Sundays Are For Biscuit Bones
Photocredit- Adrian McDonald Sundays are for biscuit bones, rice and stew So the African experience taught you But today, mother failed to do the usual As you both return home from fellowship Your feet collides against stones and you wish it were your...
For Nostalgia
The day mother calls thy full name, She would staple a smile on each letter, Stress each syllable faithfully She would walk up through the corridor as you stand at the front yard In your pale Nigerian Jersey You didn’t wash your legs properly Your ankle...
Vernacular
When you see this, Vividly you remember that day, The day mother weaved a bunch of advice into your scalp She drove them in, tight Leaving no room for loose ends She speaks in vernacular Believing that with that, you’ll understand faster And you’ll take...
What Then is Love?
photocredit - Lexonart So what then is love? This feeling we all crave for Dribbling at the center of life Making passes at those who call for it Whose skillful enough to catch? What is this thing we call love Is it the numbness of familiar voices? Just...
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