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.

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®

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.

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

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

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

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

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.

Amanda Gorman

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!!!

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!

(Dedicated to the late Prof Chinua Achebe)


Mountain ranges in the east wind,
Like wet dew on a grass.
Amid soggy tears,
Enthusiasm denies us.

Squeal of gongs and drums
Sound throughout the land,
North and South:
Poignant blood runs through our veins.

Indeed, things have fallen apart...
Spring thunder -The Iroko has fallen!
Albert Chinualumogu Achebe.

You it was who issued the great call
For us to rebel against despotic rule.
A glittering colossus among literati,
With an esoteric mastery of proverbial dictions.

The literary luminary and patriot,
It's the very best we have had.
Storms of the societal reformation
have brought a flowering of heroes on the land.

In the wind and thunder of cultural revolution,
The rising sun casts a myriad reflections.
Achebe's thought glows golden bright,
Struggle-criticism-transformation;
flowering everywhere.

Though the dogged messenger has become silent,
The candid message-wave still dance in my ear,
I wipe warm tears from my eyes,
And press my hand to my throbbing heart,
Keeping the peerless books in my *****.

Oh yes! Achebe was here,
And we felt his magical pen.
Adieu! Great Iroko of our land.

© A. O. Nwulia Literary Diary 2013

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

I was once
a bamboo tree,
bending over for
everyone to climb,
dancing in the
wind by the
moonlight.
Listening to the
flute and the
songs of the birds.
I am the
feed of the
animals,
I took in
their farts smelling
all around me.
Now am taller
and stronger.
I was once
a young iroko tree,
standing tall with
dignity and pride.
I am matured,
and become like an
umbrella for shade.
My presence alludes
strength.
But now i am
the sacred dwarf iroko,
the mysterious
anunuebe tree of
which no one
or any living thing
is allowed to
come near or
approach or fly over
without serious
consequences.
No one can
climb me,
it is not allowed.
The once loved
is now the abhorred,
revered and respected.
I'm no longer
bending over
for anyone and
will not allow
anyone to climb
all over me.
You must approach
with respect to
be allowed entrance.
This is my
natural stance.
©2019,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.

Like a prophet in a trance
I saw the gathering of black snakes,
Among them is a giant black snake
Whose size and nature
Falls on the retina of every eyes,
Like an Iroko tree
In the mist of other trees.
He is a strong and proud creature
Like the Barbary Lion,
As the king of his region,
He stays on the greener pasture.

But as I look closer
My eyes began to see my ears,
And my tongue touches my nose;
For the other black snakes
Were like the seven thin cows
In Pharaoh's dream;
They were eating better
Walking faster,
And getting greater
Than the giant black snake.

Then I look even closer
As confusion and curiosity
Beats the drums of my heart,
I gradually found my foot
On the ground of reality
As I realize that,
The giant black snake
Has thirty six heads
And thirty six tails
With one body.

Different heads
With different tongues,
Different tongues with different tastes
So they move in different directions
In search of different foods
To quench their different tastes.
As to this different goals
They fight themselves
Only those whose tongues share same taste
Walks in the same direction.

While the body preaches
Unity and faith,
Peace and progress
The different heads preaches
Tribalism and division,
Inequality and oppression-
This has given birth to
The crocodile smile and
The python dance in
The heart of the giant black snake.

Waking up from my trance,
I realize the giant black snake
Can be a GREAT giant black snake
And see beyond his limit
Like a soaring eagle
Only if, the whole thirty six heads
Walks in the same direction
Despite their different tongues
For their is strength in UNITY
The ant can explain better.
..........The end.......

Slumbering all night
On the cradle of comfort.
Mixing the oil of night
With the wax of sleep.
Conjuring the day to night.

Protruding womb of the day
Howling for the birth of light
Unfolding the mantle of darkness

Awake from timing slumbering.
Awake from caging nightmare,
Awake from the deadening
      slumbering
Awake now Ma'am Jonah.

Conquering gnome of darkness
Standing beneath the shades of
      the iroko tree.
Poachers of darkness hunting
      for the river's manna.
Mauraders of darkness peeping
      through the lintel of trials.

