Dropped an opportunity
It shattered against my concrete reality
It wasn’t my fault- it just slipped
The wind took it
God whispered a fire, and my hands were lit
Either way
I lost this
A fragment of my dreams
The golden prospect
The road to my future- cleaned, clear, and preened
Yet
Hope is glass
And to my dismay
It falls quite fast
it cracks
Before you can blink.

Here I wait resting on the door jamb
standing betwixt and between
shall I stay here or drop my hand,
move beyond what I’ve known and seen?
What will be out there to my left and right
where will the next step take me from here?
They said danger is there out of my sight -
threats, jinxes, and disease if that step I dare.

But if I move back into the shady cool
I’ll be safe in this cozy inner space.
Being in between without old rules
not knowing the beyond I’ll face
is scary but this is a journey of revelation
even if sacrifice and loss is in this race
I trust I will find peace and inspiration.

Allow for time to contemplate
choices made in state
Singularity holds a fee
an opportunity cost
Another thought is lost
from the moment we awake
Energy ingested
decisions we are blessed with
Short term gains
instill a greater weight
Communicative building blocks
can help us through today
Think about your space
and the product you create

a fog of uncertainty
or mist of opportunity

discouragement of the fearful
passion of the pathfinders

boredom of the erudite
opportunity of the ready

despair of the overcome
pride of the calm conqueror

crumbling of the thoughtless
savvy of the thinker

rebellion of restless seas
wisdom of the calmer waters

coarseness of the unmodified rocks
refinement of a rare diamond sage

repeating dirge of the pessimists
excitement of the optimists

shock of the confronted
pragmatism of the realists

dissatisfaction of the takers
fulfillment's flame in the givers

empty shell of the ever selfish
and balm of those who

to the bewildered
smile kindness

massacring a lindt bunny into pieces with a rolling pin 
and passing
him
around

frying black peppercorns - laura's cooking
and embers
still glowing 
in the morning

grandparents, grandchildren
buckets and buckets and buckets of tadpoles and 
cold, cold
pillows

all actors in my saga of 
drunken webs and 
400 year old
trees

like an unfurling fern taking heed of its surroundings

guarded but bold
a cracking egg
an old person driving a mobility scooter on a 
busy road

settling into ways
slowly growing wings

each hour of each day and each day of 
each week

i'm
inching. 
forward.

creeping,
grasping,
reaching,
towar­d that new beginning

for i am convinced
that in this here and now

there is

NO 
place.

for the end.

It's a big mistake staring at the ticking clock waiting for an opportunity to knock. Nothing's going to fall at your door. So find something worth fighting for. When you realize success in life is not defined by your wealth, you can begin the journey toward the pursuit of happiness that will ultimately better your health. On this journey, there may be times when your heart may break and the pain may feel like it's too much to take. But if you can find the strength to carry on, you'll find the things you can do will be remembered long after you're gone

There's an east facing room,
in a west facing house.
Its curtains don’t open
till the middle of the day.
By then the sun has gone,
taken its rays high above
where they can’t reach the east facing room
and only get further and further away
with each hour of the day.

But at sunset,
when the west faces of buildings
soak up their long awaited sunlight,
the sinking sun is reflected
off a neighboring window,
shining a brilliant orange spotlight
into the east facing room
in the west facing house.

The society rejected them.
They were ejected from their homes.

Disjointed hands.
Broken legs.
Pitiful faces.
Mournful silence ...
They cried and felt like crying again.
They cried again.
They yawned and felt like yawning again.
They yawned again.

They are the homeless children you are seeing here and there.
They are the hopeless old men and women you are seeing in the mornings and in the evenings.

No one cares to give them a chance to emerge on the surfaces of the earth and win more wins.

They are those beggars and street-boys.
They were long time ago mercilessly molested by the tryrans and their allies.

Today and tomorrow,
And the days, and the years, after tomorrow:
Let them find some places to rest.
Give them a place in your heart to find solace.

They have no sugar.
And they don't seem to have tasted its sweetness.

To drink tea,
They use a handful of their tears.
In lieu of a comb,
They use twigs.

They have no perfumed clothes.
Theirs are torn shirts and hats fumed by the vapour of a cooking ***.

To watch a movie,
They use a mirror.
Through it,
They see nothing than their faces.
They say mirror is their television.

The poignancy of poesy shaped their potentials.
Under the influence of the Poet, a plume spoke:

'I dream of a society where the less privileged ones will enjoy freedom and financial independence.'

With the above in mind, the less privileged ones would be considered as an integral part of the world.

They are capable yet they can do zellions of amazing things.
Give them chances to thrive.

Their yesterdays saw them famished.
They were once hopeless.
God blessed them.
Smiles of courage and hope illuminated their faces.
They were once neglected as well as segregated.
They need to be encouraged and supported.

On their education enough money should be invested.
To enable them learn skills and acquire sound knowledge needed for self-development and progress across the globe.

Adamu Danjuma

Opening the door,
Even just once,
Unlocks the possibility
Of a second occurrence.
Some doors are better
Left to be unleft ajar.