Tell me what I can do.
Tell me what I have done.
Tell me what I ought to do.
Tell me what I should have done.
Tell me.
It's not you, it's me.
I really don't know how to explain this
But I don't have the will to love you again.
It's not you, it's me.
You love too much and I cannot handle it.
You care too much and I can't accept it.
It's not you, it's me.
You want commitment but I am a traveller.
I want a love that is fleeting, you want forever and a day more.
It's not you, it's me.
I love you too but only for a while.
Nov 14, 2020
Nov 14, 2020 at 10:00 AM UTC
I saw the way she looked at you
And I waited to see how your eyes would reciprocate.
I stood afar off and watched your gaze move slowly,
From the slender hands that held the wine glass
To the blood red lipstick that smiled at you
To eyes that invited you to exotic worlds
And over the top of her exotic hair
Until it rested on the face of another.
Mine.
In a world of many distractions, your eyes choose to focus on me.
May 21, 2019
May 21, 2019 at 6:01 PM UTC
I love us.
I love how far we've come
I love what we share.
I love the future we look forward to
I love the way you look at me.
I love the way you hold my hands,
I love the laughter that begins from your stomach
And ends with a smile that lights up your eyes.
I love us.
But much more than these, I love you.
May 21, 2019
May 21, 2019 at 5:57 PM UTC
I started to write you a letter
Dear unborn baby.
But instead I wrote another
And mailed it to myself.
I realize I owe you a lot
A good name, daddy and life.
I realize I must prepare myself
Body, mind and spirit
If I am to do good by you.
So before your first cries fill the room
Or we gather to celebrate your arrival
Before the African celebrations begin
Or the Jollof rice is passed round
While I still have the chance to choose you a good good father
While I still have the chance to watch, Pray and work.
Let me write my to-do list.
And diligently tick each box as I await your arrival.
So when the nurses shout, "push!"
A woman helped of the Lord would welcome you
While a responsible man kneels by the bed whispering prayers.
And together they will provide, teach, love and instruct you.
May 30, 2017
May 30, 2017 at 9:38 AM UTC
She fell in love with the man we called husband
We were all part of her love story.
As she walked towards her future and
with watery eyes turned to wave us goodbye
we sealed her fate with cries of "don't worry."
"He's a good man and he'll take care
of you and the babies you will bear.
In five years time you will get used to
The rhythm and pressures of marriage.
Be like your friend, Ta Sallah...three children and counting."
She fell in love with a man she called husband.
Did she or we assumed, planned and gave our blessing
To what she considered a curse and prison.
They said they found him naked and unconscious
Hoping to consumate the union which he had bought.
The doctors wondered why his daughter was huddled in a corner
But the riddle was solved when she was named as one of the wives.
"He was biting me," she said in between sobs.
The poor thing wasn't even mature enough to understand foreplay.
She was not in love with the man we called husband.
He lies unconscious on a hospital bed while society ridicules her for her actions.
Now, he's the victim and she's the criminal.
He took her innocence yet all you see is a wicked woman.
There lies your mistake...
She is the infant bride of a bearded old man.
May 28, 2017
May 28, 2017 at 3:48 PM UTC
Can we go on a date somewhere
Where the setting sun kisses the horizon
And the colour orange remind us
Of a love rekindled like a blazing
Torch lit to lighten up darkened alleys.
Can we be friends and blank out Wi-Fi
Seek solace in a love platonic
And that is only allowed to grow
If the feeling is mutual?
Can you be you while I be me
As we gradually make room for "us"...
Nov 9, 2016
Nov 9, 2016 at 2:52 PM UTC
There is a place beyond logic
Where explanations are replaced
By soft looks, teasing smiles and shared pizza.
There is a place beyond explanations
Where words do not speak
And silent is effective.
And the whole world will stand still
When love finally had a face.
Nov 9, 2016
Nov 9, 2016 at 2:45 PM UTC
Some say love is red, others say it is blue
which ever one you choose, make sure you stick to her like glue.
