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thinklef Oct 2013
Nothing feels good than having an angel by your side,
Someone who knows all your flaws & doesn't quote the law,
Someone who you can be awkward with &
Would smile & won't say a word,
I have searched all around the world for that special one,
Up over the foothills & beneath the mountains,
Truly they don't exist,
These girls come & go like cargos,
After building the relationship so tall like iroko,
Sometimes, i sit, i stare, i glance at this girls and wonder,
What do they really want,
They say taste varies,
Some dream of tall guys,
Who smell nice & doesn't tell lies,
Guys with abs,some go for guys with mba,
While few go for guys with integrity,
i call this mental confusion,
i love to be affectionate,
despite this emotional challenges,
But I have no one to share it with,
i have trusted so many,
Even when your voices are ringing sonorously in my mind,
i will forever remain a loner,
Truly not everyone is worth the stress,
Shoulders raised high been so unnecessarily sensitive,
Penning these long lines isn't even worth it,
I'm done writing about love,
It's time to face reality.
Witch From Iroko Tree.

You're a witch, I am mere an image, spellbound by your beautiful magical eyes, I'm trapped in your hut, with your broom, you brought me here, you witch from Iroko tree

I'm held captive in the beauty of your mystical spell, lost in the spells of your charm, my spirit I am unable to find, my soul at lost, you've hanged them in the rain forrest, you witch from Iroko tree

Under the cursed, I am on your mystical power, wandering in the depths of the darkness under the moon, you've clothed me with your spirit, tying me with the spider's Webb, you witch from Iroko tree

Entangled is my fate, in the strings of your destiny, you're the healer of my thoughts, saving me from my agony, you make me laid by you night and day, you witch from Iroko tree

You've bewitched my heart, from the spells you cast, caged in the colours of your cloth, I'm punished by my past, I beg you, let me be free, take your spell of my soul, you beautiful witch without a soul, you witch from Iroko tree

Enchanted by you, I'm the one reviled by all, I can see through your magical masks, you're drowning in your forest rainfall, free me from your magical spell, you witch from Iroko tree.

Ameen Olorunnimbe© 29.11.2018 Copyrights Reserve®
This is an African spiritual poem!
With rapture on and on I played
Hoping to cease if the stars'd fade
Strong, smart as my father's son
Sure! I was not a fiddler for fun

At twilight out of my house I crept
Each instance was a promise kept
To your ears under Iroko I'd croon
And our third party was the moon

As I inhaled the lines turn by turn
I knew our love was born to burn
At home they lived in my blue box
Hard to break like igneous rocks

Now the box has priceless value
For saving the love for me and you
Now my lines find a safe avenue
To embrace integrity and virtue

Then I sang for you with my violin
Now I hold it more under my chin
I am like the box or the loyal bird
Each time i try to keep my word
A story of trust between two people using the box and the Pigeon (loyal bird) as symbolism. #Fidelity
Nigeria, a Dying country,
Her kinsmen will gather in war to share her sweat
More troubles for the unborn and her growing heirs,
The unfolding dread non-soldiers at heart like me.

Nigeria, she spring forth from the dark soil
Her past never stop to echoe, her Iroko turned void
Blessed with milk, honey and seeds with hearts fixed to the creator,
The sword bearer of coal  war-ful gladiators.

A vineyard in the days of her reckoning
A different story after her great hair home coming.
Tale of a true black race
And the  down laying of her good moral ways.

Just like how a river side tree dries,
So does her firewood also cries.
Her genuine red caps are nowhere to be found
Her wind, her seed will have to make do with the feeble dust in character around.

Shaking is her government seat on the rock
Still steady is her opposition in their secret walls.
They keep killing her vision in disguise of trying to unlock
While they battle to pluck away all her roses.
The voiceless murmur and watch,
Her pocket papers fly and run
While a once great country keep dying on.
Her skin shines like a newly smoked earthenware
Beauty glows on her like the colourful scarlet
Of a newly married hindi woman
And her perfection; so refreshing as the early morning rising sun.

