like the others did before they washed out

Still there’s energy
Quiet but coursing through
Like the lazy rumble of an idling sports car.

I could be wrong
You might be like the others
Soon I might look down
At the part of me that used to be your home
Baby bump gone

I could be right
That you’re here to stay
That you’re not some impatient sprinter
One who jumps the gun only to be disqualified
Evicted from your race to life before it’s begun

I could be right
There’s so much life within you
You just might have found a home within me
I just might have found some hope in you
And just this time, I believe you’ll stay.


In the meantime, I’ll pray
I’ll hope
I’ll wait with so much love on offer
What I’ll call you I do not know
But you will call me mom.
Photo Credit:


On Sunday I just woke up with a deep burden in my heart for the abducted girls of Chibok, Bornu State, Nigeira, by the dreaded Boko Haram terrorist group. All i could think about was what those girls would have gone through, how many would even be alive, etc. It’s sad really that we’re getting weary in the struggle to demand the release of these girls. As Nigerians, we don’t really dwell much on one issue before moving to the next. But we owe these captive daughters of distraught parents a duty not to forget. We must never let them feel alone in this. This might not be much, I only hope it serves as a reminder. If that happens, maybe I’ll sleep happy. And no, it is not a happy poem, neither is it just about the Chibok girls or the Boko Haram or Nigeria alone.

Like my friend Mary Ajayi said, enforced disappearance is used as a strategy to spread terror within the society. It occurs when people are arrested, detained or abducted against their will and when governments refuse to disclose the whereabouts of these people. Enforced disappearance is a global problem and is not restricted to a specific region of the world. In our way, we must all do what we can to bring this issue to light and ensure it never dims till it’s addressed.


I miss mother, father too
Even brother, I forgive his trouble too
I’d rather have him bully me
Than have these guns inspire nothing but terror in me

Mother, I’m sure she’s sick with grief
Father’s torment stoically hidden I feel
Left to wonder what has become of me
A daughter lost is worse than one dead

I wonder if they’ll come for us
If we’re left to our fates; captives without ransom
If our salvation is nothing but a myth
Before this place begins to feel like home

I’ve heard hell sucks but that I’ll rather have
Than the shrieks and screams that embrace us at night
A week ago a feisty Patty yanked away
In her place a cowering Patty shivers away

I miss school, the tolling bells and whooshing canes
Teachers chasing while we spring away
Fleet of foot like a gazelle in flight
Our fates now we know not in this lion’s den

I know not what day it is anymore
What month, what week, what date?
Ignorant of the time and seasons
Only known to me is the grey dawn, yellow noon and ashen dusk

I miss mother, father too
Even brother, I forgive his trouble too
I’d rather have him bully me
Than have these guns inspire nothing but terror in me

#BringBackOurGirls #ChibokGirls

Image from

Madiba – My Farewell To Nelson Mandela

Jet black turned grey strands
Sinewy strength to frail gaits
Legacy not in riches
Wealth shorn of precious stones

Beyond a year score in captivity
Bastion of freedom slightly short of a century
A leader from the front,
An embodiment of hope

Forever we’ll glean from your legacy of liberation
Of faith and hope…
Courage and vigour
Resilience and determination

We’ve got lessons to learn from
Codes to live by
A foundation of service
Built on with humility and love

We will miss you
We’ll never forget you
Your wonderful journey may be done
But you’re never over.



The world is merging
Continents are melding
Not by space
Not by time
Consequence of media fusing strangers

Traditions clash
We get shocked
Ways of one
Taboo to another
Diverse in background, uniform in humanity

Africans bleach, Caucasians tan
We’re fast becoming one clan
We tinker, we compromise
Light up the melting pot
And season the stew with conflicting perspectives

Culture becomes subculture
White embraces black or the other way around
We blur, we grey
We’re going global
Enjoy the ride


We’re tired
We’re worn
Faces ground to ground by tyrants’ boots
But we turn the other cheek
And embrace the caress of Italian shoes
Welcomed into arms proffering rotund bellies

We’re suffocated
We’re chocked
Tarrying for the gutsy wind of transformation
Wasn’t it called a ‘breath of fresh air’?
Still we await a draught
Slipping through a sliver of hope
To assuage troubled pharynx

So we grow restless
And chant
Backing the new dark horse on the track
Hoping to outmanoeuvre the loathed stallion
We just might win
This just might work
The odds look good, don’t they?

We want change
That unyielding constant clothed in variance
What if it’s garbage-in-garbage out?
Leave that worry for the dirt cart pusher
A flushing of faeces with clean water is welcome
Even if to await impending shit

We pray for our champions to take over
Robes for robes, rogues for rogues?
A change of colour with the vagaries of location
But remaining a chameleon still
Oga tabi Oga?
O ga!

Barabbas is freed
Silver Judas is damned
Ole ji, jaguda gba
A rogue for a traitor
Jesus is slain
Salvation has come


PS: Yeah we’ve cheered the registration of the Alliance for Progressive Change (APC) as being good for Nigerian democracy. It just might be. But I wonder if they’re the change we really need or if we just want any kind of change – anything to get the ruling Peoples’ Democratic Party out. Is it a matter of any change being good; same roguish intent but different affiliations? Till then, fingers crossed.

PS 2: Native language use:
Oga tabi Oga? (Verse 5, line 5): the two words have the same spelling in Yoruba language, but are pronounced differently and mean different things too. The first word means chameleon; the second, master. The sentence is roughly translated to mean, “Chameleon or master?”

O ga in verse 5, line 6 is just for effect. In the context in which it is used, it indicates a feeling of resignation, like saying “Oh well…”

Ole Ji, Jaguda gba (verse 6, line 3) is a Yoruba saying used to imply a common thief stealing for a robber to claim. In essence, nothing’s changed.Apologies for the lack of a Yoruba keyboard to include the different markings indicating a change in the application of stress and sound variations.



It’s a siege
Yet another one
They pummel and hammer
on and on at the walls
Walls built around our hearts
To shield us from the hurt
Suffered in times past

They pound the gates
Force with battering rams
Not belligerent but pleading
Entreating to get in
Assuring with pleas of restoration
To a place worn and beaten
Hardened by cynicism and scepticism

They intensify with caterpults
Like the Greeks did with Troy
Only these aren’t stones or rocks
But words and actions
Targeted at softening resolve
Opening gates and walls
Left high up for so long

So we yield and soften
Pull down our walls
Embracing hope
that we wouldn’t have to rebuild
Hoping that this isn’t just another invasion…
an invasion of the heart.