Medleyed Thoughts

“Medleyed Thoughts” is a prosaic poem written by my very own Mayowa Providence Rotimi. In this beautiful piece, she lets us in on one of the things she values most – family – and yes, family is beautiful, family is everything. Never despise family. Enjoy.

Medleyed Thoughts

As I lay me down to sleep
Medleyed thoughts course through my mind
Sleep is golden, yet it’s scarce
Why does simple get complex?

A home, you had, not perfect, yes
Its members, too, far from being saints
But they stuck through thick and thin
Your battles you’d not fight alone

You spurned their love, affection too,
And “voice” of strangers listened to
You left the ones that loved you most
Your home, your only home, forsook

The strangers – were they kind to you?
Did they justly recompense you
For what you lost, that matters most?
Tell me dear one, I itch to know

Who loves you, keeps you, fights for you?
Who soothes your pain and heals your wounds?
These are the questions on my mind
Each night I lay me down to sleep

The Pilgrim… Yemie

This is the final guest post on my 1st blogging anniversary list of poems. I saved it for the last because I know many can identify with the sentiments here and might get some encouragement here too. And guess what? This was written by Yemie (who still hasn’t convinced me why she shouldn’t take poetry more seriously).☺

Thanks girl for who you are – a big support and source of encouragement. With all the positive energy radiating from you, no ”negative ion” stands a chance.

Dear friends, I present to you again, Yemie!

Winning Wayfarer

I am strong
Am I?
I may well be wrong
Aren’t I?

With fear a constant companion
A strange bedfellow
How do I emerge a champion?
I wonder, I bellow

I am a mere mortal
Conflicted, unsure
Crouched at Earth’s portal
A fish, washed ashore

Will I get through the journey ahead?
My feet will not move, not even a step
I need to be held and led
Yellow-bellied, and in desperate need of help

‘Let the chips fall where they may
Your inner fear, keep at bay
Go at it hammer and tongs, as you journey along the way’
A little voice in my head did say

Waves of emotions surge
Anger, courage and hope merge
A fire is stirred and it glowers
I rise, free from all encumbrances

My strides are sure and purposeful
My soul rejoices, melodies from my heart ring
I am bursting forth with vitality, joyful
As I make my way onwards, soaring upon Eagle’s wings

I yell out in victory
No longer will I whimper in entreaty
I bask in my moment of glory
A wayfarer, adrift upon life’s trajectory

Foreign Country….by Kathryn Owen

The past is a foreign country
No boundaries
Except my own limitations
No passport required
Adventures take me to places
Of delights and darkness
Each night I travel
To yet another country

The future was just a dream
Of existence
Travelling distances
Of time and space
People I meet along the way
Some just pass by
Others stay a while and walk
With me, sharing my time there

Some sadly depart,
Our souls entwined
For but a moment, 
Lingering, living, laughing,
Until the time comes to depart,
The last kiss, 
The last touch,
The last smile.

I hope our paths will cross
Again in the future.
Postcard memories I hold
Within my heart, 
At times I take them out
And ponder them,
I can never go back
To those foreign lands,

Some best forgotten,
Best left behind,
Always moving forward,
Never back
I’m a foreigner speaking a language
Of emotion and sentiment, 
Of pain and anguish, 
Of desires and disappointments.

Have I seen you along the way?
Have I yet to meet you?
Are you here with me now?
Walk with me, let’s chat a while
And share postcards,
Stay with me
And let’s travel together
In this foreign country of ours.

Small Saves The Day… Dr. Ezechinyere Ekpo (aka Dr. Swag)

Life is beautiful, don’t we all agree?  And no, it’s not because of the big stuff. Oftentimes, it is the small things in life that make the big difference – a warm smile, a pat on the shoulders, a kind word or deed…

Sometimes, it is the act of a small child that saves the day, in a way that older ones will not be able to grasp.

