Imole Olusanya

While flying over you, weakling,   We saw you — with your fully empty head,   Harbouring the thought of superiority.   We could have looked away;   We saw one of yours, bitten by a snake,   Writhing in pain, no help in sight.   We could have helped him;   We saw you bathing in a room with no roof,   Scraping the dirt outside, while the inside remained clogged.   We could have looked away;   We saw your neighbour selling your son,   The same son you declared missing days ago.   We could have foiled his plans;   We saw your leaders feasting with the culprits,   The same culprits who disturbed the sea.   We could have frustrated them;   But lo,   And behold —   We saw one of mine, wings broken,   Sprawling on the dark brown earth.   We saw your sons and daughters watch,   With faces ...

  Pot besieges charcoal Charcoal rages Pot is heated. Egg attacks water Water seethes Egg boils. Trash frustrates fire Fire flares up Trash burns. Flour invades oil Oil fumes Flour is captivated. We order our minds Our minds rebel We wail.

Beloved brethren, Look at me trying to better my life Exposing my delicate skin as fair as the moon, While it is ready to depart the sky To the noon angry sun, making a living, Begging like a mendicant without a begging bowl That people may take a look at my unlucky wares Time used to be walking on slippery floors But now it is limping on slippery sloppy floors. Beloved brethren, Look at me now expanding my coast, With many heads at my beck and call Cain and Ahittophel like weeds had sprung up in my beautiful garden and I had separated them from the soil beneath I am making merry but Time is no longer treading on boggy ground It is now in possession of metallic wings.

  I have eaten cheeses the softest cheese; I have eaten nuts the hardest nut; I have eaten sweets the sweetest sweet; I have eaten biles the bitterest bile; I have been given a couple of packages; the wildest squirms and the loveliest tickles; the half-moon sometimes remained stable in my sky while the full moon played hide and seek; the cheerful sun made me want to swear and the sorrowful sky’s tears foiled my plans; the kind light gave me a ray of hope and the sinister darkness comforted me best; I have had a bit of all they had had a bit of all; these bits swallowed them I swallowed these bits.

  Nutty in he went berserk like a bull gored the tall poked the short. Sweet out he glistened with his glitz bowed to the old a belly laugh with the young. Like water dabbled in unstable guile like a chasm covered with a golden flannel attractive hoax. Man eye cool muddy inside maniacal master of words benighted fellas believe he is benign.

When you stab You pierce hard;  When you soothe It is like the refreshing wind  When one is soaked with sweat  from throttling heat. You are like a word left unsaid  No hearer can discern it; You are the dream of pharaoh  The very content of manifestos  The weight of wisdom in a fool's ravings  Empty void null. Comforting agony  Refuge from labour  Citadel from torture An escape from duty  The bereaved's best friend  The blind's loyal pal. During your reign, There existed a seeker  who groped in nothing less; A seeker who collided with walls  when within his reach was what he sought. Here is a poem about darkness. The poet describes darkness by attributing human qualities to it. The first stanza starts with ‘when you stab, you pierce hard’, this could result from how engulfing darkness can be; it dominates. ‘When you soothe, it is like the…’, the remaining lines speak of the sweet part of darkness. Darkness soothes, especi...

  Gains of stressful days I endured You snatched in place of throbs You tossed me relics for worthy souvenirs  You made me to cringe To cringe as the ornaments of the sky does When the rain arrives. Fresh fruits of painful nights That grew from the bittersweet roots of labour To keep my breath in place And my folks respiring You snatched for rapacity All to my detriment. The coin has been tossed a lot It has given you all heads Tail is on its way with trumpets It will be my turn Your longing face for the sole of my shoes And your breath badly battered. Poetic devices Anadiplosis and simile in the first stanza.  Anadiplosis simply means using the words that end a line to start the next line. "...to cringe. To cringe..."  Simile - indirect comparison "...as the ornaments of the sky does..." The way I cringed is compared to how stars (ornaments of the sky) do. Oxymoron and alliteration. Alliteration, the recurrence of same sound in a line. F and r alliterates in "...

