My Poetry Diary

At the eve of birth a being I saw, That stands between Eden and heaven’s door; The eyes shone bright and fine like a crystal ball, I am Africa – the subtle voice whispered and called; All around me are fairies and fireflies, In awesomeness, I gazed at a paradise; Towards the light, in four I gently crawled, I am Africa – the subtle voice whispered and called; ‘Hold my hands and walk with me, Traverse with me the land beyond the sea, I am in the wind – the gentle and strong, I am in the season, the short and long,’ I am in the field – the trees and shrubs, I am in the water – that flows and drops, I am Africa - the subtle voice whispered and called; I am Africa – thy heritage of thine mud. All around me in awe and leaped from slough, My mama called me Africa – the spirit of love, I am Africa – the voice whispered we are kin, Bright is thy being, though black is thine skin, From the mountains I flew askew, Kilimanjaro and Olumo spoke a f...

There she stood the last girl on earth; Barely ten; barely here; The wind took her faraway from birth; With glassy tears I know she stares ... From the aperture, the medieval face quavers, Like the cracked brick of the Sahara ground; Her face bears countless maps like the path pavers; I sank in tears with this I found; In my fine linen I stood ashamed, A wild affair with the black lady of Timbuktu; The gods are not to be blamed; My clansmen have forsaken our Ubuntu. Or can we blame the gods? A foretold destiny my ancestors waded; Fela Anikulapo the sage communed through the pods; When he smoked to them sated; Where is our Ubuntu? The last girl on earth is dying; Where is our Ubuntu? The gods are crying. (“Ubuntu” is a poem I wrote after participating in the Nigeria election and i saw how my people are only after their selfish interests without remembering Africa heritage of humanity.) ​ Gafar Olorunleke Odubote, “Ubuntu”, copyright 201...

At the patriarchate side I woo; The cemetery in silence and at lone; Where the European ancestors lay in frozen wool; As they mellow darkly in their medieval bone; Long gone lost are their sonorous cord; Whisper of sounds only comes from shattering jaws; From their sockets they stared at an African god; Me’ an erstwhile slave at their door; Only here to have a chat; With the masters we served in temperate blood; My slave master that fettered mother to iron cart; I ruffled their soil now as an African god, Bring now out thy smoking whip of teeth, Those with blades that ate so deep; It drips even to thy bottomless pit, And this will haunt them as they sleep. But to the spirits that once walked with love, To them I will play my poetry song; As they make stories at their gravely doors, Still, their beings bow to an African God; Their internment gowns askew on holy bricks, On their beds, their bones quake at its legendary; With incense and beads, I bid a requ...

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

Àpęę jęùn ki ję ibàję, Sùgbọn ilę sù lọ, ò súù lọ, Kini a ò sè bí ònję bá pę dé, Àriśé làrikà, Sùgbọn ęmi lè bọ, Baba ęni à má wipè, Bí ò pę tìtí, àléjò á dì ònilé, Sùgbọn áwọn ònìlúù tí mù ilę dì ọwọń, Ìbáwò ńàá ńí á ó dì ónílé? Ę tù'jù kàá, Ìjá dòpíń, ógúń ti tán, Dię dię lèkù ńjáwọ, Díę díę lęyę ńmù ọsáń, A ò mọyi Ọlọrùn yiò sè, Ni Kò ję ka binù kú, Isę ọwọ ęni lò mù ni làá, Ilę súù lọ, Igbá dìę nàâ la'ò kù A ki walę fùn adię ję, Ajùmọbi ò kan ti àrùn, Ki àlápá mù àpá rę lè, . (Poem: "ilę sù lọ" - by #olorunlekepoems ) #poetry #poem #yoruba #yorubapoetry #yorubapoem  #tales

To the west of river Niger and not so far; A fairy town prevails and mightily thrives; On this land, the britons barely sire; Only when they came with Maxim and treacherous knives; Unfaltering the goddess stands; Legions of dictators choked Yemoyi with powder; This the goddess detests and they got the lands; The wailing strings spanned at imagbon louder; (Ode to Ijebu Ancestors... to be continued #poetry #poem #poems #epic #poetsofinstagram #olorunlekepoems #africa

Ólóri ! A beauteous being in a black woolen dress stepping on snowing silkily earth; Thou an European goddess but thy countenance is like of an African birth, Ólòkún the Mother, bestowed thee with unfathomable beauty like the old, Thy resemblance is of Osún, so beautiful and virtuous, as often told; I saw thee in Saaremaa during my feat at the Kuressaare village square; At thy footstool the friars and the gods wantonly swoon and swear; A warrior thou hath, thou command the beasts to bid the commoners' wishes, Thou like Queen Sheba hath command and freely give the finest of earthly riches, Thy eyes in the day are like emerald touches of western witches crystal ball, Within thy grasps are the magical beings that warmly heed to thy call, So mysterious; thou highly revered, beautiful and untouched; Betrothed to the Viking king that made thee a savage crutch; O' Ólóri thy charms inspires and am in love with thee no doubt at first sight; Thou ...