She is a lady;
Yes! A lady of class
Full of Glamour like the glitz awards
The African night sky with her stars of hope are nothing
Compared to the grace that adorns her.

Her smile lights up my world
Love; her greatest charm
Smile, her sweetest perfume
Her words are more soul touching than the hard-bop tone of
Lee morgan's side-winder

She is a woman ; An African woman , the best of women
The sound of her name sends chilled thrills down my spine like
Water from a fountain quenches thirst in spring.

Nhammie as i passionately call her,
So have i missed every single minute that flew past when we are not together
I stand tall like the great iroko tree amongst great trees to mention her name;
Nana Ama!!!
Yes! Nana Ama
She is a woman
An African woman of substance and of Great virtue.
i miss you nhammie... you are my bestfriend and nothing or no one will ever change that...  #besties4ever
Valentine Mbagu Oct 2014
Behold Nigeria my motherland
A land that sits upon the hills of many waters
A country built on the ancient landmark of heroes band
An Eagle that protects her citizens in the arms of her feathers.

A beautiful Nigeria whose fields are as green as green could ever be
An Iroko that stands on the root of peace and unity
A fertile land that is as fertile as fertility can ever be
A united people, a proud nation void of segregation nor discrimination in her city.

My motherland a land that upholds the staff of dignity and natural endowment
A land of unity and peace glowing like a river of gold across the horizon
A nation that feeds on the diet of heavens supplement
An ocean that runs through the test of raging storms un-torn.

My motherland! My motherland!
A Nigeria that adores her women more highly than the Queen of England
An Olive that yields more than the cedars of Lebanon
A land whose daughters are as beautiful as the daughters of Job in Jerusalem's land
An independent country as powerful as the King Nebuchadnezar of Babylon.

It's Nigeria my motherland
A land that rests on the pillars of her freedom
A country seated on the pearls and treasures of many Ireland
A Nigeria that lives on the soil of heavens wisdom.
I was a young maiden when I had you.
At first,
It was just a flash.
Oh heavens!!!
Such a purity.
Your beauty was such that slapped the strongest of men,
Your depth humbled the most arrogant of them I ever met.
When you stayed,
All wondered.
Never let anyone away without a laughter.
Your shadow I saw my lips stuttered.

The days decided to be two decades through the night,
Yet I held you as a treasure through the flight.
Too precious to be drowned in my mind,
Now tells me why your crown was taken to a hive.
You may not know how firm I stood with bows and knife.
I took down one I thought was a foe.
The blood that day from there still flows,
Then I knew you bowed and left your might.

Four score five today.
I still wish,
Wish that that Iroko in the centre of Igbo Olodumare still stood.
But alas!!
The low in wisdom conspired,
And cut down the most admired.
Oh, my dear
My world
My TAMAYA!!!
To what extent can a mother mourn her child,Her treasure of great value,Her world and dreams come true?
And you can only imagine from the sound of her soul.
Safana May 2020
A pen a pen my little pen
Slowly, I took a little pen
To write a poem with a pen
A poem, to beautify my pen
It’s a bonafide my little pen

A bar-like, my woody pen
A new, and passion my pen
It’s a grey-hued and little pen
And, it has a green bark a pen
Quite soft to touch my only pen

It’s a sharpen, my little pen
An iroko wood made my pen
A yellow part covered a pen
It’s a red, strike on my pen
With a black, strike my pen

Its look like a bow my pen
To write a bit with my pen
Supple to draw on, my pen
Can be use as dotting pen
Enclosed no ink in my pen

A bit looks like my little pen
To write, like my little pen
To sketch well, like my pen
To beautify, like a baby pen
Not like my handsome pen
A pen, is a little pen
Ayinke mi, eleyinju aro
Your arms comforts me... like ēka iroko
your eyes... so colourful like rainbow light
and your cuticle smiles.... gives ah heavenly sight

Nibo lo wa, Ayinke mi owon
Omo to rewa ti o la 'bawon
Our heart has been intertwine to one
So living alone suffocates my lungs

What else could I have hoped
Luxuries and gold, don't want none of that
The doctor said I've been diagnosed
And ife re nikan lo le mu mi lara da