Some say love is found, others say it finds you
but for every time you fall, you have to travel the road anew.
But love is colourless, love has no tribal marks.
Love knows not the English man or the African man.
Love sees no colour or ancestral roots.
Love only has a language and only hearts speak it.
Jul 11, 2016
Jul 11, 2016 at 6:43 PM UTC
Before I became a woman, life was just a collection of childish adventures
Playing "ten-ten" in the evening, oblivious to the chickens coming home to roost.
"Always" was just another word and the only cramps I experienced
were those that resulted from climbing too many trees.
Barry was just "the boy with the big head"
and Joseph was my "play-play" husband.
"Hide and seek" was not a game of hearts
and cartoons always had a moral lesson.
*** was an example of a "three letter word" and life was so simple without having to wear a bra.
Before I became a woman,
fathers were always the men and wives were always women.
Nobody confused those roles becaue
"Ali" was always the boy and "Simbi" was the girl
"Adam was to Eve" as pencil was to eraser.
Before I became a woman,
foolishness was not sold on TV because the truth was preached in black and white.
A ten year old was still her mother's baby not bride of bearded old man.
Children were going to be leaders of tomorrow,
"Twerk" was not an example of a verb
because Hannah Montana still had her clothes on.
The boys didn't stop to stare and tease because I was unripe for harvest.
Sunday school was about "How the fish ate Jonah"
and not about Salem my newest "crush."
Before I became a woman,
I wanted to marry a doctor, pilot, Jack Sparrow,
or the boy next door.
Then I grew up...
When I became a woman,
Life took on a new meaning
A collection of choices and decisions.
The boys didn't want to play no more and mama said I had to be lady.
Sally and Amina didn't want to talk anymore because puberty had reared its head
and boys were more interesting than our games of old.
When I became a woman,
I learnt about purpose and the ills of society
I stepped back and saw that little girl gradually fade away.
I did not try to run after her, her part in my life was over.
I watched her go with a mixture of pain and happiness
I stepped into my woman suit and made my own mistakes.
I cried my own tears and bandaged my own wounds
I knew now that life was only fair to those who never gave up.
Now lipsticks and mascara have replaced a lot of play things.
Now I am woman and I want to marry ambition, guts and a man who is not too proud to believe in God.
Now I am a woman but no child is still a leader.
Now I am a woman and I own my mistakes
Now I am a woman and I am not afraid to love, live or pray.
Now I am a woman but I have more than a figure eight.
Now I am a woman and I understand my mother better.
I pray for you young girl,
may you have the courage to wave childhood goodbye
when the sounds of womanhood begin to reach your ears
May you be brave enough to miss a game of hopscotch
so you can catch a train to destiny.
And when you are ripe for marriage
may you not look for a man that will validate your existence.
Put away childishness as you wait for that boy
that has become a MAN WHEN YOU BECOME A WOMAN.
#EchoesOfChildhood #PoemsForTheYoungMe #Womanhood #Love #Live #Play #MoveOn #Energie
Jul 9, 2016
Jul 9, 2016 at 7:43 PM UTC
It was the year the weevils came for the harvest.
The moon playing tricks on eyes eagerly awaiting its appearance.
The oily black sky desperately waiting to cry a river
and the year they came for her heart.
Don't cry, it would be alright.
The night is getting thick, the morning seem so far.
Don't cry, it would be okay
when the morning comes and the river of sorrow pour down your face no more.
Let the pain in your heart and the ice in your eyes.
let the crystal clear liquid bleed no more.
You will chase away those haunting demons
Then you will stop accepting handkerchiefs of dishonesty to wipe your tears.
You will write your own stories and sing the songs in your heart.
The crows and locusts will always come but the fields
will still choose to be green again.
Live, love, pray, be happy and do it all again.
The rains are coming...
For He causes the sun to rise upon both the evil and the good.
but just maybe this is all a part of His plan.
May the morning find you laughing...
Jul 9, 2016
Jul 9, 2016 at 7:34 PM UTC