Mother, my epiphany! My born-day came from thy strength; I celebrate thee, my serendipity! From thy breath; thou a God sent! I remember ! Those bluish smoky eyes; Filled with wooden fire flakes, Also blurry with tears like ice; I know my mother as she wakes; Pretended I laid at bound; She tiptoed away from the mat, She waded at every sound; From the bullying flies and rats; I saw thou in me ! The glimmer of a mere alike; Her smile clutches my being; The only listener to confide; When thou chastised - never mean; Iya Femi is one of a kind; She teaches like mother Teresa With little, she's still humble and kind; I hope to have her forever  I was afraid ! I saw the wrinkles there; It competes with the veins; It begets my unmentionable fear, Little makeup still do the feints, I drank more from thy bosom; Afterwards it sags with pride, O' mother thou is so awesome; Forever am thine child; I am gratefu...

Faraway in Harjumaa, the sun broke fast and new, It stares at me from little gaps in wood, I sauntered through with my legs dipped in dew, This reminds of English folklore called Robin Hood; Ne'er seen such a beatitude in a day, (Tho' they had me packed before night-time) Not such greens in my erstwhile stay; But this little is enough for a lifetime; I grimaced in queer at the autumn air, Searching for the gods that made here abode; In between the woods, I saw a dear; This must be the spirit that upholds... ... the lair; With my little feet, I tiptoed and crawled, I saw glitters and another doe in awe, Maybe I've seen a Viikingnite Küla demigod; It gazed at me with tender warmth; I drank from its brook with the ancient horn, A Harjumaa demigod has met an African god; After some ethereal moments it was all gone, Me, Tallinn and Harjumaa now share a common bond; (Written during my short stay in Saula Village, Harjumaa...

This day I came forth from the immerser, Evolved I became from a molten salt; Breathless, ageless... deeply was the hole; Am I still here ? with this flesh severely burnt!... It's cerebrospinal upholds like the incense of the wilderness, Like those our ancestors used to wade and bade; Whenever the flesh sought the lust consummating its sanity, For this now I seek atonement before I fade.. Beyond the line that the lights have shone not too bright; Hollowed... burrowed Neither the Wherewithal for the wages of sin I could bear; Nor the stomach for the mourning of the venerable sages in their lair, The remorseless soul wantonly contented with the fear; Is this how repentance feel? Where thou the feeling of elation that called loudly from the space of oblivion? Is this what Agogo-Ija the fearless of my clan died for? The warrior that made the forest of the gods a dominion. With his spear he bended the knees of the foreign gods, Insatiable, thirst...

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,...

"I heard the whisper that don't cross that line; But I am diversity - I am not bound to a clan; Now becoming a mirage - no longer invited to dine; But l've being here from the early days of man; I know the homes of kings and places of treasures, I bring positive critics to your teams and boards; Within my arms peace is possible and we all know for sure, I bring resonance and symphony with my strings and chords," . "Like an unwanted guest, we chased you out; We left you shattered like a broken mirror reflecting million faces; My clansmen called you names, such as being north, east, west & south; My darling diversity is only here like a bridge to connect us to heavenly places; We sunk your ship beneath the deep sea of time, My nation has forgotten the climax of 1960 and the likes, We crashed your pride like a calabash of slime, Now at your absence different nation strikes, . "We are here, we are one; We are Divers...

To our Girls at the virile north, Taken by the shadow of the grisly hood, Rise up now, from the slavery lot, Break thy shackles made of rope and bamboo wood; Thy flesh has burnt enough for their incense pot, Thy body was violently marked for clansmen food, Make haste and heed, before thou become old and rot; Thy pride has shattered mindlessly and its rude; I call upon the angels of the North, And to the mothers that had suffered and gone, Come now to end the battle you had fought, When at thy infant age you became used as porn, The scavengers are still on rampage like they sought, Coming after our girls to melt their sun, Our Girls are crying and they are the only ones we got, They are marred our Girls for the sake of fun, Are thou not the sunshine of savanna? Now darkened by the tints of blood and bile, Thy vocal dare not call the sound of hosanna, When thy throat aches to be quenched from a nearby Nile, I raise my horn to the daughters...

I know the colour of love, Undeniably the same as your eyes, So transcendental and only from above, Like the trails of Elysian butterflies, It's neither red, white nor blue, It's like the infernal Vatican height,  It's like the softness of the morning dew; It's like the reflection of the starlight, Soak me up till am hued, Paint me with thy colour of truth, Let it bring out my beauty anew, And I will sing a melodious tune.. A tune like that of the birds, The ones that hums blissfully at thy gate, Let thy colour illuminate my words,  A life to my erstwhile boring state I know the colour of love,  It's like watching twilight from a mountain top, Like in a breezy country side fall, Those feelings like flying with the rain drop, Let me soak myself in your paints, Print all over me your colourful celestial scripts, Like that used for Mona Lisa and the saints, Brush me with the softness of your lips, With a taste of your love and beauty,...