The poem below, written by Dr. Ezechinyere Ekpo, also known as Dr. Swag, stresses this fact in a masterful way. If you know Dr. Swag, you’ll be able to see his characteristic signature in this spectacular telling. Messieurs, mesdames, presenting Dr. Swag!

Small Saves The Day

A mammoth riddle loomed before clueless citizens
Of such mighty proportions none could solve
Experts and specialists could not resolve
This Goliath of a conundrum the best could not best
The colossal challenge was such a bother
That it made everyone shudder
The dread of it gave a fever
Made even the president shiver

There was no hope
Men could only mope
Before this giant who could cope?
All answers ended with a nope
Then came up a runt, a tiny tot
“What can he do?” they thought
Of his sling and stone they mocked
But heroic acts dare not be docked!

Into his business did they poke
Taunted they, this dude is a joke!
He did not stand a chance
And must be wakened from his trance
Nothing more was he than a kid
How could he of a gargantuan dilemma rid?
But it was smallness that saved the day
A lad, a sling and a stone

Immortal….by Iheanyi Idimogu

Immortality is one subject I don’t like to discuss because people understand it differently.

However, I’m certain, that that moment when the one person who is the princess/prince of your dreams first smiles at you and introduces themselves to you – that moment is truly unforgettable. 😇😍💖💗

This is captured in today’s poem by my friend Iheanyi Idimogu.

Iheanyi is a Lagos – based lawyer. He loves to write. I’m seeing here, too, that he’s quite the incurable romantic. ☺


When the last page is done
and the great Book closed
men shall sigh and recount histories
Kings that held the breath of men
and queens who sauntered in beauty
of artistes that immortalized lives
and viziers swaying between the lines of genius and madness
Somewhere without the gild of these marbles
a line or none may tell of you
and another or none for me
But cast in purest beauty
is the hour you smiled at me
and told me who you were

The Outsider Inside

My guest for today is Sandra Oyeku. Sandra resides in Australia, where she is a teacher. She is highly skilled in working with children, something she has been doing for almost a decade.

Sandra is fascinated by the saintliness of a child’s mind yet acknowledges that this innocence doesn’t remain for long, as life quickly starts to teach, to write….and the reality is very different.

I find this piece to be a mixture of the child’s fantasies and the rude reality, which many of us can identify with.


The Outsider Inside

“Tabula rasa!”
Many would utter
At birth – the way the mind is –
A clean slate with no shades

But these blue skies with no greys
Looking down on pastures –
Dying wilting pastures
Ration what I have to feed on

They gently sap the life in me
Because I – I am right in their midst.
I’m no coward, yet I cower
How long will this servitude be?

Still, I, full of the sun, give smiles
Bountiful, blessed and bright
Need to keep shining my light
That is my demeanour, banner and pledge

So whatever is, whatever comes
I remain grateful
For my purpose I’ll still be thankful
Until all will be again evergreen

As much as hope shall within me glean
I look outside of me
To find me everywhere
And yet still here

finding stars… Su’eddie Vershima Agema

In every one of life’s endeavors, there are learners (like me☺) and there are masters. There are those who are willing to share knowledge, no matter what level of learning they’re at. This is the case of my friend Su’eddie Vershima Agema. I once called him a critic but now I see him as a friend who simply wants to add value.


Su’eddie writes poetry with his head 😉 (correct me if I’m wrong) and he’s very particular about those technicalities of poetry.👌

The poem below, which is written in classical Su’eddie style tells us that sometimes, in searching for that faraway treasure, we end up realizing, that the treasure we sought all along, eluded us because we didn’t look within.

Ladies and gentlemen, I present Su’eddie Vershima Agema. 👏👏👏


finding stars

he looked up to the skies;
it reflected the darkness that lay at the bottom of his heart
he searched for the stars but they were absent
he smiled sadly

he wasn’t going to be low too long
for he knew that beyond those blankets, the stars shone

he took a deep breath, closed his eyes
kissed the air and searched for the stars once more
this time he found a million sparkles
deep within his soul…

Just What If….