Awake from sluggish slumbering
Awake afresh into the newness of
      dawn.
Awake Ma'am Jonah.

You came, saw and conquered
I'll tell your story to the world
One of our greatest Ambassador
How did you even survive?
While putting Nigeria on the world map?
This is the story the Ajala, The Globetrotter

Life in itself is a journey
At one time in our soujourn
We have been caught by your bug
I'm sorry if you are of the indomie generation
We all, at some point have cauht it
The Ajalabug, amplied by Chief Commander Ebenezer Obey

Mashood Olabisi Ajala
Rest well with your ancestors
We have not stopped our "Ajala"
That makes you larger than life
Evergreen in our mind and soul
But "Sha", you can pedal for Africa
40 countries, 9 months, 30,000 miles
Give it up to a man of the people

In your soujourn you met principalities and powers
Men and women of timber and iroko
Penned great memoirs first hand
You browsed different inter-continental softwares
And deposited droplets of yourself
And insignia of a world citizen
Then landed "White Witch Doctor" by Fox
All, for the love of Ajala

Did you actually meant to end it
When you mounted that 80 footed mast?
Faraway in God's own country
Or was it just a ruse; "a lamber?"
Thank God you were deported to England
Not to your nation, so rich, so poor
That you may continue your escapades
And your name linger forever

As a man of ink and paper
You inspired my generation
Hence I wanted to appreciate you specially
Your feat, none in this generation has surpassed
Lest they gas out before they start out
You were even imprisoned
In faraway whiteman's land
But it never supressed your zest
Today and forever, "Ajala still travels all over the world"
Wait, aren't we all "Ajala?"

°Common sense please help me
Law my days
[Ōrīēnte Înçānte Wînd whispering].
The discourse of Isè & Ämen
Seth a cain
& a bell clock
a spehrical compass
a balance scale
for a frequency sequential key care
to eternal everlasting forever °smile.


Listen to the seed
that turn into a firm root
the Iroko tree advise,
how you dress your death bed
is how you lay on it.

Aviod err & mistake
If you must sow ³cord
as talent on a good soil

I swam the tough sea of desire & intention
I seek no shore as the dead of the night
I'm Èl---

Thought business 101
Out of the eater came something to eat,
and out of the strong
came something sweet.

Yes, eat honey 🍯for it is sweet
eat honey, my child, for it is good;
honey from the comb is sweet to your taste,
also know that groomed wisdom
is sweet to your body
Star-dustedly.

if you find it,
there is a future hope for you,
and your hope will not be cut off
Guathama
Go darkness
bright Ideas sleep like an angel low.

The Seed data;

• CourtParadise+OccultNubian
°Læd³ Dâ Hū
{³Hàír-Īfé-Bell-Åî
Hella'Hadeẞ Of UrBabylon
HâmKemetic-Kush'Sheol}
ETERNAL EVERLASTING FOREVER ÍFÌNĪTY ³COOL LIVING °SMIL3•


Ifé-6ix electro-mechaniced
voodoo stream Arreal {my children}

When the two rivers meet
they'll mate
the river  "errand & homly"
of ancient & modern
and then you'll be satisfied fulfilled
eternally everlasting forever smile living flow•

Deep in my heart
Far from my body
Filtering my thoughts
Moulding some in steel
For they  shall be my word

Deep in my heart
Far from my body
Selecting my words
Putting them to gear
For they shall be my action

Deep in my heart
Far from my body
Seeving my actions
Refining some to gold
For they shall be my habit

Deep in my heart
Far from my body
Re-accessing my habits
Making sure they float
For they shall be my values

Deep in my heart
Far from my body
Shining light on my values
Making sure they sparkle
For they shall be my destiny

From the seed
To the watering
To the manuring
To the iroko tree
We all must seek it

Right parts
Right paths
Right passage
Right perception
For mankind to be better.