I remember pelimeseki A lady from medisedeki One of the daughters of zion Having the sheba's beauty of armour Her body was like a throne  Shinning with light like a crystal cone Not of the likes of jezebel and Delilah Their body full of darkness and denial Any virtuous woman among you? The daughters of zion are always few Stop the earthly riches and body lust Youthful skin will get old and turn to dust (Poem: “ pelimeseki ” by Olorunleke Odubote)

I quickened to taste, Alas, thou has gone sour I took my parchment in haste, And lay to the foot of those in power Where is our salt? The marrow of our clan, The treasure we never bought, The oil of our land; Why thou sweetened not? Where is thy light? The sect of the Capital has eaten thee raw; They carted them all in a daylight, Our salt, our today The colonials depleted thee to a pint, None to use for our baby on born-days, The democrats now buried all in their pits; Our salt, our future Give us some we are mal-nourished Let us taste their source before rapture, Show me thy pillar, my land seek thee to flourish, Our children were promised to be crowned, But the elders never left the throne, Those  the salt chooses are drowned; The Elders install theirs and only their own, The salt of my land where hath thou? Thou the children of my clan, Spring forth and come to us now, Take thy glory and trample their plans ...

A death again on the Oba street, The town crier has announced its coming; A Kinsmen again has traversed the pit Another meek and lowly mourning, A home from home has been thy abode, Thy square is for merriment adorned by ladies, A shelter thou for the young, stray and old Now thy silhouette is like a shadow of the hades Oba street- the sacred place of refuge, The shibboleth has taken over thy town, The indigene opened their doors before the deluge; They accepted the beast that kills at dawn, But a pact to only come for the commoners, They sit their gods at the square we adored, They forgot we built with the forerunners, Thy once peaceful abode had lost its accord, We toiled this land with thy ancestors, Our fathers only sojourned here at thine plea, Thy prosperity came from our investors, Why now subjecting us to be killed? Why uprooting our trees from their roots?, Our gods are not human eaters or a demon, Nor like those visitors that suck...

The dawn of thy nightmare beckons, Thy Children has given up to be sold; They said our Èdé Yórùba is archaic and old; I wont dare betray my tongue for a second. The learned said thou is for the poor, Èdé Yórùba, thou the language of the gods, The brave ones that revere thee are called the clods, Èdé Yórùba, thou a noble that enters ethereal doors I cry for my dearest Èdé Yórùba Thy daughters tongue has forsaken thee, Thy sons has taken after the foreign deeds; My clansmen has killed thee Èdé Yórùba This generation knows thee small, Next generation may know thee not Thou the most beautiful of the lot, Why thou made Èdé Yórùba sullied like a whore? Èdé Yórùba, thou my true identity, How can I resurrect thee my first love? From the shackles pitched to their turf, Come back to us before we lose our sanity; Èdé Yórùba kó gbùdo kù, Edé Yórùba has done you no wrong, I rebuke those that dump thee, my mother tongue, When thou rescind ...

The Elders are here, The summon is near; The city damsels' on rampage Chanting no way to baby child marriage; Can this be real? A girl child for adult meal? My country law men on the news again ! No place for my clans men to bargain again ! Freedom I plead, Enough you make the girl child bleed Lets bury the scythe and the greed; Freedom for Girl child we need. The Elders now back to their abode, A message for us to teach our child at-home; Mama should hide them from this malady, Before they violate our clans' sanctuary. Those Girl’s mothers’ has grieved and weep, With vengeance they reap and sleep, They cried aloud for justice to rain; But the cloud is solid and we strain    Alone and lonely The Girl Child waits, For that moment her being would be exceedingly great; In a world her existence wont be a bait, For the wolves to hate as a gender fate. (Poem: “Freedom for Girl Child” by Olorunleke Odubote)

Recently at a wake keep, Of my Clans' man taken to his knee He took the path of eternal sleep; At the wake of his own last-supper meal His linen plain garment askew, His muted lips at the last muttered words, His head tilted as if listening to the adieu Maybe when below the ground he can hear the birds, The precious sounds he once savored, Maybe they sound now as discorded thoughts, Those sweet scents we once flavored, Maybe far below the ground it simply rots, Piece by piece; The flesh melts away to eternity; Can this be the path way beyond?.. Lives drawn through the pipes of vanity Lazarus was awoken From the unstoppable slumber: Can this be done again? Many people plunder ! The guardians can no longer be found, The warriors had since all gone below, The journey below the ground.., Traversed by ancestors that ruled long ago! Under his watch, my clan was safer His sandal would long be at lone and empty, The journ...