Ayinke mi, igbawo lo' made
If you want me to, I'll forever wait
Cos you're worth more than okuta iyebiye
I'll spend all I have.... mi o ko iyekiye
To make my heart' the home you forever stay
Victoria Nojang Jan 2015
A Tribute to Nelson Madiba Mandela

A great hero once born is gone,
His legacy shall indeed prolong
All African leaders acclaim him as a hero,
He is a son of the roots, the African sun
Oh hear his heroic voice, our Idol

Oh let's scream his name, Mandela!
Oh hail the great Iroko, Madiba!
For freedom, did he fight?
He the age old lantern, source of light
His words' a symphony to our delight

Oh you awakening spirit of Africa,
Your voice heard in the Himalaya
Your memories forever in our hearts,
Your legacy remains till we part,
Oh the fighter still fights!

Madiba shall you rise again?
Shall the fighter fight again?
Oh so selfless a heart of love,
He's reached the heavens above
On earth we build him a grove

Oh this tribute We give to you,
Though the sun no longer shines on you,
In our hearts you remain engraved
From dawn to dusk, on your grave,
Shall birds sing of glory, it's true

Oh Mandela, Madiba, we miss you father
For freedom's sake, you did not surrender
Your seeds shall forever bloom,
In heaven the brides await their groom,
Your laughter did erase our gloom
I hope the readers enjoy this piece
Leonard Akwo Aug 2013
My dear, do you want to know
why this stream shall never cease to flow
why this countenance shall know no smile
why in vain you realease torent of bile
for eternity shall my face tarry behind the sun
and ever shall be till this ugly scenario run
cut off from every string joint to my mind
to recall no more that gruesome day
Limbeh turned a cadavar awaiting decay
how my heart tremble while my tongue relates
the incident that turned an early widow late
the night before, cried a owl across at nightfall
grandpa beheld and discerned the mysterious call
tapped he my shoulder and opened his phangs
look beyond the pregnant night in labour pangs
waiting to birth a child as mysterious as the cry
Ekumbo! May i live not to witness that melancholic night(he sighed)
a thing unheard of in Aweh beyond countless centuries
worth plunging a kingdom into an endless misery
frightened, departed me with my ribs to my cradle to fall
holdin his words to await he upon whom the lot shall fall
so as the pregnant night did flipped
departed then this poor widow to her field
to gather bread for her fatherless kids
then in agony their lips they bit
as their eyes rained in torrent
and their sobs grew even fervent
when the fatal tiding was unleashed
a thing which feared hearts and andrenaline released
how she bent beneath a dry iroko gathering yam
in her distant and lonely farm
a branch uphigh cracked
turned she to see the source of the crack
behold a log fell on her skull
pouring out what was left of her brain- all
keeling rightward, she fell as her spirit transcended a plane beyond
a place so gray, so blund
now poor orphans, as poppies to be shared
departed they to various kins to be rared
and daily this dirge about her goes
as villagers their drum beat and lyre blow
forget not the story of the unfortunate widow
who for the door, took the window
and drank not from the spring of old age
nor for her maternal labour achieved a wage
A true life story a widow who died in such a pathetic way. The story of that incident shall ever be told through countless generations.
Drunk poet Jul 2016
Loneliness is my companion,
Silence has been an inspiration,
So I sat under that iroko tree,
Me, myself and I making us three!
Devil talks and angels whispers,
I traveled when I vibe,
Oracles murmur, ascenstors watch,
To my beloved Lucy, a woman I believe
To be rare!
The wind blows from my head to the east,
I see beyond Albert  telescope,
But too afraid to write,
Cause I lost my light!
I lost the grip of my pen!
The talks, murmurs and whispers override
My heart and hand! heart,
I became clueless,
I lost my consciousness!
Heliza Rose Sep 2016
Don't be like the Plantain tree
That rips it's leaves as though it has had a violent lover
Be like the Iroko tree
Tall and intimidating
As people sweat at its splendor
May they sweat at yours
TWOAAC

— The End —