The mountain top
is wrapped in mist,
so cloudy that
i can't see.
Right there,
there is dense
fog dripping water,
out of nowhere.
Whenever my
heart hurts,
my head aches,
my soul mourns
and cries out in
sobs and groans.
Moaning softly like
a child whose
fingers were smashed,
all the body aches.
My eyes cries too,
my face suffers
with salty tears
dropping down to
my mouth,
even as it
drools with saliva,
my nose dripping
with slimy stuff
to warn of
how much
i hurt inside.
My heart misses you,
I miss you.
Close your eyes
so that your soul
can see through
the heart to
know how much
you mean to me.
Even in daylight
the heart can
still be surrounded
by darkness as
it is broken.
But you can
now know that
even the fallen
leaves are the
most beautiful,
they will always
blend in synergy
with the sand to
form the manure
for yet another
beautiful beginning
to sprout a seed
for the growth
of every plant
that gradually grows
into an Iroko tree.
©2019,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.

Listen, the world is muffled
My legs, numb with cold
Grief, anger envelops us
So, it is sadly true
We all know our date of birth
No one knows their date of death
How do you say "Goodnight"
When morning dawns
The world is still in jolted

Why, death why?
Why do bad things happen to the good
And good things happen to the bad
Someone please tell me why?
You have touched our soul
With so many moves
Written your name in our hearts
The basketball world tears for you and yours

My sockets, teary
My face, blurry
My life, you were my coach
You mentored me from afar
I share your drive and enthusiasm
And that it took Gianna
What a tragedy
A loss to the world

If you lived in Africa
We would ask questions
Who felled our Iroko tree?
Who set your sun at noonday?
Who was afraid of your shine?
We would have invoked our gods
But we can't ask questions
God knoweth...

Death surely comes
The only ineluctable enemy of humans
It will come when it will come
Prepare your house, write a will
Live a day at a time
It seems far, yet close
Start living, stop surviving
Start building legacies, not wealth

With 8 all-star selections,
An MVP award with 33,643 points
Already, you made 20 seasons
Inspired our generation
Your stardom cuts accross galaxies
I just want to look into the sky
The abode of our forefathers
And see you shine down on us

There are no words to express my pain
You are a legend
You live forever in our hearts Black Mamba
Gianna, the road stops here
Heaven is a continuance
We will remember you forever
Goodnight Kobe...Good night Gianna!

Babatunde Raimi
Author/Life Coach/Poet
08178827380 & 08035063895

Many a'night I've groaned like a wounded
Lion scaring my own shadow and
Left myself boneheaded
against the wall I dragged my feet
In ruins that wedded my grief,

Then I turned around;
could that be you soul brother Holding?
the rope so tight beneath my chin against this iroko's root,
My blood bleeding with tears,
I screamed but only my soul heard me.

But then came me that broke the shackles,
I redeemed my being!
The droplets upon my eyelids now taught me;
You were just a DREAM!

Are We Family ?

Yes, we are family,
but I don’t feel included.
I was never part of those memories—
just standing there like an iroko tree.
But even an iroko tree gets noticed, admired…
maybe I am invisible.

Yes, we are family.
Why do I yearn to be among?
Why did you include me
when you never intended
to make me feel like I belonged?

My wound is deep as an anthill.
I stare. I crave. I taste.
Yet still, I’m never quite perfect enough
to be added.

Now I feel empty—
this fear with no reason,
these unstable emotions.
I’ve cried, but there’s nothing left to shed.

I wished for a happy family,
but I was given out.
I was myself—
you called it pretense.
I tried to act how you wanted—
you called it my real self.
I smirked.
Nothing could please you.

I came, invited,
to this new family…
but are we family?

I feel used—
just because you helped me.
Voicing out is meaningless.
My ideas don’t count.
You see me as dull, not smart,
never knowing me at all.

But I am strong.
Strong enough not to give up.
Strong enough to hope.

A hope to be isolated.
A hope to rebuild myself.
A hope to be spiritually enlightened.
A hope to be happy.

Have you ever felt this?
It’s painful—
like salt poured on a wound.
Have you ever stood among
a family you craved,
yet asked, trembling:
Are we family?

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 shall hide from 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, his voice sharp as fangs
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 torrents
and their sobs burned 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