  She loves him but can not speak How would she approach a man first? A man ought to do the wooing She would be seen as being desperate But the flame of love keeps burning Her heart flutters at his arrival. He loves her but can not speak How would he not lose his dignity? She greatly respects him and his words He fears that she would be disappointed But the flame of love keeps burning His heart flutters at her arrival. Will he ever get to love me? Will he ever get to compliment my looks? Will she not stay away from me if I reveal my feelings? Will she ever be so close again? Will he? Will she? 𝓣𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓴𝓼 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓰 ❤️

  While you cry, Permit me to laugh a bit; To all of you, Mama passed on and the angels took her home Because she was juveniles’ mother at church Because she was a cheerful giver And a valiant prayer warrior. But to me, Mama had horns Just that they were inbuilt Mama had me shut my lips After I saw her with a voodoo. While mama’s death pushes you to tears, Permit me to laugh a bit. Here is an ironical poem about a child asking the mourners to permit him to laugh a bit while they cry. The woman who died was seen as a saint by all but to the child, she was a demon because the child had caught her with a charm and she asked him to keep his lips shut and tell no one. This poem is beyond the surface meaning of a child and a mama with voodoo but of a lot of people out there with double identity; people that are seen as good and whose mighty works are praised but who are actually wicked and who in the dark commit many atrocities. These people play on the innocence or ignorance of others. ...

  The long dim shadows Of surrounding trees, The hooting sound of an owl, With enchanting whispers of the breeze. The rhythmic movements Of scudding clouds, The cock-a-doodle-doo of a cock, With tranquilizing gurgles of the brooks. The gentle sharp tingles Of moving reeds, The chirping of a cricket, With startling buzzes of wild bees. A remembrance of our existence, The very essence of our being, That as they live on, So should we. Here is a poem about nature and life. The essence of living is made known through nature. The poem is in four stanzas with each stanza made up of a quatrain (four lines). This poem has no end rhymes but gets its rhythm through the repetition of words, sounds and similar ideas. Poetic devices in this poem include: 1. Onomatopoeia, as seen in the sounds such as cock-a-doodle-doo,  2. Repetition, as seen in the repetition of the first word of each line in the first three stanzas. 3. Alliteration, as seen in -z- which alliterates in line 12.

  The sneaky road has an end but it is not visible; The road is sloppy but full of hurdles; The tyre starts to roll and gently rolls on; It hits bumps stumps and rolls on; It rolls over blades and suffers cuts; It gets caught up in a ditch in a deep hollow ditch; A passer-by moves closer and gives it a kick; The tyre rolls on again steadily on and on; The tyre rolls on fast and sometimes slow; It looks as if there is no end but down there is the end; Maybe very far from here or just very soon. This poem is about a tyre rolling which figuratively means the journey of life of an individual. Indeed, the road is sloppy since time never stops. The hardships in life are the ‘hurdles’ they include ‘bumps’, ‘blades’ and life threatening ones like ‘a deep hollow ditch’. Some get swallowed forever in the ditch while some survive through helps of any kind, for example, ‘a passerby’. There is surely an end to the road since we all have to die someday. Just that we do not know if it is very far...

Everyday the struggle harden at times smiles creep in, at times tears but none have come to stay a leap of joy and rest are countless numbers of time taken but none have showed its face for long; But with a fast spin as of pirouette on a pointé these tender hands have finally touched the switch. This is a poem I wrote from a prompt on Sharpened Vision, a poetry course on Coursera.   Writing a poem on: The (a concrete idea) of (an abstract idea).  

Flat, sober faced With two hands slow but steady, saving from ruins or announcing an approaching ruin hands stationed on the face hands controlled by the crown a crown in between allied fingers winding to and fro With numbers a dozen and a tiny arm stretched, unresting wings spreading wild wings enclosed when tamed around idle and busy wrists. This is written from a prompt on Sharpened Vision, a poetry course on Coursera.

One murderous mourning murderer murdered mourning mothers monthly. The more murdered mourning mothers mourned, the more mourning mothers murdered. Months on months more mourning mothers mourned, Months on months more mourning mothers murdered. Mounts and founts more murdered mourning mothers found. The modern mourning mothers mourned not their modern mummies, The murderous mourning murderer murdered not the modern mothers. Here's a play on words and sounds. The poem relates a tale of a mourning murderer murdering any mother that mourns.

