My Poetry Diary

Twenty widows at the confessional pleads, ‘O thou send a soothers as thy spirit leads, Twenty more long years will make thy servants numb, A momentary storm that will make thy ladies come’ Amidst the metal grill, the priest subtly grinned, With a crucifix he bade the hallowed wind, ‘Howbeit thou seekth no pertinence to thine needs, O twenty widows accept thy Godspeed'. (c) gafar

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...

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...

It is in your eyes, The fire, the attraction; Softy in them thy beauty lies, A place to savour satisfaction; We may twine at the moment, Like the lily and moth seduction, Faraway you seems, my torment; Your body I have none, still an imagination, Take me through your earthly stars, Guide me through to elevation Let me swim through to your softy mars, Thou a beauty of motivation, Your eyes, Your eyes The fire, a chain reaction, It can melt the bravest ice, I call you a motivation, So luscious thy velvet-black eyebrows, Crystal clear like the Seraph eyes So magnificent thy crystal eyeballs, Deep motivation flows from your eyes, In your eyes, every thing is bright, It illuminates like a night constellation So angelic, it radiates the light, In your eyes, there is motivation, Your lips, your lips Its softness, my intoxication Your lips, your lips I call you motivation Let me explore your depth, To savor the comfort of your chest,...

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)