My Poetry Diary

I heard the summon, The sound was tiny and strong; I found myself in the abyss; So I drift along, So black as the pit, My ears flaps like the hare, its thickness fiercely bites, So I heard the clicking snare; The gods provoked, While Clansmen despaired; The rulers stole again from the coffers, The gods declared! Three cowries were amiss; Of a bone, brass and brick; Their lips left of the crimson stains, Dwindling light, so gone the wick. #writersofinstagram #poetry #poem #olorunlekepoems #writerscommunity

Eleven days after June 12th, So notorious... so unprecedented; The military gaveled and nipped at the bud, Their ravenousness was unleashed after nine days on the leash, The General can't withstand to alienate from being a god, They matched up my street which was dead at a start; My father bellowed "today we must fight"; My mother mellowed "let's hope for the light"; From the window the silhouette of my father lost from sight; "A mere Nitel staff and very far to the center", The burden of memory severely hurts, We rented our clothes and in ashes we laid, The memoir of bullets deafened my thoughts, Our mandate was spewed from us with bandolier, We were just mere pawns in a military manga; We ended the day with my father favorite Fela's song. Eleven days earlier... The day called June 12th... My kinsmen buried their hatches and all rivalries fade; We matched to the barracks with our banners in white,...

Today I saw the bar, Of my countrymen in gray , Over the shout of 'shun sir' My body hewed in fray; They came at a start, Asking for particulars and stuffs, They roam with tiny boots like ants, After the Envelope they dissolve They came a time in their van, Hooting profusely like injured owl, They tagged my garri seeds as a ban Which I inherited for my clan to sow, Hurriedly my bowls in their coffers Some soiled and they are lost; With envelope again they sober, With that they vanish like the frost Not far within a cycle of moon's leg I saw them again in our market, My clans men left aside their ego to beg, So not to end up in their darkest... But this time we have none to give; The season was tough and harvest is far; They bagged us and called me the thief; Until I found myself beyond the bar, Poem : “Gray and Bar” by Olorunleke Odubote

I stand my ground this day, Where my persecution laid at rest, All stones and pebbles to thy grates, My clansmen blood dusted my crest. On this same earth I stand, Nauseated by the beam of war, In-between my rival clans I stand; Pierced to dust like a desert whore. I stand firm though with feeble legs, Like an iroko with lashes of wind, Will my ancestors take back the curses of this land? Where the partridges no longer sing... This day I stand, Like a veteran of the Savannah; Let's adorn our emissaries with a clean mitre, Before they traverse those border mine-lined of Sahara. My placard laden neck will stand, On this course of appeasing our clans, Beyond the grave of unmarked martyrs; I stand for Peace and unity of all clans.