Once white once red he is finally black Once white milky teeth sweet faced pinky lips tender hands with a heart as snow and void of ills Once red stumbles upon a stack of memories abhors to harbour the fiery feeling touches the switch and He is finally black clenched teeth sour faced cut lips bloody hands with a heart as stone and veiled with ills. This poem talks about a certain man who is once white (good) but later, he becomes red (realises some ugly incidents in the past) and finally becomes black (dangerous & revengeful). There are folks whose stories are related to this. They are the cool, easy going type until they realise what has been done to them and can not let that be a bygone.  

  I am friends with a guy who has just one friend. My friend is a sheep his brother is a bull his sister is a snake his mum is a pig his dad is a chameleon his twin is a goat his friend is a dove they are what they are. This poem introduces us to a family and each member of the family is described as an animal. They are to be seen as the attributive character of the animals they are called.

When God made us he implanted in us a device with the name IP and equipped us with the ability to insert a V by taking a step at a time but some of our men feel like the tower of Pisa though inspiring, bending yet unmoving and when they see the birds fly over the Burj Khalifa and over the Everest some chose to be so not static as the wife of Lot when she looked back but spreading their wings  over highs and lows some are bats and owls flying at night while we sleep in our cradles some are chameleons taking the appearance of others some are doves angelic and obedient some are hawks feasting on the flesh of the vulnerable VIP is not for some but VVVIP and for many of those their V turns R. Here is a poem on haste to get rich and powerful. God has equipped us with what we need to get all we wanted in the right way although it may be quite long but being long or not being satisfied has made some do a lot of evils to get all they want and this only turns them from VIP (Very Important Pe...

I stopped by the daisies dancing to the mellifluous voice of the air and parted my lips. “Dear dancing daisies, how do you feel being controlled by the air? do you enjoy the dance or it's against your will? Your answer can help me in this situation.” And the daisies breathed,   “Air? The air is only a servant. Why should we detest even the wind when it only carries out its duty?” Then a daisy patted my calf and added, “I understand your plight but let us not compare a messenger with a master.” And as I walked away, I thought, “How? How do I know masters from messengers who resemble masters?” This poem is written with an aim to opening our eyes to what me might not be aware of about leadership. We rebel when we are tired of bending to rules that we find obnoxious and outrageous. Be it parental control, religious fanaticism or political misdirection. Parents might be too strict but they actually have their reasons same goes with leaders too. However, these reasons might not be good. ...

  What do you want to write about? That's the first question you should ask yourself. Other questions include: who wants to read it? Will anyone love to read about this theme? Okay, I want to write two poems. One about 'stealing' and the other about 'water'.  The difference between the two theme is that 'stealing' has just one side to writing it while 'water' has two sides. Let me explain that. When you pick your theme, you do it as you do a debate motion. Do you want to support or oppose? Stealing is a vice so everyone wants to oppose it and that's why I stated that it has only one side to it. However, you can support or oppose water since water has advantages and disadvantages. Let's compare flood, storm, tempest with quenching of thirst, irrigation, washing of our things. So to write a poem on water, you can decide to focus on its merits or its demerits. Before I lead you into writing one of the two poems, let me list the things I'm g...

  Do I make you feel as a teetotaller feels when he takes a cup of beer? Does my sight warm your heart or hurts your eyes as gazing at the sun does? Does my touch feel like the raging sun on your skin or like rain on the same? Does my arms around you make you feel in a safe haven or does it make you feel surrounded by thistles fortified by summer? Do you at my presence feel like a caged bird or like a bird set free? How free do you feel? Is it like a bird set free with its feather to fly plucked? Does your smile as bright as the noon sun define how you feel with me or hide the same? Does your heart tingle or squirm? Does your heart scream to your lips to take mine in captivity or does it scream to your legs to take over? Do I do your precious life as stars do the sky or as feet do the river? Do I as water does fire or as good soil does root do you?