I Speak

Raging winds shall soon be still
Bowing to the Father’s perfect will
Child of God, let your heart be still
And set your eyes on Calvary hill

I speak to the weak: your strength will be restored, as you look up to the Lord. You may feel like you have expired, but there is a lot left in your life. Great times are ahead of you; you just need to draw from the everlasting well of life and renew your inner strength for the journey ahead. Continue reading “I Speak”

Memories, Hopes and Dreams

I should have written this long ago
When the red dust of Abakaliki
Blown by the hot humid air
Settled on my tender, innocent face
And coloured my eyelashes brown
When the hot, unforgiving sun
Beat down on me without mercy
And adjusted my complexion
From a brightly coloured version
To a darker shade of fair
And oft times the heavy rains
Weighed down in quick retaliation
And soaked me up to the calves
In yellow muddied waters
As though I were a battleground
On which the elements contend
Yes, I should have written this back then

When the days never seemed to end
And the nights quickly passed you by
You could never tell what happened
If things were fast or they were slow
There were only blurred memories
Of rural life and township style
Traders’ shops, Meat markets
Building sites, Local restaurants
Public schools, Government offices
The ministries of this and of that
Wealth and affluence that was
Sparsely spread among deep poverty
Then there were flurried imaginations
Of a better life somewhere out there
Dreams of posh cars, the good life
Healthier people, better education and
A hopeful life for every young person

Somehow the seasons had to change
And bring difference to this place
Or take us away to a different place
We had passion and commitment
And many dreams and visions, of which
Some survived and others died
There were troublemakers, smiling faces
And a hope that things were at an end
All those things did come to an end
But now we bear like a stamp
In our hearts and our minds
The memories of those times
And the effects of our experiences
Unyielding to the endless tug of time
Remain a mark on our souls and
Testify to a place and a time
That once was and will always be

Of Memory and Music, Love and Expectation

Hello there! It’s been a few days since I posted here; busy with work and writing too. It usually takes a lot of hard work to put up something I find worthy of reading or which captivates my own attention. And I have a few pieces of poetry I have been working on – I pray they turn out well so I can put them up.

In the meantime, I wrote two short pieces today, two seven-liners that evolved almost out of nowhere, but which captured some deep thoughts in my heart. I hope you can relate with them one way or another.

So this is the first piece, which is woven around memory and sounds:

Memories swathed in unfading music,

Each memory unique with its own song

Line every path wherever I may turn

As I journey through the maze of history.

The future awaits with own set of tunes

Amazing sounds; I hear them in visions

It is time for us go over to the other side.

The second piece speaks plainly on love and where we expect to find it (not what it is, which is another matter). Here goes:


We found love in unlikely places

In food courts and game centres

In the smiling eyes of cute babies

And helping hands of kind strangers

Maybe we were, indeed entirely wrong

To have sought love only in certain places

For love has always been wherever we went


I hope you enjoy them or find them stimulating and/or tasteful, the same way good food stimulates the mouth to salivate. I’d love to hear your thoughts on this. Kindly use the comment box below. Do not forget to like and share. Thanks for stopping by!

O. J. Taiwo


Written by Joy Ijere

For over thirty weeks and six

When the food turns bitter-sweet

And all the clothes no longer fit

She bears the pain and counts the weeks

Through the cold, through the heat

She knows for sure where it will lead

For little hands and little feet

Soon from her will be revealed.

For four, five years and sometimes six

He has no shelter guaranteed

In dim and fading light he’ll read

Wants no other than As and Bs

Though all he eats is salty beans

He’s sure to never speak defeat

For one day he’ll live his dreams

With more than enough to eat.

At night, alone, she longed for him

So close he was she could touch him

But for that great gulf in-between

Oh, for her pride and dignity!

So fulfilled at last she’ll feel

When she finds him whom her soul seeks

But while he sleeps between the trees

Ssshh! Wake not her Lover till he please.

He’s two years and seventy old

Heard he has to go through CHEMO

Stage Four Cancer on the Memo

Night time, yet, without the shadows

Laughter like there’s no tomorrow

Can’t bear to give way to sorrow

For now he knows he’s reached that Close

Where he can do no more than hope.

Hope is the expectation

That something good will come

It’s what makes us to function

Even in the midst of the storm

We rise to work, and lie to sleep

For, far and yonder, we believe

That there’s a holy land of bliss

And that we’ll surely enter in.