From dawn’s first light in Kano’s skies,
A dream took shape with hopeful eyes.
At New Girls Science School she came,
To chase her light, to build her name.

Through books and labs and classroom days,
She walked the path of learning’s blaze.
With every test, with every try,
She reached for stars, and soared so high.

Beneath the veil of grace she wore,
A brilliant mind the world should know more.
Equations, atoms, planets wide —
No boundary held her voice inside.

From Bunsen flames to science fairs,
She stood with courage, dreams, and prayers.
She proved that girls with minds so bright
Can rise like dawn and spread their light.

Oh Sadiya, today you stand,
With strength and wisdom in your hand.
Your journey here has just begun,
A scholar, daughter, rising sun.

So step ahead, walk through the gate,
The world awaits — go captivate.
Your voice, your thoughts, your radiant glow,
Will make a greener future grow.

New Girls Science will proudly say:
“She walked our halls, she shined our way.”
And as you leave this cherished place,
May life reflect your heart and grace.

In the heart of the woods where the wild thyme grows,
Where the hush of the dusk through the pine needles flows,
There lives a soft creature with ink on his paw,
Who scribbles the silence in awe upon awe.

He doesn’t much speak, but he listens so well —
To the drip of the rain and the hush of a shell.
He writes on old leaves with a bark-chewed quill,
And the stillness around him grows softer still.

He hums to the foxglove, he sings to the stream,
He murmurs a stanza right into a dream.
No stage, no applause, no bright city light —
Just a cave full of verses and firefly night.

And though no one sees him, and few even care,
The world feels more whole with the Poetry Bear.
For he gathers the quiet, the kind, and the true —
And turns it to poems for me and for you.

Peaceful vibrations
It has only just begun.

A Trumpet blown on Trump
Westerners refused to dance.
So the tie-losing diplomacy.
Between Trump and Trumpet.

On this September’s radiant stage,
We lift our voices, turn the page.
A pose once lost, now boldly found—
A silent stance that shakes the ground.

Arms outstretched or subtly bent,
Each motion charged with deep intent.
Not just a meme, but layered art,
A language born to shake the heart.

It started as a fleeting frame,
A joke, a laugh, an echo’s name—
But soon it grew beyond its source,
A symbol of a rising force.

We strike the Memz, we freeze, we stand—
Not random now, but bold and planned.
A protest, prayer, a burst of grace,
The Memz Pose holds a thousand face(s).

In city squares and quiet rooms,
In golden light or twilight gloom,
We Memz for truth, we Memz for play,
We Memz to mark this solemn day.

So pause with purpose, tilt your chin,
Let irony and truth begin.
For in this pose, we all align—
A meme, a message, a shared design.

A heavy cloud.
Thundering aloud
And weapons stroud.
Because of satanic proud.

Children are crying out loud.
For their family no longer in croud.
And starvation spreads like a boud.
Every day, their bodies sleep on a shroud.

In the morning bright.
My heart takes flight.
And I feel so tight.
To lift up with might.