"OUTPUT OF A THINKING WRITER" By: David O. AKANO

Someone stopped loving (me) because I write, because her mother said I cry alone with my pen shedding the tears, that I am a free bird with a free birth and no recognition, no celebration only tears of ink.

Someone stopped believing (me) because i spice up my words and weave my meanings amidst my voice and not because I drive my car, build my house on the structure of white and materials of black and/or blue. That I only sleep on the railing with a big dream of myself flowing in high places.

Someone ceased trusting (me) because I can only thrust the end of my weapon on paper and make people blush and not bleed. Claiming that I'm not competent to hold a sword of two edges not to talk of the one with four edges. She stopped trusting my sorry because I've spoilt her with it coming from different genre of sorry's and majorly because I write.

Then someone pleaded (with me) that I should spring forth and do the right thing, claiming that when the time comes, I will be what I've got to be. That i should try and employ letters from Hey to Zeed then send on errand all around the globe that my writing shall be the tax payer and my passion will be the way paver.

Who am I to bank on??
What am I to think of??

Comments

WHAT HAPPENED TO US By: E. D. OGHRE

Is this what it has come to Is this what it has become Who would have thought so Who would have believed we will be in this form *What happened to us* I remember when we became one Who would have known this day will come What happened to the promise we made And our plans to remain one Instead it has started to fade And we have forgotten where we came from *What happened to us* What happened to love and unity What happened to peace and prosperity Instead we build division and strive And no longer value our lives We start fights and live in lies *What happened to us* I still remember our promises But now we are in pieces What happened to in health and sickness With children or in barrenness Anger or happiness What happened to i will forsake anger for your sake And follow you anywhere even into a lake *What happened to us* We said in health and sickness Wealth and wretchedness For better for worse Even though we argue and curse You will remain in my he...

Christopher Sapara Williams the first Nigerian lawyer called to the English bar

Christopher Sapara Williams made history on November 1879 when he became the first Nigerian to be called to the English bar.Born on July 14, 1855 in Sierra Leone although he was reported to have been of Ijesha origin, he studied law at Inner Temple in London and on November 17, 1879, he was called to the English bar. In 1888, Williams returned to Lagos colony, as it was then to begin practising law. He enrolled in the Nigerian Bar Association where he became chairman from 1900 to 1915 when he died. In 1901, he was nominated to the legislative council where served as member till he passed away. His judgement was called to test in 1903 when a crises arose over the tolls collected from traders by local rulers. The then Governor William MacGregor requested views from Williams, Charles Joseph George and Obadiah Johnson as indigenous opinion leaders.They suggested that the tools be retained as against changing them to subsidies so as not to upset the rulers. Williams was no...

Oĺòŕí Dèdòyíń By: Balogun Fatimah

Tall like a Lemonade tree, Her oval face caught my fancy. Her beam? It can make a furnace cold. Ońítèmí Dèdóyíń. Her colourful eyes, Like the feathers of a Peacock. Stared deep into my soul. Piercing my heart like a dagger. Her steps gives the ground, A fresh sound. Making footprints, Like a fairy Princess. Her calm nature? Is a sightly castle. Sitting gorgeously, Beside the beauteous ocean. A pest she can be, Whom you can't fumigate. But a jolly good fellow she is, Whom you would always admire. Her tiny hips, Adorned by Crystal illèkè Gave her bum, A new rhythm. The tree in Alààfíń's palace, Bowed to the fragrance, Of her scent. A stylish Olòŕí, She is perceived as. May Almighty God, Make my Queen, Live a long, And fulfilled life. *Ońìtèmí: My own* *Íllèkè: Waist bead* © *Balogun Fatimah Oluwatosin*

OLUWAJIMI . J . THORPE

Search This Blog