Today’s guest post is from my adorable “weirdo” Amity. 🙂 I just love her writes. They leave you thinking and wondering….who really is Amity? And when you think you’ve begun to understand, she wows you by introducing her alien friends (her muses I suppose), who often decide if, when and what she writes. 🙂

Don’t we just love Amity?

Messieurs et dames, here is Amity, doing what she knows to do best – wow us. 🙂

Just What If….

What if black was really white and white green?
Would it make a difference?
Would the black mamba be as gentle as a dove?

What if the sky was green and grasses blue?
Would it change the force of nature?
Would the sun wither in season?

What if your skin was red and mine pink?
Would we love more?
Would there be peace in the world?

What if the rainbow was colourless and the butterflies grey?
Would the rain still know when to stop?
Would life still be beautiful?

Just what if…?

Cornucopia… Dr. Tope Ogundare (aka Topazo )

Today is one of the days when I remember that Africa is where I have my roots. What is it like to be African? One thing I’m sure about is that this is one place where we learn to smile despite. …

Here, we learn to tell our own stories. One of the stories that is dear to the heart of our guest poet today is on the theme of farming.

Dr. Tope Ogundare is a psychiatrist and farms the rich soil of human mind. However, in the beautiful piece below, he vividly captures the real goings-on behind farming in Africa. Here, too, the earth smiles despite. Enjoy.🌱


The cloud is covered in darkness,
Streaks of light approach from the east
Where the sun has begun to peel the blanket
Of night from the gray sky;
Men steal away from the comforts of their
Wives’ bosoms,
They journey away from home to find solace
In the arms of another –
Brown skin, with hues of clay and loam;
They go to plough her mounds,
To deposit seeds within her womb;
They wear the Dawn as they go
And return with Dusk, weary and tired;
Day by Day, they sow to Mother Earth
And their dreams are filled with images of abundance;
They give of their strength and the harvest is
A proof of their virility –
Tubers of yam, and corn and maize and cocoyam are
The trophies for their toils.

cornucopia -

It is the harvest,
The Earth has borne her young,
The men’s chests swell with pride,
The sun warms the festive air
The wind sings softly
The trees sway in tandem
Mother Earth looks on lovingly,
Her heart overflows with maternal affection;
The men court her for her fecundity,
And worship her for her prowess;
She smiles weakly and rues her old age;
Years of child-bearing have sapped her vitality,
And she can feel the tiredness deep within;
How long till the fires deprive her of her fertility?
And the rains expose her shame?
The moment lasts as long as the blink of an eye
And her thoughts move on to the festivities above
Today is not one for sorrow
There is always tomorrow.

Image courtesy –

Finding Me… Me

This next guest post is by The Short Black Girl, who simply wants to be known as Me.  Me writes from her soul and you can tell she has a beautiful heart. In this poem about self-discovery, you will meet her and perhaps understand that all of us have our foibles, no matter what facade we exude. Enjoy!

Finding Me

In moments of wait,

When I, turned up

Against the ticking clock,

Tick- tock, tick- tock,

Grow scared and weary,

Alone, and forgotten,

Waiting for hope,

Waiting for joy,

Waiting for love,

And promises and dreams;

I suck on breath,

Yet I wait to die–


I am always waiting;

For inchoation, for the end.

Through cacophonic melodies

Chaos and peace

Dawn turns to dusk

Hide, seek; moments become memories.

So I get lost sometimes

In the endless wait;

Who was I, who am I,

And even tomorrow,

Will I matter?


More questions, and I wait

Again. Waiting is lonely,

And Change empties me,

Yet I wait, again and again–

For the excitement of anticipation

The numbness of uncertainty,

The chance of a new beginning,

Alone, by myself.

Because people

Take away the magic–

Of the frantic heartbeat

And the wrecking nerves,

The praying lips

And the eyes, awake and keen.


I wait,

For every time I get lost

In the sudden swiftness of change

I find myself a little bit more.